THE THREAD | Some notes for a new movement . . .
I wrote these words exactly four years ago when they felt the most urgent. As we bear witness today to a significant transition in our country, I share this again because these words still feel urgent to me.
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SOME NOTES FOR THE NEW MOVEMENT
. . . the movement toward a rooted life. A rooted and radical life. Radical not as fanatic, not as zealot, not as some wild idea wrapped in certainty. No, radical as radish, same root word, radical as a root held close to earth, sustained by the deep mystery of sunlight and soil and seed and saturation and spirit combined. Toward a rooted life that emerges, grows, blossoms, and bears fruit with no forethought beyond becoming what is already inborn. Toward the daily work of a rooted life.
. . . the movement toward a rooted SOLIDARITY. Solidarity rooted not in colorblind sameness, not in a tasteless weightless wafer of monotony, not absorbed into the hive-mind mob. No, solidarity in the solid lives of all among us, bodies broken over centuries, hearts pumping the same blood, the salt-taste sea of our earliest emerging. Solidarity that sinks below only to rise up stronger. Solidarity that is merely one single drop until it rises up and returns to the teeming.
. . . the movement toward a rooted STEWARDSHIP. Stewardship rooted not in a dominion over, not in control of a world forsaken. No, stewardship of every given thing, acceptance of the gift of it all, as if wrapped in paper on a snowy morning, a slow opening, the awe of, How did you know this is what I wanted, how did you know? An embrace of the given, (and, if able, of the Giver), and a promise to care, I swear, I’ll cherish this, I promise, thank you thank you. To care for. To carry forward.
. . . the movement toward a rooted SUFFICIENCY. Sufficiency rooted not in a self-defeating poverty, not in a self-seeking abundance. No, sufficiency rooted in a new sense of Enough. Never minding the neighbors’ acquisitions, the latest gadgets, someone else’s maid-polished baseboards. Never-minding someone else’s version of desert asceticism. No, sufficiency as a bow to the sparrows, the lilies, the least of these. A deep bow to a creation too rich to abstain from it all, yet too at risk to plunder and devour it all. Just enough. This is enough. This.
. . . the movement toward a rooted DISSENT. Dissent rooted not in a picket-sign Saturday, not filling up on the news feed until full of disgust. No, dissent born of the same heart-itch that gave rise to “Let my people go,” that gave rise to 95 Theses nailed to a door, Common Sense handed out in the colonies, a Declaration sent across the sea, Rosa in the front seat. Dissent that knows that the language of kings and clerics and corporations will never get it quite right, knows that more voices might a mess in the mix make. But what might emerge, what might emerge?
. . . the movement toward a rooted HOPE. Hope rooted not in the onward and upward, not the bigger and better, not the inevitable march of progress, not your grandfather’s manifest destiny, not your grandmother’s sweet By-and-By. No. Hope in hearts and hands at work, hearts and hands at work planting seeds, at work opening the day’s gifts and holding up for all to see, dismantling missile silos, catching newly-crowning heads, hearts and hands at work lifted to praise, lowered to pull weeds. Hearts and hands at work, the work that clicks a better future into place one moment at a time.
Toward a rooted life of SOLIDARITY, STEWARDSHIP, SUFFICIENCY, DISSENT, and HOPE, move me, move us, let’s move . . . move . . . move us all.
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What I'm listening to: Jeff Tweedy's Love is the King, Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, Gillian Welch's Soul Journey
What I'm reading: Walter Brueggemann's Journey to the Common Good, this incredible NYT article arguing for a new Works Progress Administration program for the arts
What I'm watching: Neighbors in Quarantine
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Onward to a new brotherhood and sisterhood,
Andrew