I am not writing to give you a review of her work. Anyway,any review I do would  likely be an Ode to Maya, How Sweet the Sound…. One of the themes that continue to re-surface for me (in all of her works) is ‘Simplicity’ and removing the chaos from one’s (my) life.

So a theme I’ll be infusing into my life doings for 2009 for me is to continue establishing Simplicity in my life.

• Simplicity: freedom from deceit or guile; sincerity; artlessness; naturalness: a simplicity of manner.

Not that Maya focuses on this theme. In fact, some might say she endured (willingly and unwillingly) a lot of chaos in the chapters of life covered in her autobiographies. Simplicity is the place my mind travels to when triggered by a word or event or story from her life.  Not over complicating things and embracing what simply is, I think, will help shift to a place of Honesty.  I started this last year in 2008; Decompressing from a very draining 2007. And I’ll continue with the goal of ending ending somewhere better and more refreshed than before I started this journey.

In September I read the Collected Autobiographies of Maya Angelou‘ and boy was it an AMAZING READ. It totally rocked my world during the weeks I was holding on to it and is by far a great testament to the human and what we can do with this life. After finishing Letter To My Daughter, I remembered how fired up I was about kicking off 12to28 and just doing an out of the box, unstructured thing. I also remember how up and down, emotionally, I felt about the project. It was, because, I was trying to go HOLLYWOOD (already planning for the show before the experiences had been crafted to create a show) before I’d even put pen to paper, two-stepped a booty shake, or listened to my voice play with words. Ya’ll, I’d planned a 12to28 premier and everything!

Now, I’m back to basics. Taking the small steps that allow me to live in a space not occupied by fear and the type of ‘overwhelming’ that paralyzes.

The Lesson by Maya Angelou

I keep on dying again.

Veins collapse; opening like the

Small fists of sleeping

Children.

Memory of old tombs,

Rotting flesh and worms do

Not convince me against

The challenge, The years

And cold defeat live deep in

Lines along my face,

They dull my eyes, yet

I keep on dying,

Because I love to live.

…And what a lesson it is.