"Of Our Spiritual Strivings," Arthur Symons, p. 895/I'm in the Deeep South!

"As I lie and listen, and cannot understand
The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea,
O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?"

I believe that Du Bois used this excerpt because it drove in his idea of a dual existence, of African Americans trying to be themselves and Americans at the same time. I'm sure he wasn't the first to identify this struggle, but he was probably the first one to point it out. I wouldn't be surprised if many people weren't quite sure what they were going through, they couldn't understand what it was they were feeling--or as this poem personifies--hearing. I'm sure it was the voice of their hearts and the voice of the sea.

But the poem goes even farther than this, because the voice is also crying for rest.

"Unresting water, there shall never be rest
Till the last moon droop and the last tide fail . . ."

How tiring it must have been, being an African American in this time period. First, the constant duty of being a slave, of always having work to be done, and never once a vacation (wow, do I feel like crap right now.) And then, after emancipation, the incessant struggle of trying to find one's place in the world, in America; always smashed between two boulders of freedom and oppression, ever reaching out to grasp at opportunity, which I'm sure didn't pass by often.

Du Bois was trying to identify with and encourage his fellow men. He was saying, "I know, I know you're tired, I know your soul is crying for rest, but don't give up. We can't give up."

That's what all this is about, pressing on despite physical, social, and emotional exhaustion. That's why Du Bois slammed Washington's philosophies, because he saw them as a giant white flag. He saw Washington plop down right where he was and take whatever he could get, and encourage everyone else to do the same. He saw Washington give in. In Washington's own words, "Cast down your bucket where you are," which in every way discourages one from moving forward. True, there is always something there, and they weren't giving everything up. But there is always more just beyond the horizon, and I'm sure if those sailors had turned and kept sailing up the Amazon River, they would have found a towering waterfall, one more beautiful and plentiful than they could ever want or need.

I find it rather ironic that while I write this, I am sitting in the (former) overseer's house on a (former) plantation in Mississippi. We are staying with my friend John, and his family has lived on this land for over 200 years. If I hadn't of read Up from Slavery before I got here, I wouldn't have known what he was talking about when he said that the big house burned down and the house he now lives in used to be the overseer's house. There are several little shacks scattered all over this part of the property, and I didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure that that's where the slaves lived. It makes me a little sad, but also, it's history (and, it's history.)

As for Mardi Gras, well . . .

We went down to 'Nawlins for the first few days of our trip, and I have never had so much fun in my life. There's so much to tell, but I'll only include a few interesting bits for anyone interested.

I saw someone's ashes get scattered right on Bourbon Street. What a way to go.

I saw the Pope, Mic Jaggar, three Captain Morgans, a bear, a chicken, Jesus (or Moses, we're still not sure,) and about 50 trannies.

I got hit in the head with beads several times, and slipped and fell on beads a few times.

I will never drink another hurricane--ever--in my life.

But, for now, that's all you get, except this:

1) Riding a ferry while extremely hungover is not a good idea.

2) If you ever want to be lulled to sleep (very slowly and painfully) by the sound of a 1200 lb cow snoring just outside your window, come to Quitman, Mississippi.