Behind the Walls and Silliness

Yesterday we spent a lovely morning participating in a fundraiser for the School for Special Children. An amazing home tour made possible by a huge number of volunteers. We were lucky to get tickets. And even luckier that our volunteer driver was one of our dear friends. Getting a glimpse Behind The Walls is a treat. Not only a look at the architecture and gardens, but also art in every possible medium. We toured 4 homes and met lots of fun people along the way. Now we get to use our imaginations to create our own new spaces upon return to North Carolina!!!

I love what’s behind the walls and gates here. First the surprise, then the intimacy and beauty. Over and over again I happen upon the yet-to-be-revealed. I am so drawn to discovery. What will I find today? What’s at the end of the rainbow? It’s not that I don’t appreciate grand architecture and formal gardens, but my soul is more apt to leap when suddenly coming face-to-face with that which was tucked away or barely noticeable.

I wonder if this isn’t also true of my inner world as I sit quietly or meditate or listen to music and poetry and some small bit of beauty draws me into new awareness.

First the surprise. Then the intimacy. And sweet connection.

And from Steve, SILLINESS

An accomplished bagpipist living in the boonies of Kentucky, was asked to play at the funeral of a homeless man who had no relatives. The funeral was out in the sticks, and on the way to the funeral the bagpiper got completely lost. He arrived hopelessly frustrated one hour later to find a motley group of men standing in a field around a hole. He rushed to the scene and asked them to gather round and began playing the sweetest, most soulful and mournful music. After 15 or 20 minutes, he ended with playing and singing Amazing Grace as tears rolled down the faces of the gathered men.

The bagpiper was equally moved. 

After the tears had fallen. One of the men said 

I’ve been putting in septic tanks for 40 years and I’ve never seen nothing like this.

When I was little, I spent hours alone. Both my parents were quiet, introverted, and my sisters were also introverts. So I spent hours and hours alone in my thoughts. 

When I was much older a friend told me, Steve your antenna are turned inward. That was a stunning, but helpful piece of information. On one hand, I had access to a still, small voice inside of me. Some call it the voice of God. Others, the voice of spirit, or the invisibleTao or inner wisdom.

On the other hand, I had a monkey mind, egoic voice that was also persuasive, I often couldn’t tell the difference between the two voices.

Eventually I would suddenly realize that this egoic voice that constantly talked about me wasn’t real. In fact, there was a pretty good chance that I wasn’t real, and therefore the thing I most obsessed about didn’t even exist. The passing of a close friend this year drove that point home and opened me wide to the infinite, timeless nature of existence and the silliness of it all.