The grace of today will not fit into five bullet points.
Six days ago I sat in a cafe across from E, a woman who had been reading my blog for a year and a half. Coincidentally, she used to host a women’s ritual group that was attended by Sheila, the current occupant of the teacher seat at my Wednesday meditation group. Sun was streaming through the windows of the cafe as we ate our soup.
E mentioned that on Friday, she was going to a potluck in someone’s home in Ann Arbor, a support circle for women on the spiritual path. She invited me to come along.
Ann Arbor. I’ve been wanting to go to Ann Arbor since moving to Windsor. Sylvain suggests day trips and weekend trips to places that all sound just lovely, but I keep coming back to “can we go to Ann Arbor?”
When I first moved here and was struggling with finding ways to meet people…people with whom I might have anything in common, I Googled “Sacred Harp” to see if there might be a Shape Note Singing anywhere around here. I found out there is one on the second Sunday of each month in Ann Arbor. I joined the mailing list.
Once a month like clockwork I get the emailed announcement of the upcoming singing. That’s what we call it…a Singing. Every month I tease myself with a little fantasy of venturing out on my own in my little VW one Sunday to find the Singing. But every Sunday the anxiety of striking out on my own just slightly outweighs my yearning to do it. Lurk, lurk, lurk.
So when E invited me on the hour drive to L’s house, I was thrilled and grateful on many levels. Finding out how to get to Ann Arbor would be icing on the cake.
During the drive, I told E about Shape Note Singing. She knows the city well and so asked me where they hold these singings. I could not think of the name of the place.
A small group of beautiful women broke bread together. We gathered after the meal in a circle in the living room and opened our hearts to each other. There is a feeling of homecoming and complete easiness you get when every single person in a room is willing to be authentic, willing to share pain and joy, silliness and embarrassment, is willing to cry and is ready to give a long, loving hug.
During the meal I heard the name of the place. “That’s it! The Ark. That’s the name I couldn’t think of earlier,” I said.
“What place?”
“I was telling E that there are Shape Note Singings held at this place called the Ark.”
They go. They know. Our host’s husband sings Sacred Harp. She sometimes goes, too.
No.
Yes.
No way.
Yes, way.
Do you know the percentage of people who have even heard of Sacred Harp, much less are periodic attendees of singings? It’s like running into a fellow descendant of the fourth moon of the sixth planet of a star in the next galaxy.
Now the other women were curious. What is it? I tried explaining about the hollow square, the feeling of being in the middle of a pipe organ, how the singers almost shout instead of singing, how it’s completely democratic and anyone can join in even if her voice is frail and scratchy and off key. No matter! It’s not done for performance, it is done for the soul.
And it’s been known to bring grown men to tears. Even though the lyrics are Christian, like hymns or spirituals, you’ll see atheists and non-Christians moved just the same.
I tried explaining about the ancient scales that come out of people when they sing. People don’t sing exactly what is on the page. These ancient Dorian scales just rise up out of the group on their own somehow.
========
You never know.
You never know what the smallest gesture can spawn…like the fluttering of the wings of a butterfly halfway around the world. One moment’s decision to delurk. A gesture.
This is what I am learning (re-learning? only for about the thousandth time)…and in spite of Annie’s blessedly patient illustrations: you only need to worry about the next little yes. Universe can take care of the rest.
And what G taught me tonight? You can spend five years in a depression so dark that it comes down to either suicide or having yourself committed, and Grace can come down on you like a bolt, leaving you in a state of bliss that has not lifted for two solid years.
And what T showed me tonight? That we can talk about social anxiety, baring our vulnerability and admitting to this embarrassing handicap.
And what I’m learning from E? The magic in surrender.
Amen.
