Tami Simon: You’re listening to Insights at the Edge. Today, my guest Malidoma Patrice Somé. Malidoma is a West African elder, author, and teacher from the Dagara tribe in Burkina Faso, West Africa. He has come to the West to share the ancient wisdom and practices which have supported his people for thousands of years.
He holds three master’s degrees and two doctorates from the Sorbonne and Brandeis University. He’s taught at the University of Michigan. He currently devotes himself to speaking and conducting intensive workshops throughout the United States.
In this episode of Insights at the Edge, Malidoma and I spoke about how to heal and resolve any issues or gripes that one may have with a specific relative or ancestor. We also talked about rituals one can use to open a line of communication with the ancestors, and how our life expression itself can be a tribute to what the ancestors have given us. Finally, we talked about what some of the most important teachings [are] that Westerners can learn from the Dagara culture, and what the Dagara tribe could actually learn from Westerners. Here’s my conversation with someone that I call “a wild card,” because you never know what to expect—Malidoma Somé.
Malidoma, I want to talk to you today about working with the ancestors. Just to begin, [I’ll] ask you to tell our listeners a little bit [about] when you hear this word, “ancestors,” what does that mean to you? Who are we referring to when—in your cultural context, the Dagara tribe, you hear people talking about “working with the ancestors.”
Malidoma Somé: That’s a very good question. In fact, the word is a lot broader than I have heard here—at least in terms of the reference. In Dagara culture, when you hear that someone is dealing with the ancestors, they’re basically talking about the ancestors of the village, of the tribe, of the culture.
There’s already an umbrella under which all ancestors are the same for everybody. But then, as you go further from this broad perception—as if you are thinking about ancestors like another parallel village to the village that the person belongs to. You look at it and then inside you will find that there are also families.
So, from the general perception of ancestors being connected to the culture [and] to the village, then there’s the narrower vision of the ancestor being part of the parallel family—the other family who are connected to the person or persons by blood and that type of connection.
So, it seems like at first, when you hear the word “ancestors,” you’ve got to think in terms of cultural ancestors—tribal ancestors. But then when it comes to personal business, ancestors start with the family members who have crossed, and apparently they know the rest of the ancestors. Any person who needs to address the ancestors in my village begins with the most recent dead, asking that person—that ancestor—to pass on the word to everyone else. It is as if there is a kind of preexisting hierarchy in the ancestral realm, whereby the newcomers are the younger [ones], who are at the gate between this dimension and their dimension, to pick up whatever message is needed and pass it on to everyone else.
In this situation, a person addressing ancestors begins with his or her own ancestors. And by “own ancestors,” I mean the biological ones who have recently crossed or who have crossed [a] long, long time ago. They are still present.
TS: Now, let’s say somebody had a troubled relationship with their most recently deceased blood relative. It wasn’t a good relationship—troubled relationship. Now what happens? This is a spirit on the other side. How does that go? Do I just immediately respect this ancestor, even though when they were—you know?
MS: No! This is a very interesting question, because of the kind of ancestry I’ve been talking about really relates to culture—very familiar with how tribal life is structured—because they’ve lived in it. They’ve aligned themselves in it. So, there’s no concept of “bad ancestors.”
So, in a culture like the Western culture, someone might have some serious issues with ancestors. The situation is that this feeling is more or less like toxic. To keep it boxed in—at least, of all the people—they have a reason to engage their ancestors.
If anything, to tell these ancestors how they feel about the legacy that they have left behind—about the kind of deed in their name—while they still have the blessing of a physical body. Now, having crossed to the other side, they mess that they leave behind—all the kind of bitter feeling that they leave behind—is something that has to be communicated.
In the indigenous Dagara culture, what happens is that it is the opposite. It’s the ancestors who are angry at this or that. Those they’ve left behind are leaving or cutting off the link. They are acting in a way that disrupts the continuity. So, the ancestors are mad at them for that.
In this culture, however, it seems like it’s the opposite. People feel terribly at odds when they look at their own ancestors simply because of the horror stories that they’re reminded of.
So, in this case, it is a good idea to learn to be explicit about feeling—saying it like it is to the ancestors is believed to be a major healing occasion because on the other side of this divide, people don’t take things as personally as we do on this side. In fact, telling the truth is indeed a reflection of a kind of authenticity—a desire to make things right, compelling the other world—the world of the ancestors—to find ways to cooperate with the person so that life down the road can be healthier and can be more dynamic.
So, something like this is the kind of situation that I look at as a privileged situation. At least those people have a truth against ancestors. It is not bad at all. It is something that shows that there is a subject matter worth taking to their attention, making it look like they have to take responsibility from where they are now that they have better ways and means in order to correct a situation that they have created and left rotting behind them.
So, more than even the indigenous Dagara people, I think people in this culture have a good, a better reason to address ancestors.
TS: Let’s just get specific. Let’s say somebody’s listening, and they’re thinking of a deceased relative of theirs that they have a legitimate gripe with of some kind. They’re upset with this deceased relative for one reason or another. How would you suggest it would be effective to work that out with the deceased ancestor?
MS: In fact, there are different ways of [doing it.] The easy ways are a lot more challenging, because they demand knowing how to set the condition—that is to say, creation of a personal, sacred space. [This] means an altar to the ancestors and the capacity to inject it with a kind of atmosphere conducive to a lot of sharing—to a lot of emoting.
The easier one is more in community. In works better in a group context. [This is an] ancestor’s ritual that starts with everyone gathered on the subject of engaging the ancestors about these issues that they’re having a serious time dealing with. They can support each other, making the whole thing a lot more easy to come out.
These types of community rituals include the creation of a sacred shrine, a fire that is blazing, and then the individual asks to bundle up their issues with the ancestors and bring them first to the altar—or sacred space or shrine. Then, taking this bundle and putting them into the fire where it is expected that the ancestors are waiting to take them—to take all these issues.
So, at first—of course, the bundling is as simple as gathering combustible items and assigning each one of them an issue that is really burning inside of the self in association with the ancestors.
But, what I was thinking about is also the capacity to sit in group and begin helping each other to share those issues so that they become a kind of collective pool—a pooling of issues that later on can be therefore brought to the attention of the ancestors, making it possible for them to feel more relieved. Having released these issues into the hands of the ancestors and spoken about those issues not in a kind of censored way, but in a very elaborate fashion.
When you’re really pissed off, your vocabulary is not necessarily well thought-of. You just come out flaming if you have to—if that’s the way you feel like. So, to be able to get that kind of feeling out, bundle it up in a physical form and then later on to take that to the fire, there is at least a bigger chance of a catharsis—the nature of which can lighten up the heart and soul of the people who have gathered to do something like this.
However well-choreographed and seemingly complicated it is, it is actually the most promising one of these two because when you do have some issues—we’re angry at the ancestor; you’re disappointed about them because of one thing or another—you have to create your own shrine and do these things all by yourself. It is too private. Community is not emphasized at that time. Your own self, isolated as you are, may find yourself censoring yourself unbeknownst to yourself. In the end, you might achieve limited results.
This is why in community there’s a greater chance of letting go or letting out much more than [when you’re] isolated and in private. In the end, these issues may not be as isolated as they appear. You may have some personal issues with your ancestor, but in the context of a community, when you start sharing those issues, you may find that—whoa!—there’s more than other person who’s got those same issues with their ancestors.
So, together you can make much more poignant effect than if you were doing that all by yourself. This is why I always love to address the issue of the ancestors, because this is the first step towards a kind of relationship in which things that work are working because those ancestors have taken the message seriously enough to be involved in the lives of those that uttered these words.
The result can be visible. The visibility could be just an inner sense of peace that translates into a better, more positive vision of the world around us.
It seems as if the same tension that bad relationship with ancestors produced inside of us is also present in the ancestors. Maybe that’s the reason why they say, “As above, so below.” While we find ourselves tormented by some legacy we didn’t sign up for, it might just be that what we feel is felt tenfold down below in the realm of the ancestors. Maybe it’s their bad feeling that is kind of leaking from there into our consciousness, making us realize how ugly things are on a daily basis.
It would make sense, therefore, not to see this kind of feeling as just an isolated, personal thing that addresses the self to your relationship with your ancestors—but to see perhaps that this the result of a more generalized issue that is contributing to a deeper and deeper disconnection from the ancestors.
Of course, anything that we’ve justified—anything we can come up with a reason not to do—such as relating to our ancestors would tend to feel entitled to it. Why speak to somebody I don’t like? More often than not, in the context of the individualism in this culture, it is better to just avoid crossing paths with such a person.
But, in the end, on the issue of the ancestors, we cannot avoid crossing paths with them. It’s like that which we’re trying to run away from is running with us. So, therefore, it makes more sense to just turn around and face it like it is, saying it in the most—I don’t know—despicable terms we can come up with in order to better reflect the feeling that we have inside. The closer we are to the truth of our feeling, the greater the healing.
TS: Now, Malidoma, I’m impressed and moved by the fact that you talked about the world of the ancestors within the Dagara tribe context as being a parallel world—like there’s a second world occurring. This ancestral world.
I think for a lot of people in the West, this is a very foreign idea. There’s an ancestral world along with our human, incarnated world? So, tell me how you have confidence that this is a fact—that there’s this second world, the world the ancestors live in.
MS: Oh my God. I don’t even know where to start within this! The issue is so ingrained in the Dagara culture that it comes with no second thoughts—no second guess—as to the truth of it.
The fact is that, really, this parallel world that—and I use the term “parallel” because it looks like it is. This world that we call “the world of the ancestors” is accessible through either various gateways or through various testings.
First, the gateway. I’ve lived long enough to be able to testify for the existence in Dagara land of the realm of the ancestors—this world of the ancestors—because when, back in 2002, my mother died, I had to go to the realm of the ancestors in order to find out why. She had died rather prematurely and suddenly, and something was wrong about that. Something was wrong about that. It felt clearly to me like there was foul play.
So, my investigation led me to the persons that have the ability to guide others to the realm of the ancestors. Of course, there’s a strict set of rules to follow if you want to come back from there.
But to make a long story short, I was taken to cross the big river into what looked like the other shore. But, I really never did reach the other shore. When I was about to get there, another world opened itself.
How did it happen? It happened looking like—I don’t know—one of those quantum singularities. Not a bright light, but more like a black door which I entered. On the other side was a world not unlike this—pretty much similar—except that there was some kind of feeling that there’s something odd about it.
So, the issue about a parallel world became really clear to me. Why is it that I had to cross a river—not really cross, but almost cross a river—to get to a world that is complete with everything that we have on this side except that something that cannot quite be described is there?
Notice here I’m not talking about anything heavenly like in the Christian tradition or everything looks like, “This is a better world.” I’m talking about a world like this—but which has its own specialty, in the sense that the people there are—oh boy.
When the nights come and they go to sleep, they are not sleeping the way we sleep here. In fact, in terms of the daily interaction—and that’s what I was describing as odd—nothing is quite like here. So, this is the literal witnessing of the fabric of the ancestral other world.
Now, the fact of the matter is that it is not—and I don’t assume that it would that it would be exactly like this anywhere in the world. What I know is that whenever there is a clear challenge directed at the ancestors, something happens that is clearly interpretable as a response coming from them.
Furthermore, people’s ability to see in their sleep-time dead people—their ancestors—in human form, interacting with them, provides a clue of the way in which the ancestor’s world is continuing to be active in the lives of their people in this dimension.
So, drawing from that, I can only say this: A person who, at one time or another, was able in their sleep to see themselves interacting with someone who is well-known in this world as having been dead, most likely has been hailed and pulled into awareness of the presence of that ancestor in their lives.
So, this should be a very simple but direct clue as to our inseparable relationship with ancestors. Of course, I don’t know about those who have never dreamed about anybody who’s dead. That might be part of another issue that eventually could be investigated and clarified. I’m just limiting it to this capacity that I notice is vastly present in modern culture.
So, any person with that capacity would do best by assuming that this is not just a dream that finds particle memories in the brain being activated in such a way that it translates into this kind of vision—this kind of dream.
If we go by this, then it makes sense that such an ancestor that has appeared in the dream should be the messenger to everyone else they know, in terms of what the recipient of such a dream is feeling in these days.
So, this is the most I can come up with. I cannot assume that there is a sacred river somewhere in this vast country that people can go to and that there is someone who is expert enough who’s going to take him on a boat or kayak across. Eventually, they will get to a world where they can see their dead being present.
But, I can certainly acknowledge that people dream about their ancestors in this culture, which means that the disconnection that sometimes we deliberately try to make happen rarely succeeds, simply because they know for a fact that they cannot disconnect from us. Therefore, they will find a way through the subtle channels of our subspace imagination to reach our consciousness.
TS: Now, Malidoma, you said that your mother died and that it was mysterious. You had questions about that. What did you discover and what did you discover in relationship to the ancestral connection now between you and your mom?
MS: Oh, a lot. A lot. I kind of suspected that you would want to know more about this.
The fact of the matter is that when I went there, I was carrying my mother’s purse. I was told that in order to go there and meet the person that [I wanted] to meet—because you cannot meet the person in the way you meet people in this world. You can meet the person by way of utilizing an item that carries the energy of the person while they were still here.
So, I brought her purse. I was instructed to leave it at a crossroad, which I did. I was also instructed to keep myself hidden, because any encounter will make me highly emotional and the expression of emotion in that dimension glues you to that dimension. In other words, you can’t come back.
TS: Oh my.
MS: So, I had to leave the purse at the crossroads—just a basket woven with millet stems—and hide myself inside a tree. Then I could see her carrying her usual clay jar full of water and following other people. When she saw the purse, strangely enough she recognized it. She recognized it in a very graphic fashion, because she just dropped everything she had and grabbed it and started crying—in the process saying all kinds of things.
What I learned from what she said was that she was poisoned.
TS: Wow.
MS: That’s what I brought back with me, realizing that my action had indeed brought her much closer to me than she ever was when she was in this world. I can feel her. I can sense her presence in times of crisis. She keeps pointing directions to me. She’s much more active in my life than my father. They both died the same year—my father in February and my mother in October.
What I’m noticing is that the greater my mother’s presence in my life, the more I can feel as if—and this is very frequent—she’s not gone. She’s still here. Of course, it took me a few years to recover from the graphic nature of what I witnessed. But after I overcame that, I found myself in a new, more potent and healing relationship with her.
So, this is what leads me to believe that any time we are able to consciously wake up in this world with a vivid impression of having crossing paths with some ancestors, more likely than not this is an invitation to contemplate more dynamic [and] more intimate relationship with that ancestor in the interest of healing, in the interest of change, and transformation.
TS: Now, Malidoma, we talked about the person who might be mad at one of their deceased relatives. I’m curious if somebody’s listening and they’re thinking, “Gosh, I have so much gratitude towards one of my deceased relatives. I don’t know if I’m honoring them to the level that I’d like to in my life. The fact is they died, and as far as I’m concerned, there is no parallel world and I haven’t been honoring them. I’ve just been going about my life.”
What could that person to express the deep sense of gratitude and reverence they might have that they haven’t expressed?
MS: So, it’s a desire to express. The truth of the matter is if you don’t have anything to say, well then you don’t say anything—although not having anything to say is a mirror of the level of imagination you’re at.
The issue is that we have to have things to say to each other. If anything, “Hello. I thank you for this day.” Or, “I want you to accompany me throughout this day, because I’m going here [and] I’m going there.” Or, “I’m just sitting and enjoying having a good time. Just be with me.”
We don’t necessarily have to go to the ancestors when we have issues. In fact, people like that—who do not have any issue with their ancestors and even are feeling greater and greater gratitude towards those ancestors—should therefore translate their gratitude to include sharing time and space together.
How does that look like? First, through speech. The capacity to constantly speak to these ancestors at any given moment—while we exchange from one activity to another—it makes sense to simply find a formula that can be articulated in such a way that it sends a clear message to the other world that it is invited. The ancestors need to be in our lives not necessarily to tell us what to do, but to be with us. There’s nothing wrong with being [and] sharing, and the easiest sharing is the one that takes the form of the little anecdote about our lives—sharing those impressions that we get, sharing this precious moment that we are blessed with—and not always the bad moments.
So, people like this—who want, in the end, to be able to express greater gratitude—should know that perhaps the very quality of their lives is interpreted by these ancestors as an expression of their gratitude. Sometimes, the gratitude is not discursive. It doesn’t have to come formulated in terms of words, but more in terms of demeanor. How we live our lives—the amount of honesty, integrity, sincerity—the amount of lovingness that we can bring to this world—all of that [is] welcomed by the ancestors we are grateful for and is seen as the expression of our gratefulness. [his means that it is directly the result of the quality of the interaction we’ve had with the ancestor when they were in flesh and blood that is continuing in this fashion.
So, we may always ask the question, “How has my day-to-day been lived as an expression of gratitude to the ancestors?” As opposed to thinking of it in this three-dimensional context in which, if gratitude is felt—gratitude must be expressed in word—I would say, “Not necessarily.” When gratitude is like a dress that we put on—a colorful outfit that we put on—and we walk with it on a daily basis, then gratitude doesn’t have to be given at a specific time for its expression. Instead, it is expressed as long as we draw breath.
So, the desire to express more gratitude may not be because the current is not enough, but may be the result of an insufficient understanding of the quality of our life that could be an expression—a wordless expression—of that gratitude. If we look more carefully, we could see it. We could see that if we don’t say it, we live it. Either one is good—the best being the one that is wrapped around the self and walked with on a daily basis.
TS: Now, we started our conversation, Malidoma, about defining, “Who are the ancestors anyway?” You talked about how in the Dagara tribe it’s—yes—your blood relatives, but also people of the village who are deceased. Here, when we try to understand that as Western people, people I think can track very easily who their deceased blood relatives are. But, because we don’t live in a village context, who are my ancestors besides my blood relatives? How do I relate to that idea?
MS: Well, let’s just say there’s a tree that you are attracted to [that] might be your ancestors. That precious family member that you call “dog”—the recently passed—might be an ancestors that has moved in with you and with whom you have been able to experience quality of love and quality of relationship that perhaps you wouldn’t be able to express with any other being.
So, there is such a relaxed web of ancestry accessible [and] available to a Westerner simply because the stretch of modernity is of such nature that it is and should be inclusive. Ancestors have decided to embody not just a kind of subspace physicality that can project itself into their descendants’ consciousness in the same form as before, but they can also take on forms in nature that are alive and are speaking to us in ways not in English, but that we can pick up loud and clear in our bones, in our heart so that the emotional self, the physical self, and the mental self all together join in this kind of fusion for the purpose of a much more conscious self.
I see this as a greater opportunity—that ancestors have figured out all these different ways to interact with Westerners. This is why even the sacred mountain out there can be seen to be the face of the ancestors looking at you at any time. Those moments that you spent staring at it—what if our energy is going there? This represents a sacred moment of interaction with ancestry.
The worst spot—or should I say, the narrowest imagery—will be to associate ancestor with biology. [This] means that it’s your grandmother, great grandmother, great grandfather, and so on and so forth. This is not really a picture that suits the Western psyche as such. It should be more expansive before it retracts into something more compact. Whereas in a context where a village is there—a family is there—there has been the kind of continuity associated with a village and drawing from various practices of relationship—that it makes sense that ancestry be perceived in this fashion.
But, in the modern situation, the whole concept is a lot more relaxed [and] a lot more stretched out. It is important to see ancestors in various forms of life and various shapes. That would give one the opportunity at least not to get stuck in the excuses that, “I can only remember my great grandfather but I don’t even know anybody beyond that,” but to realize first of all those who are your ancestors that you claim not to know—they know you.
Therefore, what’s wrong with first starting by telling them, “I don’t know you. Can you make yourself be known?” For instance, if you are at the waterfront while you’re saying that—at the ocean while you’re saying that—if you see a dolphin pop out or some kind of whale that’s hit the water, creating a huge wave—what if this is the ancestors responding to you?
It could be the same thing in nature. As you begin contemplating the concept of ancestors, you see a deer or a bear or any kind of animal. A bird that flies by in a way that is rather unusual. All of these should be taken not just as manifestation of spirit—at least in the Dagara context. These are the different ways in which ancestors will speak to us.
I’m saying that thinking about one thing: When an ancestor wants to get your attention to something, they talk about various imagery going on. For instance, myself being connected with water. That was my grandfather’s way of letting me know that he dwells in the water and that I should be willing to come to the water to do the kind of ritual that he suggests I should do in the interests of a more fluid relationship.
Similarly, a person who dreams of water might be someone who is being invited by his or her ancestors to go to the water. A person who finds him or herself drawn to nature might be invited by his or her ancestors to join with nature in the interest of discovering another face of these ancestors as expressed by beings of nature, beings of water, beings of the mountains, and so on and so forth.
So, this diversity is a testimony to the fact that the ancestors and modernity are quite busy. They inhabit so many different realms that translate into our consciousness as us being drawn toward the physical areas that are a mirror of what the ancestors want to use to get our attention.
So, this [adds] some colorfulness to all of this.
TS: Now, I’m curious Malidoma—just to get personal again for a moment—in your own work, whether it’s teaching—or I know you do a lot of divination sessions for individuals—how do you work with the ancestors? Do you do a certain kind of invocation? How does it work for you?
MS: Well, first of all, I don’t do any work without first doing my own personal—call it invocation, to the ancestors. I always tell the spirit of my father to join with the water and my grandfather so that he can take that spirit to my mother’s and everyone willing to partake in this moment. Together, they can pave the way for a kind of fluidity that is similar to a big river moving.
These are the kinds of things I do personally before I interact with the world—with anybody—in a sacred way. In divination, what always pops out is the ancestors that seem to be the central messaging device for everything else that is going on in the divination. They seem to be the one hidden voice that speaks to everything else that is going on. That’s what I find very interesting.
So, is it because I begin such initiatives by invoking them to come over and to make sure that truth [and] authenticity be conveyed in the most gentle way possible and that they make sure that the receiving party has the channel necessary to understand, record, and ingest everything that is coming out? I believe that’s what it is, and that’s what I have verified over and over again. I feel strongly that without them, I’ll be just me—confused, walking and talking like a blind person. Or, should I say, making up things right and left.
Even if that is a possibility, the thing is that in divination, it’s not the diviner who is really doing the job. The diviner is putting himself on loan for the spirit to do the job. It’s just that somehow everything must be translated into a digestible language by the other.
I think that what has constituted an area of excitement and humility at the same time was to see that these ancestors are not so extroverted as to jump in, take over, and do things in a very overt fashion. The subtleties of their entrance into the psyche and the manner in which they provide imageries—sequencing them in such a way that the way they are coming out makes me feel like, “No. I can’t be saying this.” It does constitute a clear demonstration of their powerful ability to take over somebody.
Now, I don’t want to suggest that there’s possession going on at that time. There’s fusion, more like it. There is a kind of symbiosis that seems to be, in effect, reflecting a partnership that is most sacred. That’s what I like about this. Interacting with the ancestors translates more often than not into a kind of confidence that does not come with this kind of reckless self-analysis and bad grading of the self, but is perceived or felt like someone from behind or from the side is actually doing the job.
The best I can do is to be present to it. That’s what makes it really exciting for me to—and I find it impossible to think of what I’d do without the ancestors being present because it would feel like an utter isolation. Of course, it would be quite impossible to do.
TS: OK, Malidoma. I just have two final questions for you.
MS: OK.
TS: Here’s the first one: You’re in such a unique position, having been so deeply immersed in two cultures—both your Dagara tribe of Burkina Faso and also here you are, three master’s degrees, two PhDs, fully immersed in the contemporary Western culture. I’m curious: if you were just to summarize what you think the most important thing we Westerners could learn from the Dagara tribe and what you think perhaps the most important thing the Dagara tribe might benefit from Western culture. What [do you] think that might be? What’s the important thing we could learn from each other?
MS: In fact, the most important thing that a Westerner can learn from Dagara culture is the availability of other worlds. In other words, the presence of a larger-than-reality available to everyone that could better be accessed within the context of a well-woven community.
“Well-woven” in this case would be more like the return to ritual literacy—the kind that makes sacred different choreographies of human and otherworldly interactions, resulting, therefore, in a more full life—a more full consciousness. Simply put, it is really the preponderant presence of spirit everywhere and in everything.
That is something that is consistent with any indigenous culture. If they have something to offer, it would be basically this kind of thing—the respect for nature, the respect for community, the respect for all that is alive. As the natives would say, “All my relations.”
Now, what Dagara can learn from the West is that there are ways of making community life be receptive in a nondestructive fashion—various ways of making life easier. In other words, we cannot express our indigenous self by way of maintaining the same manner of farming year after year. There is, perhaps—in a context in which the traditional ways of farming are failing to yield enough nourishment for a family they way they used to.
It’s a good thing for Dagara people to open themselves to new ways of approaching the land—of approaching the environment—so that it can yield more nourishment. [This would be] something similar to that which was once available.
Of course, this is something is directly the result of various changes—most of which have been triggered by modernity. But, I have to insist that we have not come together as a way to progress in a divided fashion. In other words, the current situation is not one that calls for turning one’s back at the inevitable and continuing to live life as if nothing has happened—but more to take the new into the old in an embrace that translates into greater light.
That indigenous people can learn and learn quickly. They need to do that before they go extinct.
My situation is a mirror of that. Here I am, after all this education that pretty much was preparing me for something totally different from what I’m doing these days. I find myself incorporating both the indigenous and the modern. I would like to serve as a testimony that this is not impossible—that we don’t live in a better world by keeping to ourselves, by keeping things separate. Integration and a heart open enough to accept both worlds—or however many there are—could translate into a spirit that is that much more expanded. Or, should I say, ascended—to encompass the planet as it is: in a state of metamorphosis.
I believe that this is something that indigenous Dagara want to learn from a cultural perspective, a technological perspective, and what else—so that at least in the end this whole idea of opening the self, making a space in the self for the other, can translate into something of a real global community.
TS: OK, Malidoma. My final question—although there are so many things we could talk about. I focused on the ancestors because it’s something that I really wanted to hear you talk about. But, there are so many topics we could talk about. So, I hope we get another chance to talk to you at some point.
But, my final question just for today is that our show is called Insights at the Edge. I’m always curious to know what somebody’s personal edge is. You could say [this is] the part of their life they’re most inspired to grow in or most interested—their sort of current edge of transformation. What [is that] for you?
MS: That’s very interesting. You know what my personal edge is? The [constancy] and clarity about home. Where is home?
Of course, I can say that home is where I am. Home is here in the West. Home is there in my village in Dano. But when all is said and done, I found out that when I’m here, I’m thinking about there. When I’m there, I’m thinking about here.
Therefore, this has been a question and an issue that has put me on my toes for the past 35 years. I feel that maybe this is the way to keep myself alert and aware—that I am dealing with this issue of home simply because of the very nature of what I signed up to do. As long as this is an issue—as long as this is the poignant question of my everyday life—something tells me I’m going the right direction.
So, “home” should not be something that I feel is the final destination. But, “home” should be a vehicle that is taking me from one episode to another of my work, keeping me on red alert. That’s what my edge is.
TS: It does sound like that’s such a big part of your destiny. Quite honestly, Malidoma, [that aspect] sounds a little hard.
MS: In fact, yes, it’s hard. But there were times when it was much harder. But, the more I am willing to look at it in this fashion—the more I realize that indeed I’m being asked to look at home from a more transcendent perspective than the one that is just confined to a geography and a culture and so on and so forth. As long as I stay on that edge, I realize that this is the feeling associated with living in two worlds.
TS: Malidoma, it’s always great to talk to you. You shoot straight. I like it.
MS:[Laughs.] Thank you, Tami. You shoot straight too.
TS: That’s right.
MS: That’s why I’m your wild card!
TS: Malidoma Somé, a true heart-wild man. [He’s] the author of several books, including Of Water and Spirit: The Healing Wisdom of Africa [and] Ritual: Power, Healing, and Community, and a friend to Sounds True.
Malidoma, great to talk to you. Thank you so much.
MS: Thank you for having me.
TS: SoundsTrue.com. Many voices, one journey. Thanks for listening.
