“I tell jokes and cut capers about the place and make the monks laugh.
They all say I’m possessed by the devil and insult me. But I say to
myself: It can’t be true; God must like fun and laughter.”
-Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
I gave myself permission, this Summer, to savor the Hell out of it ... Like, really squeeze every last drop of joy out of, even (especially?), the most ordinary moments. At the time I was so benevolently bestowing the privilege upon myself, I couldn't foresee quite how necessary it was going to be. I just knew that my nervous system deserved it, and of all the hits I've taken in the last handful of years, I knew I'd still managed to hang onto my senses of appreciation, and play, and I think that actually leaves a person with quite a lot of room on which to build something good.
Once more, it was a whole season of hurry up & wait ... But really, I should be getting slightly more used to that by now. In this life, it seems rarer, and rarer for any of us to truly be living completely on a timeline of our own creation, or liking - there's always something to answer to, or for that pushes us at least a little off path, but that doesn't mean we have to lose the spring in our step, or stop dancing to our own beat entirely ... Instead, we can let a whole new song emerge.
The early bird gets the woyim!
For me, this Summer has been filled with birdsong start to finish. I remember right around the Spring thaw, the birds outside my bedroom window were absolutely losing it in the pre-dawn hours, like, to the point where I'd go out bundled up in my extremely Muppet-esque bathrobe to make sure a stray cat wasn't hunting them. No predators, just birds. Hopping around, picking through the long grass in the yard next door, singing their little fine feathered asses off. The sight of them enjoying the moment was so precious, and innocent, and free I wanted to cry ... And then they started earlier ... And earlier ... And by the time the opening act was firing up in the 3 o'clock hour, I was like c'mon guys ... Chill! But that's exactly what they were doing. Birds only sing when they know they're safe, and by experiencing their calls, a cascade of healing effects can be triggered within our own systems, quite literally making birdsong natural medicine. Aside from all of the things there is to say on the topic, how marvelous is it that The Universe uses music to remind us that we, too, are safe?
As I type this now, it's Late Summer (I mean, like THE very last minutes of it) and for weeks the young songbirds have been practicing their songs. I knew things had started to sound a bit different, but I only recently learned that around this time of year juvenile birds quietly rehearse imperfect versions of adult songs, much like children learning a new language, and I think my heart nearly melted completely out of my chest. Like, of course they do! Why wouldn't they?? But, I'd just never thought about it before. I never thought of baby birds having to sound-it-out like the rest of us, and I don't know why, but it touched me, and gave me the reassurance to keep going, keep making my own kind of music - creating my own kind of life that feels right, and healthiest for ME. I started this year with so much focus on goal-setting, and learning new methods for achieving what it is I'm trying to do, and it has all been important. I don't regret any of that, but I do think it's important to also not let yourself get swallowed up in someone else's ideas ... You can learn new tricks, and hang onto your most valuable instincts at the same time, and end up creating something unique and special that works for you.
For me this Summer could be summed up most succinctly by our Sacred Lady of the Holler, Dolly Parton:
Find out who you are, and do it on purpose.
xoxo
