A few weeks ago, I got a card in the mail from one of my favorite young women. This college freshman was one of my favorite youth group members in the UU church at which I served as student minister, and I am tickled pink that we're corresponding, mostly via random cards and lots of rambly stories about life. The P.S. in this last card said, "'I Love You and Buddha Too' - check it out. It's stuck in my head. <3"
Now, if there is anyone reading this blog who has not heard this song, this either means that I have not been doing my job as your friend or family member, or that strangers are reading my blog (which seems like it'd be an achievement!).
Check it out - it'll get stuck in your head!
This is one of my favorite songs in the whole damn world, so I generally try to share it with everyone I know who could possibly appreciate it. The fact that my friend would spontaneously offer this particular song seemed like kismet. I immediately began planning a mix CD in my head to offer right back to her, with all the songs that were so precious and formative for me when I was in college. There are just too many of them, so I started imagining an epic 5-disc mix CD EXPERIENCE, with each disc having a different theme and follow a distinct plotline - needless to say, I get a little intense about it. I felt eager to share this sacredness with someone I value, and to contribute something tangible to her life. It's like some kind of weird, intuitive ministry I've been practicing for years.
There are very few people with whom I feel close that I haven't tried to foist a mix CD or two onto over the course of our relationship. It's an act of love, tied closely to my gift-giving "love language", Gary Chapman-style. As I've reflected on this habit of mine - and my gratitude that so many friends have humored me - I've realized that making a mix CD of songs I have carefully chosen for their poignant messages and tempos that fit whatever a friend is experiencing is a hugely meaningful practice for me. If the recipient listens closely, I feel like I can share this emotional experience with him, and help him feel understood and encouraged exactly where he is in life at that moment. And best yet, it's a physical token of my affection which can sit on a shelf, ready to share and be experienced whenever he wants to, at his leisure. And it'll still be there tomorrow.
That's where the spiritual discipline ties in. One of the aspects of God's nature which is most important to me is the fact that God is always. I can trust that God will be right here with me today and tomorrow, and while God is changed by human experience, God's lasting and essential goodness can be relied on. There are artifacts in our home which I let clutter up our shelves simply because their existence, in reminding me of loved ones and evoking special memories, resonates in me with the constant conviction of God's -ness. So when I make you a CD, I give myself the lofty and impossible goal of creating an artifact which can be relied on to resonate with you on a deeply human level, echoing sacredness.
Or, admittedly, maybe I'm in a mood that day to just give you awesome jams I think you'll dig.
Either way, it means I love you.
