While thumbing through my drafts folder, I found this post from 2014. I am not sure if I ever hit the “publish” button or even realized that it this post was saved as a draft versus shared with my followers. I do remember this very class – J-term with Dr. Katie Cannon and the guest lecturer was doctoral student Rev. Melva Sampson. The sentiments still ring true so I am sharing … 

Funny thing is that I sat down to type another post and didn’t realize
until a paragraph or so later what I was typing. Guess this is what I
need to get out.  In class last week the instructor started by reading a
poem as part of our contemplative moment. One – probably the only one –
thing I remember from the poem is this sentence: the memory falters, but
the soul remembers. The poem was followed by a discussion on African
American history and the slave trade. We engaged in very rich dialogue
about the African traditions that remain present in the lives of many
African Americans. One of the commentators from the video talked about
specific traditions and practices of which she was not aware of the
origin, but knew it felt familiar.

Although we were speaking specifically about the transference and
adaptation of African culture into African American culture, I believe
this snippet of the poem – this belief – be related to other human
experiences. The essence of this sentence says – to me – that there are
some things our human mind cannot comprehend or explain: why we are
drawn to certain people, places and things; why certain songs touch our
souls so deeply; why some things feel so familiar. In more
recent/relevant terms, I think of how I cannot place specific memories
from my childhood, but when I eat a specific food or revisit a specific
space I feel a kindred spirit. This one sentence describes the power of
the soul … the essence of the soul: to capture and hold dear those
things our mind consciously or consciously forgets.

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