Sometimes my birthday falls
on Martin Luther King day, like today, and also in 1997, the year I decided to
celebrate by going on a solitary hermitage. I
invited friends over the night before and asked them to bring gifts they found,
or had. No shopping. The next day I set off on what turned out to be a simple
and profound day, filled with disappointments, delightful surprises,
culminating in a humble epiphany. Later I wrote a letter to my friends
describing what happened that day. This is a small (for me) piece of that
letter. I'm amazed that I remembered so much from the speech. I think that is
due to being a lifelong diarist, but mostly to the power of the speech.
January 20, 1997
As you know, my plan for my
fortieth birthday was not to have a plan, to somehow surrender, to stop trying
to control everything, to just shut up and listen. All I knew was that I wanted
to get next to the ocean. And I gave myself the task of finding a room somewhere
and spending the night alone. It wasn’t exactly a vision quest I was on,
because it already felt like I had too many visions. It was more of a clearing
out I wanted, from the continual clutter, both internal and external. I wanted some
peace of mind, and to see what was left of me when removed from my usual
surroundings.
Sunday morning, I woke
early in the stilldark, as I usually do these days, and lay there for a long
time. I heard someone come in downstairs. By the time I finally got up and went
down, no one was there, but Lois had left a note, “See you on the other side!”
I cleaned up a
little, started the coffee, took a shower and put on my green bathing
suit, then jeans and brown vest. I began to
carefully collect the things I would take with me, which is always interesting when you don’t know where
you’re going. I packed most of what you all had given me the night before: the portable altar
from Mary brimming with blue buttons, old writings of mine & others, an
instructional poem written on a coil of gold ribbon, a plastic baby Jesus, and
the dice I’d rolled the night before to get snake eyes. The day before that,
Deb gave me a day of adventure, at the end of which we ran over to Buffalo
Exchange in Hillcrest where I hoped to grab a dress for my birthday party. I
went right past the dress Deb pulled out, which I ended up buying- snakeskin
printed fabric, covered with clear sequins! I loved the symbolism of it-
shedding the old skin and all. I put it on around midnight. I packed Deb’s
amazing round stone, which has “never been bought or sold,” the photo &
poem from Dick and the wooden sculpture/compass from Stephanie, wrapped
& tied up in a piece of her wedding dress fabric. I didn’t bring the eagle
feather from Lois, but I did pack the seeds she gave me some time ago, pouched
in leather with a Japanese coin. I packed Sarah’s little jar of tokens with the
written description, and Leah’s ring of black pipe with the words in gold,
“Believe it or not, this is just the beginning.” I added a blank canvas, 2
brushes, a rag and small plastic tray to be used as a palette and the new box of acrylics from
Mom. I brought my hiking boots, hair dryer, I Ching coins & book, Stan’s
waist pack with water bottles, tarot cards, my journal of course, and a new
blank journal, also from Mom, in which an opening is cut out of each page to
reveal a small shell.
"It was as if he knew, as if
he was preparin’ for his own death. He was tellin’ about the Mountain. (King’s
voice comes in) “ I have Been to the Mountaintop. And I have Seen the other
side. I used to want, in my life, longevity, but that doesn’t matter to me now.
Because I have seen, and I am not afraid. I have seen, the Heaven, that is here
for all of us. And I am not afraid. Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the Coming
of the Lord.” (Rev. Kylie continues) Everyone was cryin’. Men were cryin’.
Preachers were cryin’ and we were turning to each other and saying, ‘What is
This?’
"The next night I went to
pick him up, to take him to dinner. Dinner was at 6, but I told him 5, because
he was so slow. He’d called ahead and found out the real time though, so he was
taking his time. The three of us preachers sat around in the room, doin’
whatever three preachers in a room do, then Martin was out on the balcony talkin’
to people and I was at his side. I told him he’d need a coat, and I turned to
get it, and I heard the shot. He was down, with a large hole in his chest, and
half his face blown apart. He was bleeding profusely. I tried to call for help,
but my call never went through. The switchboard operator, the hotel owner’s
wife, had gone outside and seen what happened. She suffered a heart attack and
died the next day. I had seen my father change color when he died, and I saw
Martin change color. “Oh my Lord,” I said. I got a bedspread and laid it over
him, and (the other preacher) got a towel and pressed it to his head. There was
blood everywhere. He was touchin’ him and comfortin’ him. Martin talked a
little, and his eyelids gave a reflexive gesture, and he was gone.
"I had to ask myself, and I
asked myself many times, ‘Why was I there?’ And I know now, it’s because I was
needed as a witness. Events like that need a witness, and my job is to tell the
story. I say what I saw. (Incredibly, the interviewer then asked this question)
‘Martin Luther King Jr. died that day. What, if anything, was born?’ (the
Reverend answers) A movement was born. A man died that day, and his blood
nourished the soil from which sprouted a movement, a movement which says, ‘No
longer can you kill one man and destroy all of us.’"
Whew. I turned off the
radio, repeated out loud the words, “I say what I saw,” and drove on.
