The gang of four, as in bandmates, among us.
At first take, a call out to your neighbors for compassion and camaraderie. It seems when there is thus, spirituality will always enter in. So essentially will a call out to your God — and later a desire to minister to others — or to Allah, or as a band frontman said, whatever god you bow down to, or none at all.
In this case, it was a musician looking for others to talk to, and sing with, that was the driving force for seeking out a group of people for spiritual conversation. His all-call started out slow, but quickly built.
At the meetings that started it all with the four of us, the horsemen you could say, with topics weaving here and there, it was not to sound corny, but the love of God and each other, and other spiritualism on the fly. And in that, with our soon lingering longer-and-longer before the closing moment, we planned going to summer out on-the-lawn concerts and having frequent movie nights. To get together more than once or even twice a week, which is rare. Some in the group didn’t want these nights to end, saying these bonding experiences should indeed be “eternal.” So we culled through the nearby cabinets, finding them bare, for a place to set up a TV screen, for screening future movies.
— So just what happens when your doors have been shuttered by ICE? Take Azul Tequila, for example.
The front door had over a week ago positioned right next to it what was described as a lawful notice, full page with single spaced lettering, to all government agents and officials, that they would have to have a legal warrant to enter. It noted that guests and customers were welcome.
A sign on the door said at that time that they’d be temporarily closed, until further notice, and sorry for that inconvenience. The multi-business sign on the corner of this strip mall still listed the name of this restaurant.
A ticket was seen plopped on the parking lot surface a few feet away, from the Bowman appraisal company, saying they were commissioned by the municipality. —
That’s what forming a small group of people and getting together and bonding and consoling, much like a church setting or a communion of saints or even souls looking to cross over, will do for you.
However, this effort was still progressing, to move on to the next day and with it other chances, and with them bring in others in the building, and thus serve — and further involve — even more people in our powwow.
The conversations with our core of four regulars quickly turned into a greater opportunity, stemming from convalescing about the rigors of life, then moving its way through many more topics, using song and our 90 minutes together, and growing, for a third time around now, in sessions that were devoted to sharing deepest thoughts and feelings. With heavy doses of compassion, some of it spinning off the way we harmonized on tunes, or just played the bongos. (The last of us brought a percussion instrument also, the last time.) That’s where it started with the main musician, God fearing to a fault more or less, but with questions, as we would share scores of supportive texts back and forth for many a day.
And it all centered around God, for three of the four of us, (one is a spiritualist), and to a lesser degree music — whether a player, singer or listener — and how to find Him in those chords. We thus even did a recording of Hotel California, becoming our own Eagles, in one take and the tune was considered good enough that the main musician immediately shared it with his mom, who immediately texted me, with a mostly warm critique.
The main man’s tunes strummed on a guitar always brought us back to a focal point — returning when I’d go spinning off too much on what I think are the evils of detaining immigrants, and how it’s being done — to keep our discussions topical but not political.
Our off-the-cuff sharing in the halls about the exasperation of life, had taken the form of getting together in this formal setting, the central gathering area of the building where we reside, and its cushy seats that are circled around, making this the perfect place to kick around ideas. And mostly dare to look each other square in the eye. But always be respectful and understanding. Usually.
The players …
Those sorting it out, and a higher power’s place among it, were myself, and a group of three other ones I’ll call the guitarist-leader, the existential searcher and the holistic helper. These chats ended up being followed by next day discussion, getting to involve two others, to be dubbed here as the advocate and the scooter man.
But the first night’s session was about reading signs from God, a topic decided on by the guitarist-leader who felt he’d gotten a few, and had been debating — along with a Buddhist monk over the phone — when they are overt enough to be from Him. (The spiritualist chimed in with her own story of a different faith, and how she’d come to be where she is at.)
The second night was about, again, sharing, and squaring it around a commitment to go to that major summer pop concert together, the farewell reunion of one of the main musician’s favorite groups, The Black Crowes, as a carload, over in Minnesota and expand the spiritual experience. Don’t necessarily need the Boundary Waters.
The searcher among us had the most profound and deep thoughts, although he appeared to be in existential crisis. He had found God in many places and sessions, but it seemed that presence soon would drop off, or evolve and switch gears, when circumstances in his life changed. His soul just seems to cry out, There has to be something more?
He knew many people from St. Patrick’s Catholic Church and is in a men’s group that meets weekly. He mentioned some first names, together with their occupations, and I straight up knew who they were, from worshipping together. The searcher is also active in a movie-based Bible study there. His influences ranged from spiritual leaders to atheists, when he was as young as a nine-year-old.
The guitarist-leader was the organizer and along with myself, the asker of added questions. He played the lower two strings on his guitar with precision, and seemed to inspire thoughts, from various people like myself. I was mostly trying to give helpful insight, and lead people in a new direction, especially about their relationships, and how to find God in them.
That was a facet where the holistic helper chimed in and seemed to also ask things the most astutely, and give advice that would take aim and sort of be like leading a horse to water. She’d had her own this-way-and-that spiritual struggles before coming around to higher powers. So make your statement, politely, and then curl back up into your blanket.
Not much later, we all departed for the night. This was around our middle session, before we got back, after a few days, to the point — via in a separate way a room closer to the front door — where this mini-ministry spread.
So the conversation would pick up again, not much later, with another resident, on the same floor, and the advocate, a volunteer for all who are disabled and working to fight through red-tape rules and negotiate life.
She is a staunch believer in The Bible, and it goes all the way through with one exception — she has an issue with Paul because of his past history as Saul and his persecution of Christians, which obviously goes against Christ, her main issue with the apostle. But there’s no problem at all with his mother.
The conversation went on much more than an hour longer than that. Several residents came and went through the front door, inspiring momentary humorous interludes, but then there was that very serious one. A man who needed to use a scooter, and had to struggle many times before succeeding to get over the edge to enter the main room, and was trying at the same time to gather his groceries. We agreed to help, and carry them downstairs to his apartment — even though he was a bit hesitant to request aid. The edge-factor inspired the active part of the advocate to come out.
But he soon was more eager to tell of his fighting in wars. Two of them. Then the scooter man sat by quietly and respectfully while the advocate took the conversation to the next level, as far as how to stop fighting such wars. Soon she wound up asking the scooter man if he would consider speaking at the 250th anniversary of our country — as he tells his tale wherever he goes — to be held in summer in a nearby park.
And so the ministry, and all it entails, goes on, and on and on.