When King Arthur first meets Lancelot duLac in the musical, “Camelot,” he wishes to introduce the French aristocrat Lancelot to Queen Guinivere, who has gone out with the court “a-Maying.” Lancelot is thoroughly baffled by this term … “A-Maying?” he asks. “It’s a sort of picnic,” Arthur explains. “A time for gathering flowers, for eating wild berries, for playing …” Lancelot is incensed. “Knights?? Gathering flowers???” “Well, someone has to do it!” Arthur retorts. “Besides, it’s civilized. And civilization requires a few gentle hobbies.”
As we celebrate the flowering of Earth in springtime (at least for this part of the globe), we welcome Earth’s gorgeous colors, the length of days, brilliant sunshine, sparkling raindrops, an endless symphony of birdsong, chirps, squeaks, croaks, howls and buzzing. We also welcome perennial hope. Are we open to hope now?
Especially now, when fear seems so pervasive and anxiety presses in among our human family, we require a few of life’s “gentle hobbies.”
Earth is teaching us how to be genuine lovers of life. Our plant kin constantly push roots down further into the depths, and shoot their growing stalks up toward the light, reaching out, thirsty and open. Our arbor elders connect in a wood-wide web to share nutrients and information, so much life among them thrumming beneath the surface. Our creature kin do not fret over accumulating wealth or amassing power. They love to play while they work. They favor potential mates with their best plumage and colors, elaborate dancing, diving, soaring, waggling and otherwise enticing. They sing and hop and hoot! They know there is no guarantee or “insurance” in a precarious universe. Why not play? Cooperation, not competition, bolsters our best chances for survival. Perhaps gathering flowers, playfulness and unrelenting joy is the best way to “court the World Soul,” as mythologist Sharon Blackie might say.
Hope inheres in the complex unity and fecund, diverse magnificence of creation. Breathe in the aromatic splendor, and let allergies begone! Sing out like the meadow lark! Dance with abandon among the flowering grasses! Chase butterflies and stay outside till dusk to watch the first twinkling stars appear. Remain for the fireflies and savor the emergence of moonglow. Stay awake until your eyelids feel heavy from so much awe, and your smile curls into the nighttime’s last “Thanks.” Spend all your time with those who need your companionship, and remember to widen your circles by reaching out to the edges. Venture deeper into the forest. Live into the wilder “WE!” Lavish your love. Celebrate your children and grandchildren constantly, revere your wise elders, and cherish your beloved friends. Play! Plant! Grow! Let this be our prayer. Let this be our hope. We are children of primordial gardeners, after all.
In another beloved musical, “South Pacific,” USAF Lieutenant Joseph Cable falls in love with the daughter of a Polynesian native in the middle of the Second World War. “Younger than springtime are you!” he serenades her. “Softer than starlight are you!” He woos her with the Mother-tongue, the first language, the language of Earth. That’s just what we need to be, to do in the midst of this PanDeepening. Let’s be younger than springtime. It’s time to go a-Maying!
—Laura Weber, Prairiewoods associate-director and retreats coordinator