A Gathering of Ancestors

 And so we begin. 100 beautiful souls from five continents gathered down in the valley— Hidden Valley Music Seminars in Carmel Valley, California, to be precise— ready to build our mountain of belonging and beauty, community and connection. 

 

Our opening ceremony begins with who’s here, a song inviting people born in January and each of the succeeding months into the center of the circle to show us who they are through dance, in company with others born the same month. From there, the lyrics invite those to the center according to their Level (I, II or III), the continent they came from (all but Australia and Antarctica), the kind of instrument they play, their age according to decade.  All the time singing, dancing, with teachers playing drums. At the end, the youngest (22) and oldest (79) come forward to ring a small and large gong in a ritual pattern to officially open the course. Pin drop silence as the resonant sounds fill the air and die away.  That’s our nod to the present company, the here and now. 

 

Then comes the invocations to the Ancestors. The Land Acknowledgement to the Ohlone who were the original inhabitants of the land, who never ceded it to the foreign immigrants and still caretake it. The Labor Acknowledgement to the West Africans who worked for hundred years for free in forced labor camps to bring us to the prosperity we enjoy, all without (still!) apology or reparations. Another Labor Acknowledgement to the women who gifted us life through a different kind of physical labor, who worked and still work both unpaid and underpaid, who still carry so much of the emotional labor of child-raising in the family. 

 

Then when the faculty introduced themselves, my colleague James had the idea of each of us acknowledging one important teacher in our life, living or dead, who brought us to the life we lead and have led as teachers ourselves. After we spoke, he invited all to turn to their neighbor and speak a bit about their own teacher to whom they’re indebted. Brilliant idea! The room was now filled with the presence of so many ancestors, near and far, the way it should be. 

 

Finally, James showed slides of three of some six significant Orff Schulwerk teachers who passed away this year. Barbara Grenoble, Mimi Samuelson, Carol Erion, each with some kind of connection to our course and we sang Viva La Musicain their memory. (Privately, I evoked three others who also passed this year— Arvida Steen, Marilyn Davidson and Mary Lott. It has been a year of much loss in the American Orff world.)

 

Finally, I spoke a bit about the other missing group in the room, the one that is actually the main reason we’ve come together— the children. Our descendants. Children who are suffering mightily from fear of their future, fear of the present, from neglect from a culture that cares more about money and guns and test scores than preserving and protecting a world worthy of our children’s promise. They joined us in the room and there we all were together, representatives from the past, present and future, ready to begin two weeks of fun and frivolity that is about as serious as you can get. We closed with the song Gonna Build Me a Mountainand the room was overflowing with Spirit. As the last note died down, I shouted:

 

“Let the wild rumpus start!!!”

 

And so it has.