(Re)Visit Interdependence Day through the eyes of Llani, second generation of Sirius’s founding family, the hardworking Intern, Grounds, and Maintenance Coordinator here, and editor of the Sirius book written by her father, Bruce (click here to get your copy). Why honor this holiday as “interdependence” instead of “independence?” Read on as Llani profoundly weaves this point through her storytelling of July 4th past and present.
I walked up the farmhouse driveway to the barter market under the arborvitae next to the children’s playground. People milled about and set up colorful blankets with random items from their houses.
Adam with his black robust beard and jolly laugh sat crossed legged in a tee shirt on the blanket hanging out with the youngest member of the community, his 5 month old daughter Lily. She sat in the world’s smallest pink plastic beach chair and sucked on a toy and gurgled. She smiled and though slightly falling over managed to maintain her sitting balance. Several other people of all ages lounged in the hammocks and chatted in small groups while some of the kids, talking excitedly in Russian, ran around in circles.
I scanned the people and the blankets looking for items of interest that I might be able to walk away with at the end of the day. The random sparkly tee shirt gave way to brand new croquet set and some dusty books that hadn’t seen the light of day for probably several years included a non-abridged copy of the oxford English dictionary coming in well over 1000 pages.
Adam tried to convince me that what I needed was a two inch small blue plastic replica of a Redsocks baseball cap used once for serving ice cream. I declined knowing it would become only a dust collector, but took immediate interest in various tee shirts, books and shorts laid out in the different blankets.
Further down the driveway, Sharon, in her glasses and home made shoes, bags dangling off her arm, with her two grandchildren in tow had set up her craft table. Solomon, Sharon’s younger grandchild, retreated to the sandbox underneath the yew tree to enthusiastically use the kids backhoe digger to move sand from one place to another while Millie hosted interested participants to “paint your own pet rock”. With her long dark hair, glasses and a colorful shirt at eight years old, she was more social and outgoing than her brother. She instructed any passing person about the best way to select the right rock to paint. She showed how to dip your brush just right, how to use the back of a round pink pencil eraser to make big paint dots, or use small rounded metal rods to make small dots plus the best corner of the cloth to clean your brush in between paint colors.
Sharon sat at the end of the table which was covered with colorful swathes of leather. She helped the interns use small round leather circles to make earrings by threading a small strip of leather through the middle of the hole and then punching a hole to feed the earring hook into it. Soon several people were wearing their new leather look and posing for the camera.
Hanging out with Sharon at the revival of our interdependence day celebration flooded me with childhood memories. I remembered being eight years old and the excitement of getting ready for the “big party” and all the potential visitors. Hanging out banners, finding all the plates from the kitchen and setting up a performance stage rivaled up even the most introverted child. We loved the kids games area and all the rehearsals we had for the perfect “kids skit.” We gathered our favorite costumes while always arguing about which kid could best mimic an adult in the community. We mused about what actually went on in all those “meetings” they so religiously attended and whether one day we might actually be able to eat pizza like “normal kids” rather than the overdone helpings of mushy millet and some strange stew with unrecognizable ingredients. And of course the one year I bought 80 percent of all the raffle tickets in the container and managed to win an entire blueberry pie just for myself that I ate without help. Eventually lots of guests would show up and exclaim about how they knew me when I was “just this big” and I would stare at them with no memory of the great times we apparently shared.
I was jolted back to the present when my mother Linda, an elder in the community, in the midst of the barter fair, rapidly drove up in her small blue electric hatchback and jumped out in a hurry. With her brown hair flying she busily unloaded her car exclaiming “Oh, I thought I was an hour late but I’m actually right on time!” Between running around to find the set of old tents to give away to participants and frantically searching every closet looking for the paper copy of the Declaration of Interdependence (created by the community sometime in the 1980s), she barely had a moment to sit down. But eventually when she donned the bright green sparkly tank top covered in sequins, I knew the fun was rolling. Several people laughed and took some pictures to note how much unlike ourselves we can sometimes dress.
I walked further and decided to join several men busily arguing about the universal rules for the game of croquet. The pickets were set up in a zigzag pattern in a field of tall clover and less than ideal for the game at hand. The men, some bearded and tall and all dressed in loose summer attire, managed to delay the game for several minutes with their arguments, meanwhile losing participation from the women including myself. They eventually came up with a game plan and were off to a competitive start. Loud cheering periodically erupted as each subsequent player managed to get a colorful ball through the hoops successfully without too much force or hitting someone else.
I managed to leave the barter market one pet rock, house plant and green tee shirt richer than when I arrived. A smashing success to be sure given that no money changed hands.
The event transitioned behind the community center and we gathered in a big circle of about 40 people surrounded by ant hills, and blooming clover covered by bumble bees and honey bees. The sun shone as there was a jostling for each person to find their preferred spot between shade and “I am just too hot.” Each person shared their name along with an action. Some twirled in a circle while others waved and some threw their arms in the air.
Millie with a bold voice enthusiastically led us all in a song while everyone sang and clapped.
The song: I want to walk a mile in your shoes.
CHORUS
I want to walk a mile in your shoes
I want to know what you think and feel
So I really want to walk a mile in your shoes.
Remember the fight that we had?
Why did we both have to lose?
It’s because we both walked away mad
Instead of walking a mile in each others shoes
CHORUS
I hear how the world is a mess
Whenever you turn on the news
But all countries could have happiness
If they’d be walking a mile in each other’s shoes.
CHORUS
Tempers start to cool down
A frown turns into a smile
Anger cannot be found
When your wearing their shoes
and walking that mile
CHORUS (3 times)
Sharon also led us all in a reading and described the wonders of being alive on planet earth. She recognized that we have an intimate relationship with the plants and trees as they breathe out our precious oxygen that we need to sustain our lives while we breathe out carbon dioxide which feeds the trees. We recognized the sacredness of this life that we share with the plants, animals, insects, fungi, rocks, water earth and sky. We are not separate or different from nature. Every aspect sustains us and gives us life and the ability to be here. We embraced the blessing of sharing life on this amazing fragile planet that we all call home.
Linda never did find the paper copy of the declaration of Interdependence but the benefits of modern technology saved us once again as someone whipped out a phone and the picture taken last year of our copy. We passed the phone around the circle and each person read out a paragraph reminding us of our sacred relationships. With all our different personalities, ages, religious and sexual orientations, skill sets and knowledge, each person brings a gift to this circle and to our community to create a whole larger than the collective individuals present.
We declared and named best practices wishes and desires for the earth and our desires for the healing of humanity. Click here to read the whole declaration document.
We stood up and absorbed it all. We considered how to take this all in and live lightly on the planet during this time of stress and the great turning towards a better way to be in the world. We sounded a single Om together to send out the caring energy to the world so that our good work radiates out and becomes a beacon of light for humanity in these changing and challenging times.
Yes, this is community and connection. This is age, integration and celebration. This is the future and the past. We have lived in community for thousands of years and the ‘one family, one household’ is a very new concept. We are relearning and remembering.
“And now, let’s eat!” The picnic was laid out, but rather than hot dogs and potato salad, in a clearly non-American fashion we stuck to our lentils, black beans and green salads. Though of course there was watermelon and the interns managed to make some delicious sugary cake and cinnamon rolls.
Everyone chatted and shared stories in the sunshine while Martin pulled out his guitar and proceeded to serenade us with the best Beatles songs in his repertoire.
Overall a smashing success! Who needs fireworks, hot dogs and potato chips when you can have pet rocks, homemade leather earrings, and the recognition of the interdependence of all life?!
