Last night, Maria brought me to an old warehouse in Glens Falls where a small group of people had gathered – bringing their potluck suppers – to listen to two hours of a Kirtan, spiritual chanting. It was like a Saturday Night Live skit, I thought when I first came in. Gentle beaming people with their vegeterian food talking about peace and light, actually singing “Hare Krishna.” Like the Beatles. Kids were welcome. Some people danced, others sang softly, others held their babies and sort of glowed.
How easy to caricature this, I thought, and this is what our culture does. The people who are in the news, on the talk shows, are angry, sometimes even hateful, talking about confrontation, war money, power. The people in this old factory room were gentle, loving, accepting, and they were talking about peace and light.
How interesting that in our society, the angry and warlike people get on television, and the peaceful and loving people are so marginalized, meeting on the fringes of our culture, seen as weird, strange out of the mainstream. I was thinking of the Orwell books about life in a warlike, corporate society, the rebels hiding out out of view of the cameras and listening devices. The room felt like that. I was happy to be there.
Last night I knew where I belonged. With my love, I closed my eyes, opened myself up and felt the rust and dirt washing off of me. A spiritual life is a life on the fringes, I think.