Eight years of practicing sacred chant with Life Together cohorts has made me a bold harmonizer. Though I have minimal formal vocal training, many of you have taught me over the years how to add layers to the sound we produce together. When it works, the result is rich and powerful. But sometimes, my harmony just comes out weird. Maybe my key is off-- there are some harmonies that are better in my head. Or maybe my deviation from the melody throws the whole group off-balance, and a moment of chaos ensues. In those moments, I pause, reset, and think to myself, "Back to basics," before rejoining the main melody.
The phrase "back to basics" has run through my head a lot in these past few weeks, and not just during a round of "To the Hills." In our current season of staff transition, the limits of my own capacity have meant thinking seriously about what is actually important. In that context, "back to basics" boils down to relationships. Relationships as the basis of our recruitment efforts. Relationships as the heart of our fundraising. Relationships as the core of how we all experience transformation through Life Together, as fellows, alumni, staff, and friends. Returning to my own Life Together organizing training more than a decade ago, I am doing a lot of 1:1s this spring to tend to existing relationships and help new ones to grow. And that time has already yielded creative energy and support to navigate this liminal season.
And of course, "back to basics" has also meant fostering the spiritual practices that connect us to God and the sacred. As we prepare for a training next month on contemplative practice, our community has talked about the deep lament we're holding over the brokenness of relationships. Some of this brokenness is interpersonal. We also experience it in the social climate of transphobia and racism that impacts so many within and beyond Life Together. And while we seek ways to act for justice and repair, we are also returning to those deep spiritual connection points as the wellspring for action: to the Bible and other sacred texts; to centering prayer and meditation; and yes, to chanting. Because as the upcoming story of Holy Week and Easter reminds us, year after year, death is not the last word. The fear and hatred surrounding us are not the last word. God speaks something new on the other side: through those 1:1s, through our action together, through the still, small voice in our exhausted hearts.
So in this spring of transitions, I am returning to the melody of Life Together, the melody of the Spirit. As we approach Holy Week in the Christian tradition, I hope that you also find and anchor yourself in the "back to basics" melody of your own life and faith.
Fellow Reflection: Margaret Walker
As a teenager growing up in Minneapolis, I couldn't wait to move far away. Despite my best efforts, I ended up attending college at the University of Minnesota, a whopping 6 miles away from my house. There, I discovered there was something deeply right about being in my hometown in this new way. I fell in love with the closeness of the skyline, the hushed wonder of the Mississippi River, which I crossed daily, and the wild turkeys who roamed the streets. Over the past 22 years, my heart has been both broken and filled with joy because of this city, as I have been raised in the midst of rivers, artists, bogs, and uprisings. (An essay, or perhaps novel, for another time). Moving across the country gave me a whole new perspective on what home means, and the significance of Place. I had never spent more than a few weeks outside of Minnesota before coming here. Now that I was gone from the city I had once been itching to leave, nothing seemed to make sense. How could this Place embrace me when it does not know me? Why are the roundabouts called rotaries, and why are everyone’s vowels so short? How could I belong here when I have almost no understanding of this Place?
On my first day here, as I was pulling up to my new home, I saw a tree on the boulevard that made me do a double take. I gazed at the smooth, flaking bark and the pointy tipped leaves. A sycamore. Never in my life have I had them so close, so constant. I was abuzz with excitement. What other newness will I share space with here? Months later, although my heart still longs for my cottonwood friends, I rejoice at the shagbark hickory, sweet gum, pin oak, and beech trees that have now become part of my surroundings. I have tasted the salt of the ocean, and watched honey bees bathing in pokeweed pollen. I still see wood ducks, great blue herons, and wild turkeys, but they live near Scarboro Pond rather than Minnehaha Creek. I have also exchanged homemade bread and locally grown eggplants with parishioners, and held people’s hands as they shared their stories with me on the mobile clinic where I work. I have slowly found new walking routes, new neighbors, a new community and way of living that have been extraordinarily transformative. Even during our house meetings, which often go on for hours, I am filled with wonder, love, and a sense of simple yet indescribable correctness. I have been connected with a web of people who exist at the intersections of spirituality and social justice, and I have finally begun tangibly developing resources, skills, and relationships to engage with my commitment to emergency preparedness.
After a night walk with one of my housemates one day, we sat and talked on the porch for a while, watching the steady stream of traffic go by. As we moved through the conversation, we approached the subject of friendships, reciprocity, and the desire for change. I paused and asked, “Do you want to create a new pattern with me?” They agreed, and we sat in excited silence, marveling at the magic of that moment. I am grateful for the Life Together ecosystem, which allows such conversations to occur regularly. Questions of belonging and feelings of homesickness still arise within me, but over time I have seen myself and others creating incredible new ways of being. My suspicions that intentional community has the power to re-calibrate who we are as a species on this planet have been confirmed in the ways I have seen us show up together, and in the ways we strive to carry our values and connections more wholly into our lives. Being here has allowed me to live in the way I have always wanted to, and I know these experiences will always be with me, no matter where I call home.
Alumni Profile: Amber Sarpy
Name and pronouns: Amber Sarpy (she/her)
Cohort year: 2009-2010
Where are you living now? Austin, TX area
What are you doing now? Music Therapy/Mental Health Counseling; Executive Director of The Clear and Blameless Word Ministries; Children's Ministry in the Episcopal Diocese of Texas
How has LT impacted your life?
Life Together was a pivotal moment in my life. I was in a great transition period. Prior to becoming a Life Together intern, I applied to attend graduate school. I was also advised to apply to be a DioMass Intern. I became part time grad student and a DioMass Intern at the same time. I found myself living with many identities that year: a woman, an Afro-Latina, a musician, a music educator, the daughter of a Nondenominational Pastor, a graduate student, an intentional community member, a community organizer in training, and a young adult minister. I was given the opportunity to explore how the many facets of my identity, at that moment, would inform the work for that year. It was very sobering.
The impact this reality made on my life has been long lasting. It taught me that in order to do meaningful work I need to embrace and understand that comfort is not always productive. It's nice to be comfortable, but if we peel back its layers, who is benefiting by it, and who is not? I also learned that oftentimes, I will know what to do as I go, rather than at the onset of a project, if I am intentional about seeking God's will for whatever the work entails. This knowing is best done in community with people who have been empowered to speak up for what they need, what they see, and what they do not see.
Anything else you'd like to share?
These days you'll find me raising my son and enjoying life as it is, rather than what I thought it would be. Happiness is sometimes a temporary notion, but God's joy is eternal. To follow us you can locate us on YouTube at It's Tomato's Mommy.