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"Do you sing?"


A few nights ago — or mornings, rather — Jason Mraz met me in my subconscious again. Even as my husband spooned me in the stolen moments before the alarm went off, I couldn’t help but savor the interactive screenplay in my head.

In my dream, I was at an outdoor concert, one where the parking lot was a field constrained by woods. It was nearing the end of a clear summer day. Near the woodline, I could feel the cool breath of evening, but still, the air was heavy with the heat and humidity of late July in Pennsylvania.

The concert was nearing an end, and Jason had just “disappeared” from the stage though the show continued; most of the crowd was still at the stage. I, however, was in the parking lot. I had missed the very end of Jason’s set in hopes of catching up with him at the bus. Sure enough, as he sprinted to the bus, somehow without an entourage or gaggle of starstruck fans, I was able to catch him. He had a huge, black afro wig in hand, presumably to disguise himself as he made his great escape. (At this point, we could hear that the crowds were on their way.) I asked if he had a minute before he got on the bus. He obliged, stressing though, that it needed to be quick. I introduced myself as being a huge fan, and thanked him for his influence and inspiration.

He was sweet and thanked me. And then he asked:

“Do you sing?”

I started babbling, “No, I mean, I was in chorus in high school, but not because I was any good, just because they needed people for the ensemble.”

As I did what I do in real life, talking myself in circles, he slipped the hilariously conspicuous “disguise” head piece onto his head.


And right about then, my alarm went off.

I hit snooze and tried to go back to dreamland. Alas, it was gone. All but that line:

“Do you sing?”

That’s really stuck with me. Even as I babbled in my dream, I knew I wasn’t answering the question my subconscious-posing-as-mraz asked.

***

As a kid at Sts. Peter & Paul Catholic school, Mrs. Zana, our music teacher once told the class, “When you sing, it’s like praying twice.” I didn’t know then that she was paraphrasing, St. Augustine: “Qui cantat, bis orat” or”To sing once is to pray twice.” Years and years later, Mraz raised the point again in his “1000 Mother******s.”

The sentiment has stuck with me along with Psalm 100:1: “Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.” Take those along with the image of God as Loving Father, braid those three thoughts, and you have one of one of my deepest “faith roots.” It makes me smile to hear someone at church singing loudly off-key. (Often I’m just hearing myself.) It makes me think of how much I love to hear my children (neither of whom could be mistaken for members of the Von Trapp family) sing with abandon. I think their songs are something like what we give to God, when we sing with our hearts.

But I noticed that I haven’t really been singing lately. I mean, yes, I sing at church, along with the radio, and every word of “We Sing We Dance We Steal Things.” But I haven’t really been singing with intent, with my voice or otherwise. Really, my life has been a lot of humming lately.

I want to change that. I’m just not sure what song to sing.

So now, I ask you:

“Do you sing?”
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The middle: where to start

What if you knew you were immortal … as long as you never fell asleep? What if you knew that the second you hit REM, you would leave your fleshy confines, never to return?

To what lengths would you stay awake? Would you “not go gently into that good night”? Or would you do what you could to tie up loose ends before welcoming the sleep to end all sleep?

At one point in my life, there was no question that I would welcome, not fight Dylan Thomas’ “good night.” But since then, I have celebrated a few more birthdays, married my (somewhat unlikely) soulmate, and been blessed with two amazing children. I’ve managed a handful of creative accomplishments that — noteworthy or not — I am proud of. All of these things are attachments of sorts, “loose ends” I can’t tie up, no matter how much time I might be given.

But still there are days I live for sleep.

I don’t know where I’m going with this.

…

A week ago, my maternal grandfather, Grandpap R. passed away. Prior to his death, he had been in the ICU about 10 days, including a few days of heavy sedation — meaning he was unconscious.

…

As I write this, “Details in the Fabric” is playing.

“Hold your own,
know your name,
and go your own way
everything will be fine…”

…

So I went up to PA this past Wednesday & Thursday for the funeral. As strange as it might sound, it was probably the “happiest” funeral I have ever been to. That’s not to say all eyes were dry. But it was full of laughter as well. It was a family reunion.

God, I hope it’s not our last.

It was wonderful, really. I think 14 of the 16 grandchildren made it in (in addition to all 7 of his children), many of whom I haven’t seen in years. It’s strange and amazing that we’re all part of the same family. Really, in many cases we’re more different than we are the same. But then you notice his jawline, her laugh, the way the three of them stand just like their mother who got it from Grandma. … And somehow we’re all family again.

…

I think this is the first time I’ve really cried yet about this. Not that I’ve been holding back or in or anything. But I’ve been holding up and keeping busy. Not as a defense, but as a side effect of life. Even up there at the funeral, I took our youngest (and only him) since he could fly free on my lap, so I was preoccupied with him, I guess. At the viewing, it was all foreign and strange to me. The body in the casket was a wax man with too much make-up. I had absolutely no emotional attachment to him. But to the right was their wedding picture. And I got choked up over that, but that was it.

Mom pointed out that difference (between his as opposed to my grandmother’s death 18 years ago) is the difference between a full, long life well lived and one cut too short.

…

As a point of public note, I request that no roses or chrysanthemums be included in any arrangements for my funeral when that comes. Wait, no. Stick with the no chrysanthemums (mums are ok, but those big ones, no), but let’s restrict the roses to the pretty, less fragrant mini roses: the smell of roses says funeral to me. I hate it. As soon as I opened the door to the funeral home the first time there, it hit me, like a blast of hot air from inside a car that’s been sitting in the July sun all day.

I prefer lilacs be sent in lieu of roses.

I prefer donations to the pro-life charity of your choice be sent in lieu of flowers in general.

No, I’m not quite dead yet. But we never know when this information could actually be relevant.

…

Ever just feel like screaming out of frustration? I mean, I feel like I’m grinding my gears and spinning my wheels. I feel like there’s so much I’m supposed to do with my life. I feel like there’s something big out there I’m supposed to be a part of. But I don’t know what or where it is. How does one work toward a goal she can’t define?

“Go your own way.”

…which would be …?

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I refuse to choose.

As most of my friends will tell you, I am often indecisive. I prefer not to rock the boat and am usually pretty relaxed and comfortable with just going with the flow. I mean, really, what difference does it make in the grand scheme of things if we have Mexican or Italian for dinner. Really.

I have been known to procrastinate through indecision. I have probably made far more decisions through inaction than action. I’m not proud of that, but that’s a fault of mine that I’ll admit to as well.

But being indecisive is far different than refusing to choose.

Lately, particularly with the election year at hand, this has been weighing heavily on my heart and mind. I had a short conversation with my sister about it recently, and I mentioned it in comments on some other blogs. My issue is this: Why is it a conflict of interests to be in favor of “less government” and humane treatment of animals? Why is it against someone else’s first amendment rights if I express mine by wearing a crucifix on a chain to a public school? Why should I have to choose between being “green” or pro-life?

As I’ve gone into a little bit before, I am Catholic and try to live my life with a Christian worldview. So, that’s where I am coming from, though I have no doubt that this will apply to other worldviews as well.

I try to live by the adage that one should leave things as good as or better than he or she found them. (Granted, the state of my housekeeping rarely reflects that, but I’m working on it.) One way that I’ve been acting on that is by, frankly, doing some of my coworkers’ recycling. It’s kinda gross, but if I see someone’s tossed a pop can in the trash (and it’s still exposed — I’m not dumpster diving yet), I’ll pick it out & toss it in the recycling bin. When we had catering in last week, rather than throwing out all of the “disposable” containers & platters, I brought them home to rinse & freecycle. I’m starting a compost pile at the treeline of our property. And I am really trying to cut down my extended shower time.

… does that make me a tree-hugging hippie? Not really.

In addition to being a traditional employee, I am also a business owner. As such I believe capitalism, in general, is a good thing. Likewise, I disagree that having the government put its fingers in every orifice of our lives is a good thing. For example, I do not thing it’s a good idea to socialize health care. I think that idea about a centralized medical database is something UGLY waiting to happen. (Have you ever been to the DMV? What makes anyone think that any other government run facility will run more smoothly?)

… does that make me corporate America? Hardly.

To carry on the previous example, I believe we need some kind of health care reform. I also believe businesses, big and small, need to take more responsibility for their actions. From simply recycling paper to using less by going “paperless” to using less energy, less water, to encouraging telecommuting when appropriate, etc. Meanwhile, there’s the corporate social responsibilities. Some industries are addressing concerns on their own, without obligation to government; take for instance the diamond industry’s Kimberly Process. The Fair Trade movement, such as with Global Exchange, is addressing this — slowly true, but without the government telling them to. I guess what I’m saying here is that I think we all have an obligation as consumers to express to companies that it’s important to us that they act responsibly. And then put our money where our mouths are.

… I’m working on that.

I don’t agree with the war in Iraq. But I think we have a responsibility to our troops, of course, not to be irresponsible about pulling out. Also, I think we have a responsibility to the citizens there, that we don’t leave them high and dry now that we’ve “given” them democracy a representational government.

…does that mean I’m pro-war? pro-big-military? … or pro-peace?

I’ve seen those bumper stickers that say “Who Would Jesus Bomb?” They make me angry, as if it’s that simple. Do those same people sporting that bumper sticker think we should have just let Hitler run his course? Of course, that’s the extreme, but still, it’s frustrating. And I’m rambling.

I have been doing more of that in this post than I had intended, and it’s gotten kinda long, but I’m still not quite ready to call it quits…

Because I still haven’t gotten into my pro-life feminism (at least not in this post), carnivorously humane treatment of animals, or patriotism for a wonderful nation that needs a lot of work.

But it’s past my bedtime & I have work to do yet, so I’ll shut up for now while hoping that someday there’ll be a presidential candidate I’ll feel truly comfortable voting for.

PS – This is the article that got me riled up earlier today. And this (below) is the video that gave me chills.

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rainbow in the rear view

God's promise behind me
[from my ‘real’ journal]
2/14/2008 1AM

Driving home from work today, there was a little rain. As I drove south on 77, right after the state line, the clouds broke enough for the sun to stream through the west side of the highway. That in and of itself was beautiful.

I was singing along with “No Doubling Back” by Jason Mraz when I happened to literally look back. I saw it first in my side view mirror. I confirmed what I’d seen with a glance in the rear view mirror: a huge, vibrant rainbow met the road behind me.

I smiled, enjoying the beauty & the coincidence — the wonderful interplay of the song, the view, and my introspection.

It’s time for me to move forward, [whether I feel ready or not] knowing I’ve got God’s promise behind me.

* * * * *

I have been meaning to post the above journal entry here since it happened a full week ago, but I haven’t had the time to do it “right.” I know, in my first post this year, I said I wouldn’t let not having a picture hold me back from posting, but it felt really important to me for this one. Even if the picture isn’t that great, I really wanted to at least scan the original entry (which is the text in the image).

This rainbow thing has been on my mind pretty consistently since it happened. I was driving home from work, like I’d said. The sky above was dark with storm clouds, and I’d gone through some rain right after leaving work: big, fat drops — not a downpour, but heavy from black skies. But right about where the highway crosses from North Carolina into South Carolina, the clouds broke to the west — the right side of the highway — and since it was about 5:30 PM, the sun was low in the sky and close to setting. Blinding, yellow sunshine shone in through the passenger side window and cast eerily long shadows of the treeline across the road. It was beautiful.

My mp3 player on shuffle, “No Doubling Back” was playing — I think it started right around when the rain stopped. Even then I didn’t grasp the full “coincidence” of the lyrics, but later I looked them up. Some of the lyrics I found to be more than fitting:

I would like to think that you’d know your way
we have dodged the ropes of rain…

…I wanna stay wet for a little bit longer…

…I know this ain’t the way I planned it
I guess I ain’t the great romantic
and i’m not doubling back now
no doubling back
doubling back now…

…when it rains it’s sure to pour…

While my “issues” aren’t romantically related, the fact is, the rain imagery and “no doubling back” lyric echoed my situation quite well.

Well, I was smiling, wishing my phone was a camera phone, singing along to the refrain (since it was a new-to-me song at that point), when I glanced in the side mirror and saw the rainbow. Then I saw it in the rear view mirror. I don’t know about anyone else, but rainbows always raise my spirits. Part of it, I think, ties to the Biblical symbolism — I mean, Noah’s Ark is one of the first Bible stories kids learn, so it’s deep rooted. (And really, for me it’s a Biblical reference, but the flood thing is such a far-reaching myth, touching so many cultures, I believe it really is part of our collective memory.) Anyhow, the other part of it is the simple fact that they’re beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. A rainbow, for me, is such an awesome “God experience,” when I feel truly connected with God as Creator. It gives me goosebumps.

So with [the symbol of] God’s promise behind me while I sang along “no doubling back now,” I drove home. I know I have to move forward. I can’t stay where I am. And as nervous as I am about the stuff I need to do, I know it will work out — I’ve seen, felt, the promise to prove it.

* * * * *

I saw another rainbow coming home from work today. It was faint, partial, & very high in the sky, but it was there.