Super Soul Sunday
Sundays at 11 a.m. ET/PT
Posted: Mon 05/20/2013 12:00 AM
This Sunday, join Oprah and three dynamic thought leaders for the first in a special series of "Super Soul Sunday" episodes we're calling The Bigger Picture, a panel discussion about today's top global headlines, bringing unique and thoughtful perspectives to world news topics ranging from prescription drugs to terrorism, gun violence and our fascination with celebrity culture.
Tune in Sunday, May 26, at 11 a.m. ET/PT on OWN, or join our worlwide simulcast on Oprah.com, Facebook.com/owntv or Facebook.com/supersoulsunday.
Posted: Thu 05/16/2013 01:33 PM
The older Dr. Maya Angelou gets, the more grateful she says she is. Find out what she's learned about aging brilliantly in this sneak peek of Sunday's conversation.
Tune in at 11 a.m. ET PT on OWN or join our worldwide simulcast on Oprah.com, Facebook.com/owntv and Facebook.com/supersoulsunday.
Posted: Thu 05/16/2013 12:00 AM
Dr. Maya Angelou says it is her intention to write poetry and prose that "slide right through the brain and goes straight to the heart." She's poured her soul into more than 30 books that have touched countless hearts and minds all over the world.
"We survive in exact relationship to the dedication of our poets," wrote Dr. Maya Angelou in I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Now, the author and teacher is sharing her thoughts on how to write—and how to live. Listen to her recite her poem, "Phenomenal Woman", by clicking on the video above and read on to learn more about her writing process.
"Good morning," she says, her voice like black coffee with a splash of bourbon. Even over the phone, you can hear her smile.
"Now, tell me what am I doing?"
"We'd like to ask you how to write a poem."
"Like a pianist runs her fingers over the keys, I'll search my mind for what to say. Now, the poem may want you to write it. And then sometimes you see a situation and think, "I'd like to write about that." Those are two different ways of being approached by a poem, or approaching a poem.
"Years ago I saw some children jumping hopscotch in Harlem. And then later, I was in Stockholm taking a course in cinematography, and I saw some Swedish children skipping hopscotch—I think it's called "hoppa hage" there. And I thought, "Hmmm, those kids at home, they have a little more rhythm and they think different thoughts." So I went back to watch the children in Harlem to get their rhythm, and then I began to write this poem:
Harlem HopscotchOne foot down, then hop! It's hot.
Good things for the ones that's got.
Another jump, now to the left.
Everybody for hisself.
In the air, now both feet down.
Since you black, don't stick around.
Food is gone, the rent is due,
Curse and cry and then jump two.
All the people out of work,
Hold for three, then twist and jerk.
Cross the line, they count you out.
That's what hopping's all about.
Both feet flat, the game is done.
They think I lost. I think I won.
Next: Dr. Angelou answers questions about her process >>
Poems Dr. Angelou has written for Oprah:
Posted: Wed 05/15/2013 12:00 AM
There's one key reason Oprah calls author and poet Dr. Maya Angelou the quintessential teacher: "She embodies living life to the fullest." Watch and be inspired to start living a more present life.
Watch part 2 of Oprah's conversation with Dr. Maya Angelou this Sunday at 11 a.m. ET PT on OWN or join our worldwide simulcast on Oprah.com, Facebook.com/owntv and Facebook.com/supersoulsunday.
Posted: Tue 05/14/2013 12:00 AM
In December 2000, a timeless conversation between Dr. Maya Angelou and Oprah ran in O, the Oprah Magazine. Read on as the woman Oprah calls mentor-mother-sister-friend offers wise words about the roots of confidence, the trouble with modesty and how to do the impossible.
Then, tune in Sunday at 11 a.m. ET/PT to watch the second part of "Super Soul Sunday" with Dr. Maya Angelou. Tune in on OWN, or join our worldwide simulcast at Oprah.com, Facebook.com/owntv or Facebook.com/supersoulsunday.
Since the moment I opened I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings , I've felt deeply connected to Maya Angelou. With each page, her life seemed to mirror mine: In her early years she was raised by her grandmother in the South; as a young girl she was raped; and, like me, she grew up reciting what the church folks called little pieces—a few lines from the Bible that were usually delivered amid shouts and amens from the women fanning themselves in the front pews. Meeting Maya on those pages was like meeting myself in full. For the first time, as a young black girl, my experience was validated.
And it still is, only now I sit at Maya's feet, beside her fireplace, hardly believing that, years after reading Caged Bird , she is my mentor and close friend. When we met in Baltimore more than 20 years ago, our bond was immediate. We talked as if we had known each other our entire lives; and throughout my twenties and in the years beyond, Maya brought clarity to my life lessons. Now we have what I call a mother-sister-friend relationship. She's the woman who can share my triumphs, chide me with hard truth and soothe me with words of comfort when I call her in my deepest pain.
She speaks of what she knows. Born in St. Louis in 1928, Maya moved to rural Stamps, Arkansas, to be with her grandmother after her parents split. When she went back to St. Louis in the mid-1930s, her mother's boyfriend stole her virginity. In the aftermath of that trauma, 8-year-old Maya became mute and rarely opened her mouth to speak for several years. At 17 she had her only child, Guy. A few years later, when her grandmother died, the grief sent her reeling. It was then that she gave herself what one might call a Maya manifest: She would live—fully.
So she did. She became a celebrated calypso singer and dancer in a San Francisco cabaret. In the late 1950s she moved to New York and took part in the Harlem Writers Guild and befriended literary greats such as James Baldwin, who later encouraged her to tell her story in Caged Bird . In the years that followed, her renewed zeal for life would take her and Guy to many countries throughout the world. In 1961 she moved to Cairo, where she worked at the Arab Observer , and a few years later she went to Ghana to teach at the University of Ghana's School of Music and Drama. As a result of her travels, she became fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic and Fanti, a West African language.
Today Maya is a kind of quintessential Everywoman: essayist, entertainer, activist, poet, professor, film director and mother-and she recently guest conducted the Boston Pops simply because she felt like it. She has written more than 20 books, and she once had three titles— Caged Bird , The Heart of a Woman and Even the Stars Looked Lonesome —on The New York Times best-seller list simultaneously for six consecutive weeks. In 1993 she became the first poet since Robert Frost in 1961 to write and recite a poem at a presidential inaugural ceremony—a performance for which she won a Grammy for Best Non-Musical Album. She is a Tony-nominated actress who has appeared in such productions as Look Away (1973) and Roots , a 1977 miniseries; and she made her feature-film directing debut with the 1998 Showtime movie Down in the Delta . All that, and she cooks like a champion: She prepares the kind of food that makes you want to take a bite and tell about it.
At Maya's home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, we greet each other with hugs, grins and our favorite exchange: "Hey, you girl!" At 72 Maya exudes confidence and extraordinary intelligence—and her wit is as acute as her wisdom.
I remind her of the time a few years ago when someone in her home told a derogatory joke and she doled out what I call a skinning—the sharp words of correction she will give anyone who demeans her or others while in her presence. Yet all of Maya's friends know that beneath such chastisement is a layer of kindness and generosity you don't often find in people in these times. It is here, in Maya's home, that I feel as comfortable as I do in my own—at the table where we always flop down and catch up, in the sculpture garden in her backyard, in the kitchen where the sweet smell of pumpkin soup wafts through the air. When I am with Maya, unimportant matters melt away—her presence feels like a warm bath after an exhausting day. In our hours together, we can set aside all pretensions and just be: two women barefoot in a living room, sharing the most intimate parts of our lives.
Start reading Oprah's interview with Maya Angelou >>
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