I’ve been away from writing for a week or so but not out of touch with friends and loved ones.  Nearly every person in my circle is dealing with choices and challenges, attempting to stay present to the moment with all its demands.  Yesterday I heard a lovely message about our human need for community, a place where we are accepted and loved and, thus, we become more fully who we can be.  A loving community never loses its importance and its power to shape us, no matter what our age or circumstances.  The story of one such community is what I am recalling as I’ve reconnected with Lynn, the beautiful spirit at the center of it.   

It was the late 1970’s.  When my youngest child started school, I was re-entering the working world outside of home.  I taught pre-school with Lynn, an exceptionally wise and kind young woman, whose children were just a little bit older than mine.  After all the pre-schoolers arrived, we began each morning together by sitting on the rug in a circle for a check-in, a game, a song and to plan for the day.  One favorite activity was singing an “honoring” song.  Lynn or I began by placing a ball of yarn on the floor in front of us.  Holding on to the end of the yarn, we rolled the ball to a child across the circle.  That child would pick up and hold the ball while we all sang to that child these words:

             Brenda with her blue eyes and blonde hair, too.
             Tell me do you love her? Yes I do!

Then Brenda would hold on to a section of yarn and roll the ball across the floor to another child.  Again we would sing to him or her:

             Jimmy with his brown eyes and brown hair, too.
             Tell me do you love him? Yes, I do!

And so it would go until each child - including Lynn and me - received the yarn, and was honored with song.  As the ball of yarn rolled from child to child and grew smaller, the web of yarn that connected us was created and intertwined.  I witnessed the shyness and the pride on the face of each child as the yarn ball came to them and we sang their name and honored them by noticing the color of their sparkling eyes and beautiful hair.  I felt the same shyness mixed with an awareness that this circle of friends was telling me that I mattered!  Often throughout the day, I would hear one or another child humming the song, remembering the power of those sacred moments.

And so it is that we weave this web of life.  We carry our own ball of loving attention and extend it to those we encounter every day of our lives.  Though a meeting of another may last only a few seconds or may extend over a lifetime, the loving attention that we give and receive strengthens who we are.  We weave the web that grows in size and capacity to sustain all, to connect us to every living being.  And the ball of loving attention never runs out!  There is forever enough to include every one of us, to weave us together into one family of loving attention, where we may be truly seen and honored for who we are.

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One of my Christmas gifts was a new CD. “Life” just released by Meinhardt Merry, a local duo, features all original songs except for Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi.” If you know that song, you can imagine the mellow mood that Robin and Kent create with their “from the heart, tell the truth” lyrics, rich harmonies, acoustic guitar and sweet ballad style melodies. I've listened to the CD at least a kajillion times so I can sing along now whether in tune or not!

"Going back" is the title of one of the songs. Robin’s verses make it sound easy as she decides to just do it and hope for the best.  Now and then we may consider going back to familiar places, to an earlier time, a reunion with family or friends, to fondly remembered traditions or to any number of experiences from the past.   But what if it’s not so easy to just do it and hope? What if it’s not the way we remember it:? What if time has changed things? What if my memory is just that – a portrait set apart in a unique frame that can’t be replicated? Robin’s closing line suggests this might be so: “hope the early frost didn't hurt the bloom.” There is some trepidation along with curiosity and anticipation.  Especially if going back is to revisit a person, an event, or place that holds some regrets or needs some repairs. 

Remembering is a strange talent. Science tells us that memory is stored not just in our minds but in every cell of our bodies.  No wonder that a particular song or aroma or photograph, or even thinking of an experience or place or person can elicit physical reactions; can make us feel as if we are actually reliving something now. Lots of receptors respond simultaneously. Over time our body, mind and spirit collaborate to hold on to good experiences and to resolve the pain and grief of others, allowing them to slip away, perhaps partially healed but not completely gone. The good times and the hard times fade and lose their crisp edges, as if painted in muted pastels. Both the good times and the hard times weave together to become a colorful tapestry or a crazy quilt.  Maybe in time we can look fondly on the tapestry or wrap the crazy quilt around ourselves for comfort. 

The good times and the hard times teach us so many things.  They bring the realization that life is comprised of both sides, the dark and the light, the fullness and the fallow, the joy and the pain, the yin and the yang.  Going back, in actuality or in memory alone, moves us ahead into creating new experiences that will themselves become part of the tapestry. 

May the sweetness and the bitter blend together for you in this new year to create a peacefulness, a compassionate solace, a welcome returning and a gentle future.