Positive Humanities, Revelations and Love

Bauso, O. (2018). Rooftop Dance. photograph, Unsplash website. 

When writing the compendium Character Strengths and Virtues, Professors Christopher Peterson and Martin Seligman turned to the Humanities to seek the universal traits that humanity considers the universal keys for flourishing. Cross-cultural strength-spotting in art, literature, religion, and history led to the discovery of the 24 strengths and virtues that became the basis of  the empirical VIA Strengths survey. The University of Pennsylvania’s Master of Applied Positive Psychology (MAPP) professors turned towards the humanities to identify the very virtues we were to look for in ourselves. Is it surprising, then, that our discipline is sending us back out to the humanities to look for interventions to help us flourish? I think not. In my opinion, the new field of Positive Humanities is closing a circle. 

Oscar & Abuela and Levi & Sabta

I put my MAPP degree into practice as a learning specialist and educational coach in New York City. This April, my student Levi, a high school junior, read the Pulitzer Prize winning book The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz in his English class (Note: The student’s name and identifying details have been altered for confidentiality). The novel, set in New Jersey and the Dominican Republic, follows the story of Oscar de León, a Dominican-American teenager. Levi’s final assignment on the novel was a paper that consisted of three parts: 1. A passage analysis of a scene in the book, 2. A section that connected the story to Levi's lived experience, and 3. A final reflection on why literature is important. 

Levi was excited about the assignment because he enjoyed reading the novel. Like Oscar, Levi feels he lives with a dual identity. His father is American, and his mother grew up in Israel. Levi spends every summer in Israel with his extended maternal family. 

For the passage analysis, Levi found a scene in Diaz’s novel where Oscar goes to visit his Dominican family. During the visit, Diaz adeptly highlights the tensions Oscar feels between his “American” and “Dominican” identities. In Diaz’s book, Oscar’s Dominican cousins are sometimes “confused” by his choice of “American” activities. Unlike Oscar, Levi explained how he is close to his Israeli cousins. In part, Levi credits this to his willingness to put aside “American” pursuits when visiting his Israeli family. 

Oscar’s abuela is different from his cousins. She accepts and defends Oscar’s differences. Writing about his own experience, Levi identified how his grandmother, Sabta, was crucial to his assimilation by teaching him bridge, the card game his family plays constantly and competitively every summer. Since Sabta was responsible for helping Levi feel embraced by his Israeli family, the comparison offered a contrast between Levi’s lived experience and Oscar’s fictional one. 

Diaz also provides two gem-like descriptions of interactions between Oscar and his grandmother in the passage. Diaz writes that sometimes at the end of a summer’s day, Oscar would, “sit out in front of the house with his abuela and watch the street scene” (Diaz, 31). These plain words were easily and powerfully recognizable for Levi, and they provided textual evidence he incorporated into his paper to explain the similarity in the relationships both Levi and Oscar have with their grandmothers. Wrapping up Oscar’s summer, Diaz writes that Oscar’s “abuela placed her hand on his head in blessing... Know that in this world there’s somebody who will always love you” (Diaz, 31). Levi did not include the second quote about abuela’s love of Oscar. Instead, it was clear from what Levi wrote that he is already confident of his Sabta’s blessing and knows she will always love him. 

Technically the paper was for Levi’s benefit, but it taught me something too. My “go-to” explanation when students ask (or whine), “Why do we have to read?” and especially “Why do we have to read fiction?” is: Reading teaches us empathy for others' experiences. Levi, however, drew a different conclusion from his exploration of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. In finding a moment when he could identify with the protagonist, Levi learned something about himself. It’s an accurate and appropriate conclusion, but I would go further. By reading the novel, Levi thought about and even had a chance to savor an important relationship in his life. He stopped to notice how his grandmother’s love helps him to flourish. I was glad Levi could do this, because I hold fast to memories of my own grandmother. 

My Granny and Positive Humanities

My grandmother, Myra Demichik Levy, University of Pennsylvania C’42, taught me about positive humanities long before they were a topic in positive psychology. Myra would be thrilled with the conclusion Levi reached in his paper, but her lesson to me about the humanities is closer to (and far more sophisticated than) my “books teach empathy” theory. She believed that art and culture teaches us not just about our own humanity, but also about humanity writ large. 

My grandmother loved all things cultural. An avid reader, she loved theater, film, and visual art. In the early 1990s, when I was studying art history in college, Granny sent me newspaper clippings about Frida Kahlo. She was proud to know about this Mexican woman artist, long before Julie Taymor’s 2002 movie "Frida" and the subsequent “Fridamania.” For the remaining years of my grandmother’s life, Frida Kahlo was often a topic of conversation between us. Frida’s talent, her art, and her humanity were, in my grandmother’s opinion, not only worth understanding, but also worthy of celebration. 

Along with her passion for all forms of culture, my grandmother was a tremendous fan of dance, both ballet and modern. In college, she took dance classes. In her adulthood, she would travel to the Jacob’s Pillow summer dance festival to see new companies and ballets. An active woman (she swam daily), my grandmother recognized that dance and movement could also convey deeply powerful stories, and she sought them out. While Frida Kahlo is one lesson in my positive humanities education with my grandmother, the capstone is the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre (AAADT). 

Revelations and Positive Humanities

The winter I was six, my grandparents traveled from Pennsylvania to New York City to take me to The Nutcracker, the kid-friendly ballet classic. When the fairy story of The Nutcracker did not captivate me, a decision was made. Instead of returning to Lincoln Center and The Nutcracker the following year, we would do something different. We would go see the Alvin Ailey Dance Company perform Revelations instead. 

Immediately, I was hooked. My grandmother’s passion became my own, and now I seek out dance in many forms. When I visit the Ailey company, it is something extra special. Over the years I’ve developed a fluency in the company’s ballets and dancers. Judith Jamison, the second artistic director of the company, was the muse for the magnificent ballet Cry. I witnessed 76-year-old Dudley Williams (here performing “A Song for You”)  dance the “I Wanna Be Ready” section of Revelations the night he retired from the company. I have opinions about which company members soar in certain pieces, and which choreographers carry forward Mr. Ailey’s legacy with greatest fidelity for new audiences.

Revelations is always a continued revelation. Choreographed by Alvin Ailey in 1959, Revelations is an internationally recognized cultural icon of both the American civil rights movement and the Black American experience. After that first visit, Christmas-time became synonymous with a chance to experience a story about freedom from bondage, baptismal joy, and church celebration -- a tale of redemption.

Every performance of Revelations is something new. I think about it this way: The ballet is “Mr. Ailey’s.” It’s his story, his framework, his narrative. Set to spirituals and gospel music, the music is immersive, it calls me in, gives me permission to enter a sacred space. The dancers are the energetic spark that bring the dance to life, renewed on each viewing. Their unique grace and personal interpretations bring nuance and new feeling each time it's performed. 

Revelations has schooled me over the years. My annual pilgrimage has expanded my thinking over the course of my lifetime. What I understood about Revelations at 8 or 18 is different from what I understand now, having taught American History and Toni Morrison novels to a rainbow of students, some from great wealth, others on scholarships, at New York private schools. It has forced me to question what I’ve assumed and what I know. It has provoked me to feel: profound sorrow, immense joy, and boundless gratitude to be an audience member at such stellar performances. 

I walk a fine line saying Revelations is part of my family story. Especially in this political climate, I take care to acknowledge that other people hold title to Revelations more far more firmly and intensely than I do; it is a remarkable privilege to consider it part of my “family story” and I am careful not to claim it as “family history.” Anyone who has ever danced the piece knows it far more intimately, as part of the “Ailey” family. I imagine that folks who see their ancestors in the work find different, deeper meanings than I can fathom. 

Revelations is a prime example of the liberation positive humanities can provide. Each performance has only a brief, wondrous life. When the curtain rises, the diasporic audience goes on a profound journey. When the curtain falls and the house lights come up, people continue to sway side to side and hum the last gospel: “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham.” Everyone leaves the auditorium on a cathartic high. In the language of Bryant and Veroff, we have savored together. Personally we have basked and luxuriated in the pleasure of the dance. Collectively, we have marveled at the spectacle that unfolded before our eyes and we give thanks to the artists and their manifold talents for the gift we have beheld.

Positive Humanities and Strengths: Full Circle

Just as the Humanities initially helped to identify and define and VIA strengths and virtues, we can return to the Humanities to help us exercise, develop, and honor those strengths and virtues in ourselves, thus bringing the process full circle. For instance, I go to the ballet to exercise my appreciation of beauty and curiosity.  I am enriched by zesty, authentic performances that buoy my open-mindedness and optimism.  I celebrate Levi’s self-regulation when he makes it through all of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao without complaint, and I delight when, at the end of writing his paper, he exclaimed proudly, “I thought each English paper I wrote this year was my favorite. Then I wrote the next one and I liked it even better!” There is no greater affirmation of a student who has learned to love learning. 

In his book Spiritual Evolution, research psychiatrist and Harvard and MAPP professor George Valliant looks at both the neuroscience and the emotionality that fuels human spirituality -- separate from organized religion. Recognizing that sometimes reaching the spiritual is (biologically) beyond words, Valliant explains that cross-cultural studies of the humanities, paired with neuroscience “offer[s] hope that our brains are constructed for loving cultural evolution” and spirituality (Valliant, 2008).  The positive emotions Valliant cites as the keys to this spirituality overlap with the strengths of humanity and transcendence. 

I am firmly of the opinion that without the cultivation of love, compassion, and social intelligence, we run the risk of falling short of finding the beauty, optimism, and spirituality in positive humanities. Our ability to turn the humanities into effective positive interventions requires our faith in Professor Peterson’s adage “other people matter.” While certainly it is not an absolute requirement, having elders who provide unconditional love, and the grace and guidance of wisdom, helps cultivate an individual’s ability to seek out and savor not just the sad, mad, or scary, but also the immense multitude of positive lessons held within the humanities.

Grandmothers and Positive Humanities

Levi found Diaz’s clue in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Oscar’s grandmother, like Levi’s, helps him discover his own gifts. Levi’s loving grandmother has given her grandson the ability to uncover his own and others’ strengths through the powers of stories. I have discovered the profundity of what my grandmother revealed to me over the course of a lifetime. Her love, and its lessons of how to savor and celebrate opportunities to spot strengths in the humanities, is perhaps among the most beneficial legacies I’ve inherited from her.

Finally, it all comes together each Christmas-time, cozy in my seat at City Center surrounded by strangers who find positive humanity with me in less than an hour.  Every version of Revelations provides viewers with unique exoduses and salvations of their own. For me, each iteration of Revelations I am blessed to encounter reminds me of the strengths of humanity my beloved grandmother bequeathed to me. In those moments, she is there next to me, her love abundant.

References

Bryant, Fred B., and Joseph Veroff. (2007) Savoring: A New Model of Positive Experience. L. Erlbaum.

Diaz, J. (2008). The brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao. Riverhead Books. 

Lincoln Center Videos. (2020). Revelations - Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. YouTube. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDXerubF4I4&t=1758s. 

Vaillant, G. E. (2008). Spiritual evolution: a scientific defense of faith. Broadway Books. 

Aren Cohen Gustavus MAPP '07, is a learning specialist and educational consultant in New York City. In her practice www.StrengthsforStudents.com, she uses positive psychology and proven educational philosophy to work with academically, motivationally and emotionally challenged students, teaching them how to use their strengths to change academic challenges into educational triumphs.