There aren’t the words to begin to approach, dissect, process or understand the horrendous tragedy in Orlando this past Sunday. Our hearts wrenched worldwide for our brothers and sisters who violently suffered in an incomprehensible attack.
And naturally as the questions “why” and “how can we change this” surface, my social media feed heralded calls for love, as well as the very good question of why Americans need such easy access to assault rifles.
Now there are reports surfacing of this gunman being potentially gay himself: opening the doors to comprehending if this was a terrorist attack at all, or a monstrously conflicted young man, at war within himself: when who he felt he was went against anything he taught was “good” and “right.”
Last night I came across this story— a version of what I had heard already about “calling in” the song of your child and how the African tribes do it:
THEY’RE SINGING YOUR SONG by Allen Cohen
“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 again 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 dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.”
I love this:
“When you recognize your own song,
you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.”
How beautifully accurate and so simple.
So, since we’re not part of any African tribes— (and if you are; can I come visit?) how do we know our song?
The spiritual path, journey, exploration, whatever you want to call it, is the search for our song. Most of us know it, more specifically it is a continual reminding of our song. Of WHO WE ARE.
In last week’s darling video Michelle Goldblum of Soul Camp described her experience in the Awakening Course as: “It changed everything for me.”
She delightedly recounted: “I’ll never forget taking the course and walking out and, like, looking at a dog— and being like: ‘You just happen to be a dog. (It was life changing!) We are the same. You’re a dog… right now; I just happen to be a girl.”
She giggled as she relayed the story, but the realization was real.
The point of this work, this writing, this connection between you and I and all of us, over social media, IRL, courses, play or work is only ever to continually reveal the truth:
WE ARE THE SAME.
This is our song.
Let us contintually sing it. For ourselves. And to each other.
And yes, let’s cry and mourn and fight for change and rally and outrage and love. But above all, let’s sing.
“The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity.”
A dog. A girl. A terrorist. Obama. Trump. Isis. Amma. Gay, Transgendered, Republican, gun-toting, incense waving, prolific, pretentious, sweet or/and simple.
We are the same.
Let’s remind each other of our song.
You are I are One.
With deep love,
