POST 23: "You Begin Again"
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“I can do things you cannot, you can do things I cannot; together we can do great things.”
Mother Teresa
Paula Larke, a musician, activist and storyteller, was artist at residence at Riverside Church and helped us out to plan a Mother’s Day service for our community in recovery. Nearly everyone had extremely complicated relationships with their mothers or felt profound guilt as mothers. I would hazard a guess a good many of us would check the “it’s complicated” box when it comes to mom. Anyway, Paula sent this story to share with the community. It’s fairly apocryphal, but highly symbolic and I believe at its essence speaks about our human essence:
“When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child.
They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else. When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child’s song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood the people come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person’s bed, just as they did at their birth and they sing the person to the next life.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it. Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or negative images you hold about yourself. They remember the beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.”
From Living from the Heart by Alan Cohen.
Though this story may be apocryphal, its essence is so true. Everyone has a story, or a song as Alan Cohen puts it, in their soul. It’s a song as unique as our fingerprints. It is how we were made. We just have to be patient enough to listen. I realized this is what I experienced at St. Colman’s. It was what my brother encouraged in me. It is what I felt stir within me when I listened to Barry’s music.
Having the privilege to sit twice a day in a circle and reflect with recovering, struggling addicts began to teach me to fight for your song. We listened as a loving, heroic act. We heard each other into a bit of sanity and wholeness. We were there to pull each other back off the edge. We reminded community members of their song when they forgot. We corrected each other we let the negativity speak.
On the other hand, you could be sliced and diced and served for breakfast if you started to bullshit and, believe me, no one knows bullshit better than the bullshit experts themselves. I learned what courage meant in those groups. I saw the truly miraculous and holy, the stupid, as well as superb manipulation.
I lost my Midwestern guile.
I accepted that people can lie to your face without a twitch. However I also witnessed people face for the first time the dark, terrible things that they carried in their hearts all their lives and cry tears of relief. For ten years, twice a day I listened to people piece together their stories, with tears, with anger and with laughter.
For example, one successful community member recalls the moment he decided to change. He walked into a bagel shop and asked for a donut. The counter help replied, rather curtly, no donuts, only bagels, this is a bagel shop. People all around him began to snicker. Now, this fellow was a petty criminal, used to demanding respect, at least intimidation. He knew how to fly into a rage and provoke a fight. But this time was different. He suddenly realized that he didn’t even know the difference between a bagel and a donut. He realized for the first time in my life that he really didn’t know anything.
He told the group as my former colleague, Christopher Fay, recalls:
“All those years, I was a know-it-all; I was smarter than everybody else. I had all the answers I needed. But in that moment, I faced the truth: I was forty two years old with nothing to show for myself. I mean, I couldn’t even tell the difference between a bagel and a fucking donut! I mean, then and there, I had to be humble. I had to admit, I didn’t know shit. I had to accept that maybe the people who were trying to help me knew more than I did about how to live a successful life. That’s when I decided to make something of the treatment program I was in. I been through treatment before, dozens of times, but that time - I decided to listen. And here I am today.” *
So with that, a couple of fancy degrees and a few analysts, I intensified the process on myself.
It is where I learned to swear so damn well too.
Notes:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/63168-i-can-do-things-you-cannot-you-can-do-things
*excerpt from ”The Difference Between A Bagel and a Donut” written by
Christopher Fay
Executive Director
Homestretch, Inc.
303 South Maple Ave, Suite 400
Falls Church, VA 22046
Give the gift of music to the next generation through donations to:
The Manilow Music Project
8295 South La Cienega Boulevard
Inglewood, CA 90301
info@manilowmusicproject.org
Click here to go to the next post or click here to return to the previous post.
Mother Teresa
Paula Larke, a musician, activist and storyteller, was artist at residence at Riverside Church and helped us out to plan a Mother’s Day service for our community in recovery. Nearly everyone had extremely complicated relationships with their mothers or felt profound guilt as mothers. I would hazard a guess a good many of us would check the “it’s complicated” box when it comes to mom. Anyway, Paula sent this story to share with the community. It’s fairly apocryphal, but highly symbolic and I believe at its essence speaks about our human essence:
“When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child.
They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else. When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child’s song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood the people come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person’s bed, just as they did at their birth and they sing the person to the next life.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it. Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or negative images you hold about yourself. They remember the beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.”
From Living from the Heart by Alan Cohen.
Though this story may be apocryphal, its essence is so true. Everyone has a story, or a song as Alan Cohen puts it, in their soul. It’s a song as unique as our fingerprints. It is how we were made. We just have to be patient enough to listen. I realized this is what I experienced at St. Colman’s. It was what my brother encouraged in me. It is what I felt stir within me when I listened to Barry’s music.
Having the privilege to sit twice a day in a circle and reflect with recovering, struggling addicts began to teach me to fight for your song. We listened as a loving, heroic act. We heard each other into a bit of sanity and wholeness. We were there to pull each other back off the edge. We reminded community members of their song when they forgot. We corrected each other we let the negativity speak.
On the other hand, you could be sliced and diced and served for breakfast if you started to bullshit and, believe me, no one knows bullshit better than the bullshit experts themselves. I learned what courage meant in those groups. I saw the truly miraculous and holy, the stupid, as well as superb manipulation.
I lost my Midwestern guile.
I accepted that people can lie to your face without a twitch. However I also witnessed people face for the first time the dark, terrible things that they carried in their hearts all their lives and cry tears of relief. For ten years, twice a day I listened to people piece together their stories, with tears, with anger and with laughter.
For example, one successful community member recalls the moment he decided to change. He walked into a bagel shop and asked for a donut. The counter help replied, rather curtly, no donuts, only bagels, this is a bagel shop. People all around him began to snicker. Now, this fellow was a petty criminal, used to demanding respect, at least intimidation. He knew how to fly into a rage and provoke a fight. But this time was different. He suddenly realized that he didn’t even know the difference between a bagel and a donut. He realized for the first time in my life that he really didn’t know anything.
He told the group as my former colleague, Christopher Fay, recalls:
“All those years, I was a know-it-all; I was smarter than everybody else. I had all the answers I needed. But in that moment, I faced the truth: I was forty two years old with nothing to show for myself. I mean, I couldn’t even tell the difference between a bagel and a fucking donut! I mean, then and there, I had to be humble. I had to admit, I didn’t know shit. I had to accept that maybe the people who were trying to help me knew more than I did about how to live a successful life. That’s when I decided to make something of the treatment program I was in. I been through treatment before, dozens of times, but that time - I decided to listen. And here I am today.” *
So with that, a couple of fancy degrees and a few analysts, I intensified the process on myself.
It is where I learned to swear so damn well too.
Notes:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/63168-i-can-do-things-you-cannot-you-can-do-things
*excerpt from ”The Difference Between A Bagel and a Donut” written by
Christopher Fay
Executive Director
Homestretch, Inc.
303 South Maple Ave, Suite 400
Falls Church, VA 22046
Give the gift of music to the next generation through donations to:
The Manilow Music Project
8295 South La Cienega Boulevard
Inglewood, CA 90301
info@manilowmusicproject.org
Click here to go to the next post or click here to return to the previous post.