Jack and I watched an amazing movie documentary, Throw Down Your Heart, of Béla Fleck's journey to Africa: "Throw Down Your Heart” follows American banjo virtuoso Béla Fleck on his journey to Africa to explore the little known African roots of the banjo and record an album. It’s a boundary-breaking musical adventure that celebrates the beauty and complexity of Africa – an Africa that is very different from what is often seen in the media today."
Click here to view the trailer.
What moved me, along with the wondrous music and stories, was the comment by some of the women as they were talking to him as they made supper over an open fire: "We sing in everything we do." The man who was his guide throughout his time in Africa said, "For us, music is everywhere."
At Kansas State University where I served at the Campus Pastor for twelve years, the Peer Minister students and I cooked a weekly supper. Afterwards, we washed dishes by hand and sang songs - and of course we cracked jokes - but we sang often. I think of the times nowadays in which people can come together and just sing songs with harmonies intertwining as an organic, living, breathing dynamic weave of beauty. I mentioned that we had songs for everything as Camp Hitaga. Somehow it seems we've lost something precious, simple and holy - the time spent as communities and families singing (we would sing in the car as we traveled for vacations - now kids watch DVD movies each on their own screens!).
My guess is that the time in which most folks sing together is in worship places. With a significant percentage of our country claiming themselves to be "unchurched," there's probably not a lot of good ole time singing together going on in those homes. Paradoxically, popular music is the lifeblood that sustains most young adults (and I would add most generations of folks have their era's favorite music that shaped their generations). Well, I was moved and mesmerized at the Dave Matthews' Band concerts in which tens of thousands of people sang together. Sure, some of it was inspired and loosened from the larynxes of the crowd by certain elixirs and illicit potions. But there was something of a churchiness about all those people singing together and doing their "parts" in some songs. I guess maybe that's what inspired Martin Luther as he listened to the pub songs and was reputed to have said, "Why should the devil have all the good music?" as he recovered the pub tunes and put new lyrics to them and called them hymns for congregational four-part singing.
But the singing I'm thinking about is the singing that happens outside...out of doors...often around fires.
I've been thinking about this in relationship to my time I'm spending in an independent continuing education graduate study entitled, Creative Arts Therapy. The creative arts therapies include art therapy, dance/movement therapy, drama therapy, music therapy, poetry therapy and psycho/sociodrama. These therapies use arts modalities and creative processes during intentional intervention in therapeutic, rehabilitative, community, or educational settings to foster health, communication, and expression; promote the integration of physical, emotional, cognitive, and social functioning; enhance self-awareness; and facilitate change.
I've been pondering the shift/emphasis on Creation Arts Therapy in which we center our healing in creation and time spent outside in the natural wonder and beauty all around us. Others are thinking about this, too. Another book I'm reading for my time of study is Richard Louv's book, Last Child in the Woods. Richard identified a phenomenon we all knew existed but couldn't quite put our finger on it's name: nature-deficit disorder, the disconnection between children (and I would add a bunch of the grown-ups) and nature.
I'm absolutely certain that most folks would be less cranky, irritable, depressed and anxious if they just got outside more often for regular strolls (as opposed to power-walking or fitness-focused jogging or biking with ipods and the like) and just observed, appreciated and cherished all the aspects of creation all around them.
While I lived in Tampa, I took my confirmation students to city park on Tampa Bay complete with boardwalks through the mangroves. They raced through the park with energy to burn until I sat them down on the boardwalk and said, "If you're really quiet, you'll be able to see what comes out of those mysterious holes in the wet sand." They didn't believe me and thought it was a ploy to get them to shut up, but I insisted that they would be totally amazed.
Staring at the vacant sand, they witnessed the tentative emergence of the fiddler crabs that only come out when the "coast is clear." Silence, expectant waiting and observing were greeted by creatures that these native Floridian teens had only read about in their science books. I employed this metaphor to remind them that sometimes the mysteries of God can only be welcomed by silent, observant waiting. They nodded in complete, experiential agreement.
One summer I was asked to lead a youth group in some outdoor exercises at the Hollis Renewal Center outside of Kansas City. I sent the teenagers to out into the woods to sit next to a favorite tree and "befriend" the tree and sit down by it. Then I instructed them to listen for bird calls and songs and to come back to report on how many birds they could identify. When they returned only one or two could even begin to tell me what birds they had heard. While I was waiting for them I heard crows, blue jays, cardinals, sparrows, and even a hawk. It was sad that these young people had no clue about how certain birds sounded.
These past few days, Jack and I have been transfixed by the tiny hummingbirds that come to the feeder near our dining room window. They seem fearless, though they are so small (I like this about them). But they make a funny little "squirrel-like" sound of annoyance if we're too close to them or disturbing their imbibing in the ruby nectar. Funny little birds and we wouldn't know their ways if we didn't take the time just to sit in the backyard to watch, revel and delight in the tiny but mighty hummers.
So, that's why I'm thinking about singing, bird song and the choruses of angels that keep watch and sing for us. Let's join them. Let's join and band together this summer to sing - outside and to behold the healing wonder of nature.
Blessed be!
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