From Little Things Big Things Grow
The solidarity of shared songs
Sometimes, you float a little acorn of an idea out into the universal current and it comes back to you as a fully grown oak, transformed and transformative. That happened to me this week.
In the last edition of this newsletter, I mentioned Sister Helen’s Justice Train playlist (also on Spotify) and asked for your contributions to this communal pool of solidarity and support expressed through music: protest songs, anthems, prayers, spirituals.
The result was more than I expected.
Reports from the tracks
As well as a healthy trickle of songs that came in, I received messages from people saying how much the Justice Train means to them.
Like this, from Alejandro:
I really needed you. I am a child of the sixties and was involved in movement building and civil rights. I am also a Trans man who is an activist fighting for our very existence. All the music keeps me going.
And this, from Faye:
The Train is all I listen to in the car or when I am walking.
And then there’s Leah’s story:
Thank you so much for collating this splendid collection of songs. I just found this playlist, and am slowly making my way thru. Finding this process as nourishing and hopeful, too.
You can see [from my comment on ‘Bread and Roses’] I am just on 'b'! I appreciate your reading my comments and updating Bread and Roses. And also, noticing that I was remiss in leaving out Joan Baez—egads; she gave such visibility (hearability?!?) to her sister Mimi's version.
That song holds a special place in my heart, and in my family's story. I raised 2 daughters in MA, where the history of the Lowell strike, which B&R references, is still well known. Pat Humphries and Emma's Revolution were mainstays in our home's soundscape.
My older daughter worked on an urban farm during high school. While there, she organized food delivery for Bostonians with food insecurity; she included flowers with each share. And yup, she dubbed it the Bread & Roses project. Wrote college essays about it.
That was half her life time ago. Nowadays, she is a labor lawyer! I have never doubted the power of a song! Thought you might enjoy this bit of our family's story.
We set the Justice Train running on the rails almost eight years ago, and it’s not often that we hear whether it’s been of use, so hearing these stories from out of the blue was like a balm. It’s wonderful to know that the Justice Train is doing good work, especially now when solidarity and resilience are tools we all need to hone.
Broken Open
One of the songs submitted this week is Plowshare Prayer, by Spencer LaJoye. Thanks to Dan T. for submitting it.
I was so ready for this song. It came along and walloped me. Broke me open. Unlocked something deep.
Have you ever had a song do that to you?
I think this prayer song is perfect for our times. I asked Spencer if it was okay to share it with you, and they said yes. I’ve put it on the Justice Train, but I want to include it here, too.
Plowshare Prayer
Dear blessed creator, dear mother, dear savior
Dear father, dear brother, dear holy other
Dear sibling, dear baby, dear patiently waiting
Dear sad & confused, dear stuck & abused
Dear end of your rope, dear worn out & broke
Dear go it alone, dear running from home
Dear righteously angry, forsaken by family
Dear jaded & quiet, dear tough & defiant
I pray that I’m heard
And I pray that this works
I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword
Against you & your heart
Against you & your word
I pray that this prayer is a plowshare of sorts
That it might break you open
It might help you grow
I pray that your body gets all that it needs
And if you don’t want healing
I just pray for peace
I pray that your burden gets lighter each day
I pray the mean voice in your head goes away
I pray that you honor the grief as it comes
I pray you can feel all the life in your lungs
I pray that if you go all day being brave
That you can go home, go to bed
Feeling safe
I pray you’re forgiven. I pray you forgive
I pray you set boundaries & openly live
I pray that you feel you are worth never leaving
I pray that you know I will always believe you
I pray that you’re heard
And I pray that this works
Amen on behalf of the last & the least
On behalf of the anxious, depressed & unseen
Amen for the workers, the hungry, the houseless
Amen for the lonely & recently spouseless
Amen for the queers & their closeted peers
Amen for the bullied who hold in their tears
Amen for the mothers of little Black sons
Amen for the kids who grow up scared of guns
Amen for the addicts, ashamed & hungover
Amen for the calloused, the wisened, the sober
Amen for ones who want life to be over
Amen for the leaders who lose their composure
And amen for the parents who just lost their baby
Amen for chronically ill & disabled
Amen for the children down at the border
Amen for the victims of our law & order
I pray that you’re heard
And I pray that this works
I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword
Against you & your heart
Against you & your word
I pray that this prayer is a plowshare of sorts
Words and music: Spencer LaJoye
Sometimes being broken open is a relief.
Old struggles, new struggles
Playing through the tracks on the Justice Train, I regularly come across songs that feel providentially apt.
One of those is From Little Things Big Things Grow, a song from my Australian homeland, written by Kev Carmody and Paul Kelly.
It celebrates a crucial moment in the struggle for indigenous land rights, when the Gurindji people who were forced to work in poor conditions on their own traditional land, staged the Wave Hill Walk-off, led by Vincent Lingiari.
It speaks to how patient, collective action can overcome implacable opposition by the powerful.
That was the story of Vincent Lingiari
But this is the story of something much more
How power and privilege cannot move a people
Who know where they stand and stand in the lawFrom little things big things grow
I’ll leave the last song to Arlo
I’ll finish with one last recommendation (because once you start, it’s hard to stop.)
I recommend you turn the volume up, let Arlo Guthrie get prepare you with one of his classic intros, and then join in full throated. No matter if you’re by yourself; it’ll still transport you.
And although it’s not what you’d call a typical protest song, as Arlo says in his inimitable style:
I learned a little bit about what folk songs was about and even what they’re not about.
For sometimes, they’re not even about anything.
For here we were, singing an old Elvis tune that didn’t have much to say about the state of the world or something like that, but more was being said by who was singing it and how they were feeling than trying to sing lots of songs that try to say a whole lot of stuff.
The song?
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Thank you for writing so beautifully about how important music is to our psyches, our communities, our spirits and spirituality, and our emotional wellbeing.
The voice we need now — thank you