recovering from soul violence

perching lines, no. 18 (feat. a new spelling of my name)

Hello gentle-people,

Last week, I said I had some news to share, with your hint being a poem called “Song of the Law Abiding Citizen” by June Jordan. Well…

After living in this country for over 30 years of my life, I have finally become a U.S. citizen. It will take some time to get used to this new sense of privilege. I want to leverage it as much as I can to help my people. It is not lost on me what this new identity means during a time like this, especially being Haitian.

With citizenship comes a sort of vocal freedom that I am new to experiencing. Along with my new citizenship is a new name: Rose June Percy. You should know—I did not choose to come here—my parents did. But changing my name has been my choice in this process and in it I honor June Jordan. I wanted a name that reminded me of the kind of American I feel called to be—an outspoken Black queer poet with a sense of humor, grounded in love.

My identity has shifted and I am still processing this change. But trust that I am writing and looking for opportunities to reflect on this more deeply as I integrate it in the years to come.

A new middle name isn’t all that has shifted. I have also decided to spell that name, where possible, in lowercase letters. Like bell hooks, adrienne maree brown, emilie m. townes, and sometimes in her poems, Lucille Clifton. In this choice, I honor the Black women who have shaped my life through their work. I also have ideas about why being a lowercase scholar feels right for me…but I’ll save it for another day.

So in the style of EbonyJanice, allow me to reintroduce myself:

My name is rose j. percy.

I go by rose j. percy.

Which means you can call me rose j. percy.

I’ve had the idea to change my name since reading Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde, who was born “Audrey.” The idea of a biomythology has been super interesting to me, especially as I write on this change.

A “perch” is a light rest. Much needed in a world where many of us have to learn how to catch a break while standing up. In these lighter posts, I will offer poems, questions, and connections for those brief moments of reprieve. [Explore more in this series.]

Courage comes as we understand that no punishment anyone might inflict on us could possibly be worse than the punishment we inflict on ourselves by living a divided life.

—Parker Palmer, A Hidden Wholeness¹

violence to the soul

I recently read Parker Palmer’s book A Hidden Wholeness: A Journey Towards an Undivided Life. It feels opportune to have read it during the season I am in. In sitting with this quote, I am perching on “the punishment we inflict on ourselves.”

I read this and thought…what about when the punishment—or fear of punishment—inflicted on us is what causes us to live a divided life? If you are asking this too, let me know.

I want to name that Palmer is focused on the violence done to the soul that does not get to show up in the world as it’s true self. He is focused on what it looks like to walk with integrity, particularly with alignment between soul and role. He is asking, “what does it take to live an honest life?”

One where you experience alignment with who you claim you are is evident in your actions. One where we respond to a sense of call that emerges from our created nature² and not the demands pressing upon us to pursue a life that suppresses our sacred humanity.

"won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a [rule] of life?"

I have decided I want this for myself: a sense of alignment that is very me. And I am seeing it begin to emerge in:

• the first Woven retreat.

• my work as a Director of Spiritual Formation for my church.

• my voice as I perform on stage.

• my relationships with my close friends.

• new dreams I am sharing with those who walk with me spiritually.

Please note: these are all spaces where I am/was not alone. Parker Palmer says integrity is about being in right relationship—with others, nature, and in the “work your soul must have.”³

Some of us have a hard time finding this kind of community—which for me is in various forms above. But in A Hidden Wholeness, Palmer is talking about a particular kind of community that allows the shy soul to show up—a circle of trust.⁴

Some of us have experienced soul violence and find ourselves recoiling, hiding behind our excuses and fascades.⁵ To embrace that kind of vulnerability and freedom in communal space might sound to you as if it would take a miracle. I don’t have the answers but I can share a (too) brief testimony:

I have been wounded by community. I put community at arms length to protect myself. Then one day, in my isolation, I lost myself in a way that landed me in the psychiatric carceral system. My community emerged, like a pattern in the stars, stitching themselves together on my behalf. A constellation of cares. They became something in the wake of my fall. Something that could become again to break the next one:

A gentle landing.

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A moment of solitude:

The Longfellow-Washington National Park site where my naturalization happened had a beautiful garden, full of roses. I stopped to smell them, of course.

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What I’m reading:

This gallery is bookended by two Parker Palmer books—the one mentioned above (left) and Let Your Life Speak⁶ (right), which rocked my world when I first read it in 2022.

My stack (middle) hasn’t changed much. I am almost done with Song of Solomon⁷ and I REALLY want to talk to someone about it. Especially because I am near the end and I have no idea what to think of the protagonist. If you’ve read it, would you please comment and let me know? I should be done with it by the time this is published.

Oh, and in case you missed last week’s newsletter, no worries. I plan to be a broken record on this one for awhile:

Try The Artist’s Way.⁸

Landing Tracks

1. I welcome you to answer The Questionnaire to Oneself in your morning pages if you are just getting started.

2. Describe a moment where you felt courageously yourself. Was it a quiet voice emerging from the silence? Or a loud voice breaking through the quiet of injustice?

Join in the Tender Work

The tender work of A Gentle Landing is taking baby steps beyond this newsletter—yay! There are many ways to join in the tending. If you can’t become a paid subscriber yet but want to tend monetarily you can Buy Me a Feather. You could visit the Bookshop, where I earn a 10% commission and buy a book for yourself or for me.

Want to explore collaborations, connect or share a resource for A Gentle Landing? Feel free to click these helpful Substack buttons below or use this Google Form I made for all kinds of (reasonable) requests.

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2. This is pulled from Parker Palmer as well, in Let Your Life Speak, where he talks about honoring your created nature, along with its limits and potentials.

3. These are the words of Katie G. Cannon. Words you’d know very well if you’ve read from Bethany Nicole’s amazing Soulwork Newsletter.

4. I will be co-creating something like this at my church. I look forward to sharing insights from that journey here.

5. This worship song (link to Youtube) from Bethel Music called “Sails” by Pat Barrett has been with me in these last few weeks as I have meditated, prayed and journaled on these ideas. Despite my distrust in the source of this music, I know it was Spirit leading me to it because of its words (link to lyrics).

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