I took formal leave from work at midday today to bear witness to those who rearranged the rest of their lives to speak to their elected officials and others about their convictions in this democracy. I wanted to let them know how much I appreciate their efforts.
Yesterday morning, on the listserv for the Friends Meeting of Washington, someone shared a link to the original recording of Arlo Guthrie singing “Alice’s Restaurant” as part of an email about Thanksgiving festivities. Usually, I scan listserv emails quickly and delete, especially when they relate to events that I am unable to attend. I saved this one for later, though. I’d woken up from some anguished dreams that were hard to shake, and on being reminded of it, I was sure that when I could make the time, listening all the way through Alice’s Restaurant (it’s long) would cheer me up.
This morning I did indeed listen, and remembered why we (at least those of us who attended Quaker Youth Camp in the early 1970s) memorized most of Alice’s Restaurant. It spoke to us and inspired us and invited us to feel that we were not alone in thinking that things could and should be more gracious and peaceful.
And the refrain is catchy and easy to sing. This morning, at the end, when Arlo invites the audience (the 1967 album version was a “live” recording), I started singing along just for the delight of it, which led me to think about the power of mantra.
Chanting or silently repeating mantra is one of the key yoga practices. The purpose, roughly, of mantra is to replace one set of thoughts with another. Repeating even just “om,” the simplest mantra, over and over again is meant to shift you from whatever mind state you might have been in (at least to the extent that you are having repeating troubling thought patterns) and into or towards a more beneficent state. In my own years of practice, I have found much power in practicing Sanskrit mantras, but many of the songs we have been singing for years, especially those that we associate with ritual can serve similar purposes.
If you’re so moved and feeling that you’re having thoughts around this Thanksgiving holiday that you’d rather replace with more cheerful ones, invite the power of mantra and perhaps sing, along with Arlo for the refrain in Alice’s Restaurant.
Oh yes. Happy Thanksgiving.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
When we were little kids, my mother told us that feathers we found were messages from birds. When we found a particularly pretty feather, we would pick it up and give it to my mother who would then read the message to us.
I will be interested to learn her reaction to this “painting” by a bird.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
When I walked past the Capitol sometime after 7, the light in the cupola showing that Congress was still in session was blazing brightly, making my 10 and a half hour day seem short. I returned to my desk after the week in Miami to several dozen emails. By the time it was midday, an new meeting was scheduled for tomorrow that had not been in the emails or existing calendar, my catching up was interrupted by the need to give background to a reporter, and I was asked to chair a meeting tomorrow that I usually just attend. None of this felt stressful, but it did mean that to get enough done to handle my work responsibly and also get a good night’s rest, I could not leave in time for the two-hour Monday night class at Willow Street.
It seems perhaps not quite right that going out of town to study makes it harder to study with and support my local teachers, whom I love and respect. I think they understand, though, when I have been to study with our mutual teacher and bring back to share the energy of our wider community.
And now for a deep, quieting practice and my evening meditation before bathing and bed. It has been a long day.
When I go back to work tomorrow, people will ask me whether I did anything “fun” over the Labor Day Weekend, just as before the weekend I was asked it I had anything “fun” planned. At recent gatherings where I have bumped into people I haven’t seen in a while, all the questions have been about whether I did anything exciting this summer. I have been pondering these questions and what they say about how we structure our lives. For me, the seasons change based on what I cook and eat, how I dress, and to some degree, when I sleep (more at night when it is cold and dark; more afternoon naps when it is overly hot and bright), but I both work and take breaks throughout the year, so summer did not bring anything more or less exciting than usual.
I am acutely aware that part of the reason I have the luxury to live in accordance with the seasons is that I am not on a school schedule, and I have a job that allows me a little flexibility in terms on when to take breaks and when I come and go on any given day. I also realize that I have blurred the difference between work and “fun.” I have had a most enjoyable Labor Day weekend, but some would think much of it has been work: I taught two classes; I gardened; I cooked; I’ve done some housecleaning; I am writing this blog entry, etc. As I took pleasure in all of these activities, I think of it as having had fun, even though everything I did was something someone could have been doing as “work.” I think that when we take pleasure in our work, we are less in need of grasping at “fun” and can find more joy in the leisure activities that are more usually labeled as “fun.”
I hope whatever you have been doing, whether working or playing, you are enjoying the day, and can take a few moments to reflect on those who fought long and hard for ordinary workers to be able to have the time to play in between working.
