Household Chores

Household chores are scary. Not the kind of scary that you get from a monster movie - after the movie, the actors all get to go home. No, this is the kind of scary that makes me lie awake at night, wondering "Was everything done? Did I forget something?" And sure enough, tommorow always reveals more undone chores. For example, there is some kind of strange machine living in our garage. Anna calls it a "warsha machine." I don't exactly know what that is, but it apparently doesn't work very well, because she's always checking it. She'll check the warsha machine two, or even three times a week! Personnally, I don't know why we even have the darned thing, if it needs so much checking. However, Anna gets upset anytime I mention weaning ourselves off of the warsha machine; so for now, I'll just avoid the garage. It scares me. A lot.

Drumming Circles

I went to a picnic October, 2004, at a retreat run by our church. I had heard that there would be something called a "drumming circle." Curious, I headed to the sounds of the drumming and saw several people sitting on benches and rocks, beating various drums and sticks. I sat down and was handed a drum. There was no script, no sheet music, no direction; I just joined in with my own beat. Each person beat the drum they had been given, each with their own rhythm and tone. There was no right or wrong way to beat and there was no concept of discord, even when the children happily banged on their instruments; there was just each person's unique sound. No one person so loud as to dominate; each person was an essential part of the whole, each adding their unique contribution. The details changed as people came and went, but the essential whole remained. Just as in life, we each come without script or direction and add our unique contribution to the whole. What we share in common brings us together, but our differences turn life into music.