Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [115]
I held a public event aimed at exposing the community to Yoruba culture. It was a free event, not because I could afford to host it, but because I wanted to dispel the rumors that I was taking money from people for other than spiritual reasons. When the other priests heard about the event, they went on the attack. A letter was sent to all priests, warning them not to attend. I was called a series of names, casting doubt on my character and integrity. Some clients and students believed the rumors. Others didn’t care. What could have been a beautiful event turned into a community war between those who believed me and those who believed my critics. Articles were written in the newspaper, people talked about it on the radio. I was defensive and angry and hurt. In the end, over two hundred people attended and thanked me for having the event. But the shadow was cast. The client base dwindled. I was estranged from the other priests in the community, and I had a serious case of self-doubt. I needed to regroup.
What do you want to do? I wanted to use my spiritual gifts to help people. What are your spiritual gifts? When I am rested and focused, I can hear the voice of Spirit. I can see the presence of Spirit. What do you want to do? I want to use the ability to hear and see Spirit in a way that helps other people. How are you going to do that? I didn’t have a clue.
I stopped accepting new clients. I kept my students and continued teaching about Yoruba culture. My radio job was paying me, but it wasn’t enough to sustain my household. There were times when Gemmia needed money, and I didn’t have it to send. At times, she would have to walk fifteen blocks to Western Union to pick up twenty-five dollars so that she could buy food. If the electricity was on, the telephone was not. If the telephone was on, the gas was not. If the utilities were all on, we had no food. I was too afraid, too wounded to take on more clients, and my students were watching me. What do you want to do? Right now, I want to eat. What is your greatest strength? Oral communication. What is your greatest weakness? Jumping to conclusions, always expecting the worst. What are you expecting right now? To fail. To fail miserably and have people talk about me. Why? Because I am bad. I don’t matter. I am nothing; I will never be anything good.
Everything I had learned and had not learned, everything I believed about myself or had ever been taught about myself, had come alive in my life. It contradicted everything Balé had told me. How could I build character while believing I was worthless? How could I build a life while believing I was unworthy? How could I take care of myself when I didn’t have a man? When things got really rough, it didn’t matter that I was a priest. Beneath all of the ceremony, and all of the knowledge I had gained from the books, there was a frightened, wounded little girl named Rhonda. She was in total control of my life, and Iyanla, who had yet to find an identity, didn’t have a clue about what to do next.
Yes, I prayed. But I was really begging God to help me. I was not communing with the divine power within me. I was asking a big God out there to save me from myself, like He had saved me from Grandma. God cannot help you unless you are very clear about what it is that you want. God will not help you if you do not believe that you are worthy of the help. Yes, I was meditating. But when you live in fear, meditation becomes an opportunity for your mind to play tricks on you. You get momentary glimpses of what could be. However, since you don’t believe in yourself because you do not understand your own power, you dismiss the insights you gain through meditation. Besides that, I was meditating about my problems rather than meditating on the solution. Balé had gone to Africa for an extended visit. I was trying to figure out what he would say to me,