It's New Year's Eve. As I referenced in a recent post (the Spalding Gray quote), it's almost impossible to have a good time on New Year's Eve due to the pressure, which is even worse than Christmas. I have a good time on New Year's Eve by removing all pressure, and starting with zero. Treat it like any other "hanging out with the friends/house" night, except perhaps I'll put on some nicer clothes. Drink some champagne at midnight (with or without grapefruit juice, depending). I believe we have a new cheese ball. Probably play some uke tunes later for the group. And that's it - nothing more is needed to make it a nice celebration, because so much of my normal slant is towards a celebratory way of life.
Yesterday was Singing For Your Life, the annual 12-hour circlesong, led by (mostly) the members of SoVoSo. I think we had about 300 - 400 people yesterday, and it was once again a success. I was there from about 10am until almost 1am. A long day. I'm (nominally) part of the group that makes it happen, so I was one of the first ones in and the last ones out.
I've talked before about some of the qualities of this event (see the post last year about it with Circlesing in the title, or the recent one about Illumination at Boogaloos last month for details), so I won't cover the same territory, but a few things drifted across my mind yesterday.
I love the "settling" in that happens at big, long events that one is a part of; there's been all the planning and preparation and now "the big day" is undeniably here. If there's a group of people - and with big events, there usually is - who have planned together, they get to enjoy that moment of seeing each other arrive early, what stage of preparation those already there have gotten to. The bustle, the fuss, the running hither and thither - it's bonding. Did someone take care of the signs? Does anyone know where _______ is? Has the ______ shown up yet? (there's almost always something one is waiting for and concerned it might not arrive). Yesterday, it was coffee - we couldn't get access to the coffee pots and so I was the one to go on a Peet's (regular) and Whole Foods (decaf) run. That was my contribution - get coffee. I don't drink it really other than an occasional mocha, but those who DO drink it assure me it's crucial for all day-meetings and certainly for a 12-hour song. So, I got coffee.
And I got to participate in the moment at the end - ah, the end! The emergence is what it's all about, as I say - when we were thanked by the group. By sheer happenstance (I think - I didn't plan it), all the main event planners ended up right next to each other at midnight, arm in spontaneous arm, connected and happy together about giving such a great party. For me, there is great joy in this moment of looking around at all the happy, sweaty, alive, wild, expressive, free, hopeful singers and feeling that I helped, in whatever way, make this all possible - and looking around, especially, at the end of it, for the end is really a big climax of sound and spirit, totally indescribable but somewhat addictive: many of the people who sing for their lives at Singing For Your Life come back.
Once you get it, you want it again next year. We joke, we always know where we will be on Dec 30. There's people that only come once a year, but come faithfully - a sort of Same Time, Next Year but circlesinging instead of an affair - very much like those Dickens Faire dancers, you see them year after year but only in this limited, specific context. There's people that do the regular monthly circles and so of course show up for the grand yearly finale. There's strays that drift in from word of mouth or ads or some other avenue, and you can sometimes hear them saying, "Wow! That was GREAT! I'm coming back next year!" I love hearing that.
I'm fascinated too by the ways in which one CAN participate in something like this. Big events like this that are primarily participatory and also creative - big spiral dances or the like - mean that every single person who shows up contributes, and each person is crucial to making it happen. Each person has a unique voice - in this case, literally - to bring. I love the varieties of solos - the different ways in which people dance and sway to keep time - the people who sing sweet and the people who sing operatic and the people who sing with soul. The basses and the sopranos. The ones who can make great animal noises. The ones who can sing a good jazz solo. The ones who perhaps simply wear clothes that move in an interesting way. It all comes together to make it beautiful.
There's an additional ineffable quality that people bring - of being present, of holding space, of being OF as well as IN the circle. It's hard to describe unless you have experienced it, but intense situations that are positive (so, not arrests or fights or the like) require someone with some skill (or innate ability) to be present to hold the space, to keep it all together, emotionally, spiritually, energetically. If you have ever seen a good public speaker or facilitator - even a therapist, or performer - you know how important energetic space holding is. Some people can electrify a crowd by their presence. The leaders of the song in the circle do the obvious of musically improvising, keeping time, singing, teaching the parts, listening, adjusting dynamics, giving instructions from subtle to explicit....but they also hold the circle together energetically, which is actually the REAL trick. It's only partially what they are doing but also who they are.
I led a little bit yesterday - as I did the year before, and at the circlesing a couple weeks ago. It gets easier (and more successful) every time. It's the type of thing that, very classically, is MUCH harder to do than it looks. When you get out in the middle of the circle to solo - and yes, I'm talking about circlesinging here, but you can certainly apply these same ideas and principles to other disciplines you personally might be more familiar with, like surfing or parenting or whatever you do - when you get out the middle of the circle, and you are the center of the attention, it requires mostly an overcoming of fear. Once you get out there - if you are lucky - the spirit takes over, and you don't have to DO much. Basically, just get out of your own way, and you're golden. The circle is there to help and encourage you and support you - no matter how awful you sound...and usually that's just initial nerves and experimentation. Most people warm up and find their voice, magically being transformed right before everyone's eyes. It's marvelous to watch someone blossom.
But leading - that's something else. It requires far more active effort, and lots more confidence. It requires a lot of effort but not much thinking - like tango, you need a lot of effort and attention but no intellectual thought about what you're doing, or you will muff it. I'm able to do it for one round - setting up one whole "song" with a different part for bass, tenor, altos and sopranos (roughly). The last two songs I set up have had a cohesive, pretty quality I was surprised by. Wow, I think, standing in the middle of the circle, I did that? That came from me - or through me? Crazy!
It also makes me pretty happy at the end because when a song goes for 12 hours, and only a few people have led it, and I was one of them, even if for only 5 minutes...well, I don't know WHAT to even say. It's not something I can describe. It's like life is just so charming. I can't help but think that - how lovely life can be, on Dec 30 in Oakland, at least. And grateful....the circle makes me grateful, deeply and profoundly grateful.
I've had times when Singing For Your Life was transforming, when it arrived with epiphany. This recent week, I had an amazing family reunion (all of us together: mom, dad and two brothers - and me - after decades), so I wasn't expecting anything earth-shattering from Dec 30. I'd already had my most recent miracle. Yesterday was more about community, the love I know of, some art, some creation, some tribal dancing and wildness and letting go of stiff bodies and stiff thoughts - and that all happened, indeed.
On a side note, I often am fascinated reflecting on what does (or does not) produce moments of insight, epiphany, illumination. I've learned that just because a particular experience can lead to a transformative moment, it doesn't always, and what worked once won't always work again. I have to stop myself sometimes from expecting illumination just because I'm doing something that got me that the last time I did it. In other words, I have a good idea when I sign up for that Tantric seminar or arrange for a family reunion or sing for 12 hours that something will happen, but I don't know what it's going to be, and I don't know if it's going to be big or not. People come back to Singing For Your Life year after year, but that's probably because it's consistently a good time in great community - and hey, there's a chance at epiphany. It's like a weather report: joyous with a chance of satori.
It's now 11:53 P.M. on Dec 31, so I guess I should get off my laptop and watch the ball fall on our TV with Dick Clark and his New Year's Rockin' Eve, and drink my champagne (with a little grapefruit and pomegranate juice, which probably has a name but I don't know it), and welcome 2012 with open arms.
May it be the end of this current world, which sorely needs radical change. I don't believe it will be the end of the world. I, predictably I guess, think it's more like a beginning. The year everyone realizes the revolution is underway - and I don't mean the economic and social (but that too), but the revolution that will take place in people's hearts. I'm hoping for increased compassion and understanding in everyone, everywhere. Failing that, maybe we can just all be a little kinder to each other.
Thanks for reading me this year. I'll keep writing in 2012 as long as someone keeps reading.
Yesterday was Singing For Your Life, the annual 12-hour circlesong, led by (mostly) the members of SoVoSo. I think we had about 300 - 400 people yesterday, and it was once again a success. I was there from about 10am until almost 1am. A long day. I'm (nominally) part of the group that makes it happen, so I was one of the first ones in and the last ones out.
I've talked before about some of the qualities of this event (see the post last year about it with Circlesing in the title, or the recent one about Illumination at Boogaloos last month for details), so I won't cover the same territory, but a few things drifted across my mind yesterday.
I love the "settling" in that happens at big, long events that one is a part of; there's been all the planning and preparation and now "the big day" is undeniably here. If there's a group of people - and with big events, there usually is - who have planned together, they get to enjoy that moment of seeing each other arrive early, what stage of preparation those already there have gotten to. The bustle, the fuss, the running hither and thither - it's bonding. Did someone take care of the signs? Does anyone know where _______ is? Has the ______ shown up yet? (there's almost always something one is waiting for and concerned it might not arrive). Yesterday, it was coffee - we couldn't get access to the coffee pots and so I was the one to go on a Peet's (regular) and Whole Foods (decaf) run. That was my contribution - get coffee. I don't drink it really other than an occasional mocha, but those who DO drink it assure me it's crucial for all day-meetings and certainly for a 12-hour song. So, I got coffee.
And I got to participate in the moment at the end - ah, the end! The emergence is what it's all about, as I say - when we were thanked by the group. By sheer happenstance (I think - I didn't plan it), all the main event planners ended up right next to each other at midnight, arm in spontaneous arm, connected and happy together about giving such a great party. For me, there is great joy in this moment of looking around at all the happy, sweaty, alive, wild, expressive, free, hopeful singers and feeling that I helped, in whatever way, make this all possible - and looking around, especially, at the end of it, for the end is really a big climax of sound and spirit, totally indescribable but somewhat addictive: many of the people who sing for their lives at Singing For Your Life come back.
Once you get it, you want it again next year. We joke, we always know where we will be on Dec 30. There's people that only come once a year, but come faithfully - a sort of Same Time, Next Year but circlesinging instead of an affair - very much like those Dickens Faire dancers, you see them year after year but only in this limited, specific context. There's people that do the regular monthly circles and so of course show up for the grand yearly finale. There's strays that drift in from word of mouth or ads or some other avenue, and you can sometimes hear them saying, "Wow! That was GREAT! I'm coming back next year!" I love hearing that.
I'm fascinated too by the ways in which one CAN participate in something like this. Big events like this that are primarily participatory and also creative - big spiral dances or the like - mean that every single person who shows up contributes, and each person is crucial to making it happen. Each person has a unique voice - in this case, literally - to bring. I love the varieties of solos - the different ways in which people dance and sway to keep time - the people who sing sweet and the people who sing operatic and the people who sing with soul. The basses and the sopranos. The ones who can make great animal noises. The ones who can sing a good jazz solo. The ones who perhaps simply wear clothes that move in an interesting way. It all comes together to make it beautiful.
There's an additional ineffable quality that people bring - of being present, of holding space, of being OF as well as IN the circle. It's hard to describe unless you have experienced it, but intense situations that are positive (so, not arrests or fights or the like) require someone with some skill (or innate ability) to be present to hold the space, to keep it all together, emotionally, spiritually, energetically. If you have ever seen a good public speaker or facilitator - even a therapist, or performer - you know how important energetic space holding is. Some people can electrify a crowd by their presence. The leaders of the song in the circle do the obvious of musically improvising, keeping time, singing, teaching the parts, listening, adjusting dynamics, giving instructions from subtle to explicit....but they also hold the circle together energetically, which is actually the REAL trick. It's only partially what they are doing but also who they are.
I led a little bit yesterday - as I did the year before, and at the circlesing a couple weeks ago. It gets easier (and more successful) every time. It's the type of thing that, very classically, is MUCH harder to do than it looks. When you get out in the middle of the circle to solo - and yes, I'm talking about circlesinging here, but you can certainly apply these same ideas and principles to other disciplines you personally might be more familiar with, like surfing or parenting or whatever you do - when you get out the middle of the circle, and you are the center of the attention, it requires mostly an overcoming of fear. Once you get out there - if you are lucky - the spirit takes over, and you don't have to DO much. Basically, just get out of your own way, and you're golden. The circle is there to help and encourage you and support you - no matter how awful you sound...and usually that's just initial nerves and experimentation. Most people warm up and find their voice, magically being transformed right before everyone's eyes. It's marvelous to watch someone blossom.
But leading - that's something else. It requires far more active effort, and lots more confidence. It requires a lot of effort but not much thinking - like tango, you need a lot of effort and attention but no intellectual thought about what you're doing, or you will muff it. I'm able to do it for one round - setting up one whole "song" with a different part for bass, tenor, altos and sopranos (roughly). The last two songs I set up have had a cohesive, pretty quality I was surprised by. Wow, I think, standing in the middle of the circle, I did that? That came from me - or through me? Crazy!
It also makes me pretty happy at the end because when a song goes for 12 hours, and only a few people have led it, and I was one of them, even if for only 5 minutes...well, I don't know WHAT to even say. It's not something I can describe. It's like life is just so charming. I can't help but think that - how lovely life can be, on Dec 30 in Oakland, at least. And grateful....the circle makes me grateful, deeply and profoundly grateful.
I've had times when Singing For Your Life was transforming, when it arrived with epiphany. This recent week, I had an amazing family reunion (all of us together: mom, dad and two brothers - and me - after decades), so I wasn't expecting anything earth-shattering from Dec 30. I'd already had my most recent miracle. Yesterday was more about community, the love I know of, some art, some creation, some tribal dancing and wildness and letting go of stiff bodies and stiff thoughts - and that all happened, indeed.
On a side note, I often am fascinated reflecting on what does (or does not) produce moments of insight, epiphany, illumination. I've learned that just because a particular experience can lead to a transformative moment, it doesn't always, and what worked once won't always work again. I have to stop myself sometimes from expecting illumination just because I'm doing something that got me that the last time I did it. In other words, I have a good idea when I sign up for that Tantric seminar or arrange for a family reunion or sing for 12 hours that something will happen, but I don't know what it's going to be, and I don't know if it's going to be big or not. People come back to Singing For Your Life year after year, but that's probably because it's consistently a good time in great community - and hey, there's a chance at epiphany. It's like a weather report: joyous with a chance of satori.
It's now 11:53 P.M. on Dec 31, so I guess I should get off my laptop and watch the ball fall on our TV with Dick Clark and his New Year's Rockin' Eve, and drink my champagne (with a little grapefruit and pomegranate juice, which probably has a name but I don't know it), and welcome 2012 with open arms.
May it be the end of this current world, which sorely needs radical change. I don't believe it will be the end of the world. I, predictably I guess, think it's more like a beginning. The year everyone realizes the revolution is underway - and I don't mean the economic and social (but that too), but the revolution that will take place in people's hearts. I'm hoping for increased compassion and understanding in everyone, everywhere. Failing that, maybe we can just all be a little kinder to each other.
Thanks for reading me this year. I'll keep writing in 2012 as long as someone keeps reading.
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