Support for my Movement

By Dominique Hollis

What moves you?

So often this question is followed by an invitation to exercise for a generation seemingly more committed to technological devices than traversing the deep ominous wonder of the world. Honestly, when all you want to do is drag your feet, how do you get the courage to move on to propel into the future with the might and determination of an assured leader? While pounding my feet on the path formed by the pilgrims of 50 year ago, each step was laid relentlessly by my resolve to push forward and also to remember and reflect. I had a deep curiosity about the movement of the commemorative march from Selma to Montgomery. It struck me at the initial 5 miles, that we were moving fast and with an immensely carefree step. I found this particularly moving because we all came under the load of our own "Selmas", the movements we give our mind and body to.  The marchers, with our collective intuition of the known aches and pains of walking in unsupportive footwear, were of course outfitted for the walk. Which got me thinking, what supported the original pilgrims? Without the convenience of specialized footwear, how did they move forward? And more importantly, what was their forethought about what loomed ahead?

These were significant inquiries because my feet felt heavy in the march towards my Selma, heavy with resignation. Before the march I had withdrawn from my walk, honestly withdrawn from myself. I found ground with the question, "What about the kids?" and my prompt answer, "I'm for the kids." The context of the question, asked by our Dear Ranger Opal, "What is your Selma?" During the walk we shared our stories detailing our particular Selmas, making them evident so we wouldn't step on the Selma's of our fellow pilgrims. What about stepping on your own Selma? I think  I've been step dancing on my Selma, putting on a show while covering the proponent features of my movement with a clever beat. Covering up the movements of my heart by a mind heavy with resignation.

If I let my heart carry me, the effort to move forward would consciously shift to a need to move forward. I would be moved by a yearning for change, a fight which was never relinquished in my heart. My heart connected with the heart of Sharon, a resident of St. Jude. She affirmed that the fight wasn't over. We shared in grief and tears and as I cried my tears expressed my frustration with myself: my weaknesses, my inability to change a fraction of the world. These tears would be the fuel for my movement.

Just like the original pilgrims of the march, I march knowing what looms ahead can build me up just as easily break me down. I will not be moved by fear or anger, but grace and strength. The energies that fuel my Selma are just as important as the cause.