Noemi - Daughter of Freed Slaves
I did a meditation last weekend with my mom. I'd really been looking forward to it -it had been a while for both of us and unfortunately she got interrupted! Usually we have interesting experiences together - cross-overs and shared memories...but we haven't had a good one together for a very long time.
Near the end I gravitated towards my life as Noemi, the daughter of freed slaves. As Noemi, I never experienced slavery myself, but I saw the scars it left upon my mother and father - emotionally and physically. My mother never wanted me or my brother to know what it meant to be a slave; she tried to hide it from us, rarely speaking about her life before freedom. My sister Carrie knew, but she was much older than Teddy and I. She was close to our mother in a different way than us younger kids were.
Teddy and I may have been "born free," but that freedom was still limited at the time. The town was segregated - there was a definite white/black area. I remember walking through the trees along a path to the white side where my mother worked, and how the people treated her. She didn't let it bother her - at least not in front of me. But at some point, she stopped taking me to work with her when things got a little rough. I know she worried for us all.
I found great joy in the little things in life - and my great passion was singing. I was plenty fussed over by the little old ladies in the community that gathered around in the afternoons to chat and share their stories. My special friend was "Miss Ella," and to me she was a very wise old woman who knew a lot about music - and life!
Here's what I wrote in my journal from last weekend:
I went to Noemi's life and I was standing up in front of the church congregation singing about "the blood of the lamb." I felt so happy and carefree, standing up there singing - like it was what I was meant to do. It came from some place deep inside me - that soulful vibration. I looked over and saw my Momma and Daddy and my brother Teddy all smiling at me. My sister was there with her new husband, and I was feeling proud cuz she was so pretty.
I was getting random brief flashes of Noemi's life - carrying wood into the house. Momma telling me to sit still while she braided my hair. Playing with my sister's baby. Climbing up the little stairs to the attic room I shared with Teddy. Walking with Momma through the white part of town when she went to work. Sitting outside the white lady's house waiting for Momma. Skipping down the dirt road through the trees with Momma calling to me to slow down.
The next day I googled the "blood of the lamb and negro spirituals" and found reference in Questia to a song from 1764 called "Been wash'd in the blood of the Lamb." There is a similar reference in an 1800's hymnal - dunno if it's the same song, but I'm betting on an adaptation of the original. I looked on youtube and although there are similarities between the songs, the current versions lack the "soul" I remember experiencing during my meditation.
One thing that stays with me very strongly from Noemi's memories - is
the joy of song. Worshiping in church was a whole different experience; it wasn't a bunch of people sitting all proper and quiet and reciting back things, and fire and brimstone sermons. It was joy -
pure joy. Being thankful - and being together in Spirit. The preaching made people
rise up together in joy - not be knocked down by fear of damnation. The congregation would sing back, hands clapping, feet stomping...it was
beautiful!
I have many vivid memories of Noemi, her life and her family, recorded in journals, both old and new. Many of the validations have to do with music. Eventually I may share some more of her life here on the forum
Aili
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Noemi