Black, queer, feminist, The Fire Inside casts a fresh new light on the radical literary legacies of James Baldwin and Audre Lorde
Includes meditation exercises
Named a Lit Hub Independent Press Top 40 Bestseller.
The Fire Inside explores the writings of Audre Lorde and James Baldwin through a Dharmic lens, revealing for the first time how two of America’s greatest literary voices reflect—and expand—Buddhism’s most timeless truths toward justice and liberation.
Dr. Rima Vesely-Flad dives deeply into a dharma of liberation as lived by Baldwin and Lorde, offering timely lessons to help us each meet this moment. She explores the writers’ enduring legacies to show that liberation depends not only on organizing and mass movements, but the generative power of inner well-being, authenticity, art, and embodiment. Each chapter shares how looking inward is the way forward, examining Baldwin and Lorde through key Buddhist
Suffering as a how Baldwin and Lorde investigated suffering in their own lives—and how expanded and disrupted interpretations of the DharmaDenial, impermanence, and on Baldwin’s exploration of white supremacy and fear of death and Lorde’s understanding of illness and inevitable changeUltimate and relative how honoring race, gender, sexuality, and difference lies at the heart of Buddhist liberationKarma and how the doctrine of karma can be reclaimed to cultivate inner liberation and support activists working to dismantle oppressionAnger and how we metabolize internalized rage, reject hatred, and embrace compassion toward transformationErotic paths to on the power of sensuality and erotic energy; rejecting dominant heteronormativity; and attaining enlightenment through sexual union This book offers space for emerging conversations within spiritual communities—ones that don’t shy away from difficult or uncomfortable truths; that center—and celebrate—Black, queer, radical thought; and that embrace the ways our inner lives, creative fire, sensuality, and expressions of love can ignite and sustain revolutionary liberation.
When I picked up the book, I thought the connection between Buddhist praxis and the authors pointed to in the title would be a stretch but I was wrong. The author of this book makes a compelling case and on the way integrates personal work with social justice praxis as thoughtfully and compellingly as anyone else I've read. I can see a chapter or two being used as useful counterpoints in introductory psychoanalysis classes as well.
Practices to review: pp69=73 Feed Your Demons; pp 97-99 RAIN practice (maybe improved from earlier iterations) ----------------
4 The stories of the Buddha encouraged me to believe in my capacity to turn toward my suffering and to be liberated from it, with support. 5 If Black Radical writers have urged me to decolonize my mind, Buddhist teachings and practices have provided a salient, clear way to do it. But it is a cyclical process. We cannot only be focused on internal liberation. We are compelled to change oppressive conditions that lead to suffering, too. [...] How do we meet the magnitude of this suffering, of Palestinians as well as our own? 6 May we, individually and collectively, transform the painful conditioning of our minds as we work to transform the violent conditions of our world. 8 I stand in the lineage of Audre Lorde: I acknowledge my desire for safety, and I risk exile in order to advocate for others. 19 "I also know that if today I refuse to hate Jews, or anybody else, it is because I know how it feels to be hated," Baldwin wrote. <> 21 Nhat Hanh, through a Buddhist lens, and King, through a Christian lens, saw that oppressive violence does not make the world safer. 25 I am coming up against the limits of compassion. I am observing that the practice of loving-kindness is only one wing of the bird. Clear seeing -- blunt, unfiltered, nuanced -- is necessary, too. And the practice of clear seeing can not only be relegated to individual feelings. To break through avoidance, to really take on suffering, we have to address power dynamics, including violent state power. 27 White American Buddhists have sought to create compassionate refuge without a corresponding commitment to seeing mundane reality clearly. What is called clear seeing instead often functions as myopia. 28 I claim the Buddhist tradition precisely because it has provided doctrines and practices to confront suffering -- on multiple dimensions -- and stay with it, not avoid it. 41 But most importantly, I learned how to stay with everything that arose. [...] Baldwin, like Lorde, saw the second arrow of suffering, and wanted something different for himself: another way of being, an ability to be vulnerable with others, a capacity to trust himself and his environment. He yearned to live with a depth of intimacy that could interface with fear, and at the same time, not be ruled by fear. He desired to turn toward the anguish that arose from fear and to know that anguish fully. 43 (Web) In a 1982 interview, Lorde said, "It's one thing to talk about feeling. It's another to feel. Yes, love is often pain. But I think what is really necessary is to see how much of this pain I can use, how much of this truth I can see and still live unblinded." 45 Turning toward pain is inseparable from gaining strength, and ultimately, interior and political freedom. 46 If I look at my most vulnerable places and acknowledge the pain I have felt, I can remove the source of that pain from my enemies' arsenal," Lorde wrote. [...] That was, at root, the practice of meditation. Confronting pain directly, willingly. A practice of fearlessness. [...] Suffering, on the other hand, is the nightmare of reliving unscrutinized and unmetabolized pain. 47 Metabolizing pain -- refusing the second arrow of unscrutinized suffering and honoring all aspects of our emotional life -- fuels our capacity for power. [...] Lorde pointed to the concept of "power" as the internal force that propels us to "bear" suffering, and in so doing, to gain control over our lives. [...] In bearing suffering, the grip of fear that clutches our minds lessens and falls away. Scrutinizing ourselves and cultivating fearlessness shift our relationships to our own inner lives and each other. 50 The capacity to suffer requires an intimacy with one's own life. It requires skill. In The Fire Next Time, Baldwin wrote: People who cannot suffer can never grow up, can never discover who they are. 58 Lorde mused: How do I hold faith with sun in a sunless place? It is so hard not to counter this despair with a refusal to see. 67 To dismantle oppression and fight for one's community required facing death for the sake of an expansive, comprehensive freedom. 68 Facing mortality directly requires building emotional muscles and an ability to believe in the interconnectedness of all beings. 78 [Baldwin 1968 interview] So it's a country immobilized, with a past it cannot explain away... Everybody has something to hide, and when you have to hide, you have to cry for despair. Despair is the American crime. So one is trapped in a kind of Sunday purgatory, and the only way out of that is to confront what you are afraid of. 80 Baldwin argued that white people needed to do their own interior work, to understand themselves and their motivations for seeking comfort and constructing illusions at the expense of Black people's lives. White Americans needed to confront their internal conditioning, their insecurities and shame. 82 White avoidance and delusion were a "white problem" that arose from childishness, the avoidance of suffering, Baldwin observed. 85 "Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." [...] If Black people embraced their pain, they could in turn stay close to joy and to one another. 86 And in their inability to evade suffering, Black people possess insight into white delusion and the conditions it perpetuates. 88 It seemed to Baldwin that white people like to think of themselves as good and moral, but cannot actually see the world as it is. They do not attempt to cultivate the stamina to face hardship and pain, including death. Their refusal to deal with their pain is infantile, childlike, Baldwin observed. Rather than grow up, they choose to blame Black people for their suffering. In their fear of death, they project their avoidance onto Black bodies. 89 For Baldwin, choosing to see the world wrongly is not just a lack of knowledge. It is a lack of courage. Choosing to see the world as it is requires the capacity to take risks. It requires stamina, a willingness to confront ignorance and delusion. 93 Baldwin linked white people's evasion of death to their fear of sensuality. Baldwin identified this white avoidance as a fundamental bypassing of the self and its impulses, especially sexual desire and fear. 95 For Baldwin, self-doubt and shame were inextricably connected to white male fears of inferior sexual prowess and desirability. It was immeasurably easier to castrate the Black man than to confront these fears. In short, whereas white American men sought to project strength and masculine power, Baldwin saw weakness and sexual insecurity. If white American men had sought to uplift Black men rather than degrade them, Baldwin thought, they would have embodied strength. But avoiding their insecurities led to unspeakable horrors for Black people, including lynching and castration. <> 96 In spite of it all, Baldwin argued, Black people possess dignity, the capacity for emotional maturity. Those of us who can face death and the fear of sexuality learn to grown up. [...] But this inner work for Baldwin, and for me, is part of a larger commitment; changing the degrading conditions that lead to psychological despair. [...] In changing our conditioning, collectively, we also seek to change conditions that lead to despair. 102 My mother did not stand up for me; she did not protect me or my brother. She did not tell my grandparents to go to hell. Years later, as I sat with my rage and my shame around her lack of protection, I came to understand yet another level of white delusion: self-protection at all costs. 104 Lorde: How to train that anger with accuracy rather than deny it has been one of the major tasks of my life. <> 105 What she sought, it seemed to me, required extraordinary internal capacity. [...] Anger was a generative force for Lorde as well as Baldwin, writes the philosopher Myisha Cherry. She argues that for Baldwin, anger arises from an "examined life." <> 109 As I began to learn the teachings and to meditate, I was able to cultivate spaciousness around my rage, to acknowledge it and let it breathe. [...] I let myself roar like a lion in private [...] The practice of exhaling my anger, rather than repressing it or acting out of it, was a practice of metabolizing. In solitude, I let my body process intense anger on its own terms. In the presence of other people [...] I was afraid of committing damage that I could not repair. Here, I practiced with anger by cultivating non-reactivity and the capacity to pause. Buddhist teachers helped me to find inner stability in the midst of confusion and rage. They helped me to stop participating in my own oppression. 110 I could take refuge, again and again, in my own person. These practices helped me to identify a place of safety within my body -- my belly or my chest -- and become deeply attuned to it. By paying attention to the rise and fall of my breath, I created a sense of emotional stability. [...] But it was a fine line between not reacting and repressing my anger -- that is, self-silencing. 111 Early Buddhism and forms of Mahayana Buddhism (the second "turning of the wheel") describe anger as a defilement, a poison. In these lineages, anger is a negative state of mind; it impedes liberation. But this can be problematic. Repressed anger, masquerading as calm, can be misconstrued as tolerance for extractive behavior, allowing other people to take advantage of me and others who were exploited. Vajrayana Buddhism spoke of turning poisons into the energy required for liberation. I appreciated the teachings of the Indian Buddhist guru Dharmaraksita on the usefulness of anger. [...] He was primarily intent upon transforming anger for the purpose of personal, moral, and spiritual development. 124 I heard from both Lorde and Buddhist tradition: The practice of clearly seeing and embracing our own suffering can only be effective if we give ourselves the tenderness and affection that we often desperately want from our mothers. 131 As I commit to healing and political action -- as inseparable movements -- I continue to honor my inner life and seek ways to embody liberation. 132 [...] I would reflect on our dynamic and other relationships that had offered me aspects of myself that I yearned to embrace. 137 Audre Lorde's embrace of erotic power shone a light on a concept central to Tibetan Tantric Buddhism: Sensuality, practiced with Right View, can be embraced as a path to liberation. 161 The work in front of me, using Baldwin's and Lorde's words as a guide, is to metabolize -- to turn toward it all, rather than shut down. I draw upon Buddhist doctrine and practice: clear seeing, deep compassion, envisioning mother-goddesses, coming back to my body as refuge, again and again.
I’ve been carrying around The Fire Inside: The Dharma of James Baldwin and Audre Lorde for a little over a month, (thanks to @natlanticbooks for the gifted copy). I was excited about this tile, but didn’t know how much I needed to read it until the first few pages. Rima Vesely-Flad writes, “ I saw myself as capable. But I did not see myself as powerful and fear. I reckoned with my penchant for self-silencing; I was wired to make myself safe. But I was inspired by Baldwin and Lorde to face my own suffering… to cultivated deep sense of authority within my being (3). With that, I was dropped in. Vesely-Flad captured something soul-shaking, something identity-making for me in this moment: who am I (as a citizen, as an educator) in this time of upheaval? This book provided a way to steady myself to move forward.
I’ve read a lot about Baldwin and Lorde, (perhaps two biographies worth on each!), yet I was deeply moved by the way Vesely-Flad interpreted key teachings from each to deepen their Buddhist practice, political engagement , and personal development. There’s a little here for everyone: spiritual practice and meditation, literary analysis, reflection for healing and re-tooled lessons in activism. I especially appreciated the chapters “Pain That Saves Your Life” and “Training Anger with Accuracy,” both chapters that tackle the complexity and necessity of emotions we try to deny or hide from. Using the example of the abandonment she experienced within her own family alongside the words of Baldwin and Lorde, the writer leds us to practices that I see as essential for showing up for ourselves and our communities.
SUCH A GOOD BOOK ! Beautifully written and gorgeously incorporated the teachings of Audre Lorde (one of my favorite writers ever) and James Baldwin ❤️ such important work & representation
Wow and more wow. As a buddhist working with whiteness, rage and injustice, trying to find practices that are relevant and avoid spiritual bypassing - this book was revelatory!