Sunday came around far too quickly, the rest of the week got lost in the wedding. for that reason I was not as prepared as I normally am, and suddenly realised that I had not printed out the emails I needed for Meeting.
This cut into my ‘preparing heart and mind’ time, but I could have managed if I had not lost my keys under a pile of things which we brought back from the wedding, etc. I literally ran around the house searching desperately for the keys, and then ran to my car. Darn it, I thought, I am going to be late. In my haste I left the milk so called in and bought a pint.
I drove by the quickest route and got there just a little late, but there was no-one there – the Meeting House was shut. There was no way of knowing if we had visitors who had given up on us, or not. I sat quietly for about 20 minutes but then I am afraid I left. I am ashamed to say that I cannot keep Meeting for an hour on my own.
It was when I got home and checked my landline phone that I found that a message had been left on my phone, presumably to tell me that I would be opening up.
Oh, darn it to heck.
(kicks self hard)
Hmm, must dig that song out!
The repercussions of YMG keep on. I had a long chat with someone from our area meeting about how YMG went. I know her vaguely – we are not that close, but it was good to talk and compare notes and to talk about how Lancashire Meeting move to continue the good and inspiring work of YMG.
I seem to have been on the phone a lot tonight. there is someone on the forum that I spoke to on the phone for the first time today. Tina is a lovely person and we chatted for a long time. I hope we meet soon.
Then mum rang and we passed the time of day. Three phone calls and hardly any evening left.
I am on a park and ride scheme at the hospital and I surprised our minibus driver this evening playing his guitar. He is practising for a gig. It reminded me of when I was in a band and I told him about Gordun Bennitt and how I missed part of the experience. The high you get from coming off stage just cannot be bottled! I don’t miss the lugging of equipment and setting up and tearing down. I don’t miss the petty arguments about ‘our musical direction’ or whether someone is pulling their weight. I don’t miss the bad rehearsals. I do miss the cameraderie, the sharing of something special when you create; the shared looks between muscians as they work in harmony (especially literally – I love harmony!) I felt so in tune – again literally – with the other bandmembers. I felt confident about my singing, and my writing. It was a good time, mostly.
I wonder how Liz, Kev, Craig and Richard are doing.
I am glad that though I am not making music these days that other people still practice and apparently want to make music because of the love of music and not just as a get rich quick scheme.
We all held hands and sang softly.
What a magical experience this was. After the experience of the minute and all the other things, this was in some ways the culmination of the week, a gentle taking of leave from F(f)riends old and new.
As we came out of the show organised by Majk and walked towards the bridge we could hear soft voices singing. We took our places in soft rain and joined with the singing , though we didn’t know the words. The song was a canon, a round, and it drifted across the water so that from
Holding hands around the lake at twilight
different parts of the lake we heard different lines. Though I didn’t know it, I was soon able to sing a couple of lines. No one sang loudly – softness seemed instinctive. The song was (I Googled it):
Building bridges between our divisions.
I reach out to you, will you reach out to me.
With all of our voices and all of our visions
Friends we can make sweet harmony
Then the balloons were set off and drifted up into the night sky and eventually burned up. It felt like the end at that point, and I suppose it was in some ways. The Meeting for leaving was different – it was very much a girding of the loins for the next piece of the work – the bringing the Spirit of the Meeting out to our own local Meetings.