Totems to Time: .....Christmas trees -and- Jury duty

Each year it’s a dilemma to decide whether we put up the Christmas tree and wonder and wander around the concept of what the season will bring. If we dive head on into the task of building the tree – at some point I usually find myself lamely lying on the couch, gazing at the dazzling lights, as they and many memories flicker off and on. The tree becomes for me a totem-to-time.... a monument to the passing of each year, each event and each up or down memory of this more than roller coaster ride of life. They say when we die, our lives flash before us ---- in an instant. Christmas trees hold this same shamanistic power over me in the continued flickering flash of lights, stories and space we’ve shared time after time, after time.

This year, we did not put up the tree, but the shamanic power of the season still flowed all around me with flickering moments of memories relived and the rhythmic pulse of the passing of time ----- tick, tick, ticking away. The event list this year is: my partner’s parents are literally "moving" through the event of relocating from their home of 30 years to a retirement community, the elder client I care for is dying, and to top every thing off – I had to do jury duty! -----Talk about flickering and flashing!

The time-travel of memory started with the continual Christmas music on the radio and ended with the surreal “honor” of jury duty. It was the song “Drummer Boy” that jump started the journey. I sank into reliving the first time I’d not only heard, but sang this song. I was nine years old. My mom had just died and I was living with my Aunt and Uncle. My Uncle was the cantor of the Byzantine Catholic church in downtown Gary, Indiana. One of the greatest gifts at that time was the chance to sing --- daily!
We were in the church choir, we went to Catholic Slavic chant filled liturgy everyday and we had the tumultuous task of the yearly Catholic school Christmas play. That first year in this new chapter of my life, we learned the song “The Drummer Boy”. It contains a perfect story line for a lone child lost in confusion, to recognize, reach out and receive a love that cradles and comforts what is common in all of us. The nine year old then, and the 55 year old now, sank into the shoes of the drummer boy; looking for connection and finding it right in front of us. The memory literally warmed my soul, inside and out.

My in-laws put up the totem-to-time Christmas tree for the last time in this chapter of their lives. Everyone flew in, drove in and gathered in this longtime common space, which was shortly to become an uncommon time, space and place. People sat in the flickering lights, unwrapping the gifts of responding heavily or lightly with what to do!

What to do or not do, with the tree, the lights, and the moments and mementos shared with what only a family can or cannot share! We were together and we were apart. While we shared,....the totem-to-time tree stood patiently, dutifully and in it’s shamanic way, held the space, with a sense of honor and peace..... with or without our sense of ease.

This years time-journey marked it’s ending with my call to jury duty in the City County Building in Indianapolis, during the week of Christmas. There is nothing else like the City County building. I use to work there some 25 years ago and remember riding the elevators in this city government menagerie of day-to-day minutia played out poignantly and powerfully during each ride. I remember considering the elevators a spiritual experience one can get no where else, but via the day to day travel of the literal ups and downs of our shared daily experience. I've said many a time that "the elevators in the City County Building......... are truly a Spiritual Experience".


Every walk of humanity rode up and down together – going to and from mindless moments of office work to a day in court, bound in handcuffs and orange jump suits – everyone waiting to hear a life time of outcomes.

Today, as I rode those elevators, once again, their shamanic powers were the equal of the Christmas tree’s totem-to-time powers. I remember the first time I sat in the jury box, in the City County Building, unable to bring voice to express how I could not bare being the verbal and auditory witness to any story of violence, let alone to sit in decision about another person’s experience and destiny.

I remember the second time I sat in the jury box in the City County Building, having no problem finding the words to say that I not only could not --- but would not --- participate in resolving an execution style murder of 4 children and 3 adults. I remember having both voice and non-voice abilities as citizens of Indianapolis gathered in front of the City-County Council to stand up for the rights of gay citizens to not be hired and fired based on their sexuality. I remember the day Mike Tyson walked up the stairs to his trial for "allegedly" have raped a woman, while other men, women and myself stood outside in protest against violence towards women.

They say jury duty is an “honor”. I come from a military family and I am also a non-violent activist. I have mixed reviews of what honor means. As I sat across from the young black man on trial for armed robbery, I knew I would be able to participate in the civic duty to follow the laws that honor and protect the lives and moments we share with one another. As I sat and looked at all of us together in the courtroom, the shamanic power of the totems-to-time gathered all around us. As I gazed into the young frightened black man's eyes, I could sense the drummer boy in me and the drummer boy in him, aching to reach out for any sense of connection, but finding only a lack of neither comfort nor joy. I followed the judge’s guidance to keep close in mind, that this young man is innocent until proven guilty. Aren’t we all!!!…..but how often do we honor one another with that gift? I really do love that basic concept in our democracy!

I was not picked to sit in judgment of this young man. The judge told me I could go home before noon and reminded us all – we had not wasted our day. We were free to go.

The chapter and story ended for us, but was only beginning for him. We shared a few moments together, but for some totem-to-time reason this young man was added to the stories that come in the moment-to-moment flow of our entwining connections. I don’t know why some things happen, but if I can recognize each experience as a gift to unwrap, I am happy to have sat peacefully in any moment to moment totem-to-time.

I wish you all comfort and joy where ever you may sit during this quiet winter moment -- Perhaps listening to the words of a radio Christmas song whether it reminds you of the Divine, or the Divine in a person sitting next to you - as I remember the innocent memory of a song to share with you:

So to honor him.

I have no gift to bring….to lay before a king.

Shall I play for him?

Mary nodded.......the ox and lamb kept time.

I played my best for Him.

Then, he smiled at me.

Me………. and my drum.

Here's to honoring one another, moment to moment!

--Thank you!