My First Vigil

It would seem for all the talking I do, I would have attended a peace vigil, protest, march or anything group-oriented long before today. Nope. Don't really know why, just never have. I think I often justified that the enormous effort I was making just navigating my own life without inflicting violence was heroic in itself. But, today, on the 5-year anniversary of our misadventures in Iraq, the conditions seemed right to invite (read: coerce) my four adorable and only slightly-sulky sons to accompany me to my local Quaker Meeting for a 45-minute gathering and potluck. I knew I'd probably want to write about it.. but I wasn't sure what aspect would generate "blog-fodder" (as I like to call it).

It was a lovely, balmy evening... the heaviest of the all-day rain seemed to have passed by the time we arrived. In spite of boy #1 & 2's best efforts to weasel out, we all filed into the Meetinghouse for the preliminary 15 minutes of Silent Worship. Regardless of where their heads were at in those moments, I was filled with such a sense of contentment and satisfaction, sitting there where I've sat for over six years, wishing my family were there with me-- and here they were (well, except for hubby)-- from the youngest, nestled in the crook of my arm, to the oldest on the end, head resting on his arm supported by the bench in front of him.

As I sat in silence, I reflected on where my own head was at. I felt light and happy... the somber purpose for our gathering, and the resistance thereof, was not in my range of focus. In that building, I have always felt warm and safe, and connected to like-minded people. It had been a long, dark, introspective... and self-absorbed couple of months; my energy had not at all been projected out into the world at large and for the greater good. What came to me was a refreshing reminder of the necessity of community.. for support, and, that we can only know the Divine through each other. In each of the spiritual schools of thought I draw from this holds true.. for Quakers, it is the Meeting; for Buddhists, the sangha (A Sanskrit word roughly translated to mean 'an association or company with a common goal or vision); and in pagan traditions, there is a circle, or coven. (Okay, I am sure some folks would accuse me of REALLY stretching it here, but there are socially-oriented pagan circles, and even when they gather just for magical purposes, it is with the idea of creating a sacred space, invoking the divine, and magnifying the energetic intention to create some kind of shift in the world. Am I so off-base?) Sitting there with my sons, and my friends (my Friends), I felt a small part of a much larger whole, but being in the place where I was, a very vital part... a light, a vibration, offering no resistance, only joy to be there, and with the intention for everyone I came into contact with to feel that.

Once out on the curb, with our umbrellas and signs reading, "War is Not the Answer", we were met with many supportive honking horns, and, as to be expected, some glares and screeching tires. (But it was all good.. love and light to everyone..) There were a number of exuberant teens present who would whoop and holler when a driver showed their support, and generally everyone was talking, laughing, waving to folks driving by. It was great to be there, wonderful to be with each other.. even one of the 'elders' was present, sitting in the drizzle, just behind our line, away from traffic.. a 90-year-old joyful man, and an extremely vocal advocate of the Quaker peace testimony (which sadly, nowadays, is in need of advocacy). I hardly recognized him, and he joked that being retired, he only feels compelled to dress nicely and shave on Sunday. Even my reluctant 7-year-old ended up with the sign I was holding and proceeded to work the traffic, thrusting it out emphatically when cars went by. I was so proud..

.. and so thankful to be part of it all. And whether or not our pleas for peace were heard by that small corner of our county, I like to believe that the magic created by a small group of people coming together for the purpose of ultimately spreading a message of love was felt far beyond that Route 30 curbside.