America’s Racial Karma: Dr. Larry Ward’s invitation to heal

On the morning of Tuesday, August 19, beloved teacher, Lotus Institute co-founder, and dear friend to many across the world, Larry Ward, passed away at his home in Rhode Island. He was 77 years old.

That Tuesday was a class day for those of us enrolled in the Lotus Institute’s Midnight Path. Rather than meeting for our class as usual, we met to be together in prayer, chanting, songs, grief, and celebration of life. 

At the beginning of our gathering, I felt in myself the anticipation of one of the rituals that usually began our classes. Larry reading a poem. Along with that awareness, a commitment arose within me. I would write a poem every day for the next week, although I sensed it would not end there. 

The poem I wrote on that first day connected me to the child I once was. A kid who loved poetry. Reading books of poetry alone, reading my favorite poems aloud to others. Delighting in the ways that words could be put together to make silly humor, to engage with profound sorrow, to illuminate perspectives meaningful in their reflection of what it means to be a human. 

On the second day, I took time out of an unusually busy schedule to park my car and sit under the nearest tree. Although it was probably almost a 100 degrees out, the shade of the tree and the strong breeze from a nearby storm made it a pleasant sit. I held in my lap Larry’s book, America’s Racial Karma, my journal, and a bright green pen that resembles a tulip, gifted to me by my mother.

The tree created a space of peace and refuge underneath it, with no imposed conditions on who was allowed to enjoy it. I set the book down next to me and the tree, opened my journal and wrote the date on a blank page. The little tulip bud at the end of the pen swayed as I wrote. A small joy freeing me from taking anything too seriously. 

I wrote the first line of my poem: listening to the leaves

Then I looked off into the baseball field next to me. Not looking at anything in particular, but allowing the sounds and the feel of the breeze to inform the next thing I would write. 

hey!

hey!

hey!

I heard this voice in the distance and wondered what the chances were that it was directed at me, and not someone else in the park. It quickly crossed my mind that perhaps this was an unwanted interaction, the kind that is all too familiar to someone who grows up as a girl, and then a woman, in a society that objectifies girls and women, forcing on them an array of disturbances ranging from annoying to traumatizing to fatal. 

After a few moments of quiet, once these initial thoughts had settled, I turned my head a bit in the direction of the voice, not seeing anyone in close proximity to me. Still looking out far ahead of where I sat, I remained unsure if the voice had been someone trying to get my attention.

miss, I hope one day you look back and smile at everything you write.

I looked over to see a person getting into their car to leave the parking lot. A person who appeared young, not someone I would expect such a blessing from. And yet, there it was. The blessing of a stranger, voiced into the space that separates, or connects, us. What a beautiful hope to have for someone you’ve never met.

I smiled as the words registered in my brain and I said an inaudible thank you. My response short and quiet, out of surprise as well as the learned precaution to not invite further conversation. The person drove away and I immediately wrote down their words, and then my own words that flowed from the chance interaction. The rest of the day held more unexpected moments, and challenges, but I felt a sense of calm and patience through each, like I had when I first sat next to the tree.

For the next 6 days I wrote at least one poem for each day. One day I didn’t make the time to write, so I made sure on the following day to write an additional poem relevant to the day before. I now have a week of my experiences represented in poems. 

What I found was that there was always something to write about. Always something to process, to grieve. Each day a new horror committed by the people with access to wealth, bombs, machinery. Against the human and non-human beings with access to something much more powerful: belonging. 

And during this week, I was also reading the wisdom in Larry’s book America’s Racial Karma. An invitation to heal, published in 2020, a year of awakening.

The shameless certainty of colonial thinking brings to mind the words of author Toni Morrison, who reminds us that we must understand “the very serious function of racism, which is distraction”—a great lie that justifies stealing. That’s about the shortest way to say it. The great lie justified building wealth at the expense of someone else’s suffering. 

Creating wealth. Creating power. Grabbing land. Race was a great smokescreen while all this happened. There have been hundreds of analyses of the subject of race and American history, but for me, this is a religious scandal. We need to talk as a nation about what’s underneath the history and the politics, because until we deal with what’s at the root of suffering on a spiritual, psychic, and emotional level, it will continue.
 
I want you to understand I’m talking about a natural, organic process. The Doctrine of Discovery established a spiritual, political, and legal justification for the colonialization and seizure of land not inhabited by Christians. That definition released soldiers, ministers, missionaries, and merchants across the world to colonize others, imagining this as the fulfillment of their life’s glory. What makes this a religious scandal is that it’s a lie about the sacred nature of a human being. It denies the reverence for life at the heart of all religions—that the divine is embodied in all humans, including those who don’t look like me. That’s a lie about the cosmos. 

Let’s take a longer look at the psychological intent carried many, many years ago by the authors of the racial constructs. For 246 years, from 1619 to 1865, slavery was legal in America. Then, as we all know, it took another hundred years to end legal segregation. You have to understand this was all about the money—and the fear of losing money and privilege—for white American people to stand by and witness this drama for hundreds of years. 

Larry Ward, America’s Racial Karma

These words help make sense of the world in this present moment, with the seemingly illogical cruelty only getting more blatant and shameless. This book illustrates how the past has not passed, never really disconnected from the time we find ourselves in. The harm continues, never really ceased. This is our reality. And we must turn towards it in order to heal.

Since Larry’s passing, I’ve experienced the parts of healing that are writing and reading poetry, looking deeply at the past and present, and envisioning an entirely different way of living. I will continue, and I invite you to join me.

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Dr. Larry Ward is a poet, teacher, and supportive guide on the path of connecting with our ancestors. In the 7th Day Ceremony honoring Larry, and his partner Peggy, I saw that their work, and their love, is continuing in countless ways and through countless people. 

To continue Larry’s work for racial healing, you are invited to join our book club series on America’s Racial Karma, which begins on Wednesday September 3rd. For more information, and to register to attend, please click here. The first section of the book is available to read on the product page below.

If cost of the book is a barrier, please email jess@parallax.org.