(not necessarily in that order)
Every now and then preparing Sunday service music requires non-musical skills learned in grade school, involving colored pens.
Why? Because not only does tomorrow’s song require a goodly number of singers, but we have to be in a specific formation. And that means we can’t move people around to achieve a nice distribution of colors.
Welcome to my world! 😅
Today — for the first time in six weeks — we “performed” for Sunday service at Ananda Village!
It was via the magic of video as we’re still in Sacramento, but at least we had a reason to put on jewel tones and SING.
We can’t wait to get back to singing all the time once again.
Today we sang More Boxes? No, Thank You! for Sunday service and I had a little “aha” moment while we were hamming it up during rehearsal.
Just like we don’t go all “dreamy” when we sing Life Is a Dream, we don’t actually come from our egos while singing More Boxes. (“I, my, me, mine! I, my, me, mine!” — see rest of lyrics below)
Now I’m looking forward to identifying other songs to which this insight can be applied. And that’s it for tonight!
More Boxes? No, Thank You!
(A sailor from England remarked to a foe,
“The reason we win is, We pray ere we go.”
“But we pray as well, and just look at our dead!”
“Ah, but we pray in English,” the Englishman said.)
(I, my, me, mine! I, my, me, mine!
I, my, me, mine! I, my, me, mine!
I, my, me, mine, I, my, me, mine, I, my, me, mine, I, me, mine,
I, my, me, mine, I, my, me, mine, I, my, me, mine, I, me, mine!)
I had a little box when my Lord made me,
And in that little box I did put a tree,
A pony, a teddy bear, a bright green sled:
Everything around me that my eyes did see.
How can a little box ever hold a sled,
A pony, and a tree?—puzzles your poor head?
It can’t, of course, but in a tiny baby’s mind
This whole wide world becomes a little box instead.
Well, as I grew older my box grew, too:
Held airplanes, and ships, and a birch canoe,
And school books, a foreign trip, and college proms.
Good times, and friends aplenty—yes, and also, you!
But somehow in this box would only fit one school,
One family, one country, and one social rule,
And certainly one church, for only my way’s right,
And anyone with other ways is just a fool.
Well, so I used to think, but now I must confess
At judging fools I wasn’t any great success.
Truth somehow lived without me, though I called it mine:
What box could hold the world?—it’s just preposter-ess!