The Party's Over

Woke up yesterday thinking, “It’s all over but the shoutin’!” And this morning, it’s done. Our closing yesterday was, as predicted, a mixture of exuberant shouts, tender whispers, a waterworks of salty tears and the bittersweet farewells as we go separate ways. The trembling testimonies around the circle of the 27 beautiful souls in my class rightfully proud of graduating after the long journey, but also aware that walking through that singing tunnel of accomplishment with an Orff certificate in hand is only the beginning of the next steps on the path. As we passed the small ringing bowl around the circle, I asked them to share one takeaway about a piece we did that they would like to try and a pedagogical principle they will try to remember, but it quickly became obvious is that they needed to thank each other for the opening our collective love and support allowed, both the pain and beauty of all those exiled parts of themselves society demanded they put away slowly come out of hiding, with renewed confidence and joy and not only walking with them again, but dancing. Yes indeed. 

 

And all of this in full view of the whole community in their sharing performance the night before, rocking the house with their New Orleans street parade feeling in Humpty Dump, bringing the room to pin-drop silence as we accompanied our Iranian student singing and playing his frame drum, lifting off again with a joyful rendition of Perdido,  the jazz spirit finding a voice on the Orff instruments. Alongside beautiful Renaissance recorder consort music and a slowly and steadily crafted movement piece exploring the idea of resonance. Glory everywhere we turned.

 

After their circle of testimony came the graduation where I called each up one by one to receive their diploma and gave myself the task of trying to capture an essential quality of each unique person in a one-minute talk. And I did. As my vision grows clearer about who we are and who we’ve been and who we’re meant to be, I can see into each person with those special glasses, helped enormously by the 20 or so classes where the singing, dancing, playing, reflecting gives them the chance to show themselves. And almost without exception they do. Once people feel safe to show what everyone else wants them to hide, in company with seekers looking for something beyond the accepted narrowing of our magnificence, my experience is that they indeed show it and everyone is refreshed. 

 

And as one student testified, the world is so much more interesting and beautiful and connected than she thought, a revelation inspired by singing the haunting melodies from the Ukraine, Sweden, Azerbhaijan and China, playing the exuberant music of Ghana, Uganda, Zimbabwe and Jamaica, dancing through bamboo poles in the Philippines and Finland, journeying a thousand years from Gregorian Chant to the blues and beyond. All those outer manifestations of our diversity awakening our inner festival of souls, each invited to the party.

 

But now “the party’s over, it’s time to call it a day,” time to go back to our homes and loved ones and the work that awaits us as we prepare to share the joy with the children most of us will teach. But for some, a few last breaths of summer before school starts and for me that means the annual reunion with Lake Michigan and the ritual time with my family riding bikes on “rails to trails,” scrambling up sand dunes, paddling canoes, going to the Drive-In, walking the beach looking for Petoskey stones, cooking and of course, games, games and yet more games. To quote Frank Capra:

 

“It’s a wonderful life.”