I've been working gradually through my own bookshelves lately, trying to cull books where I can. That is encouraging me to read little gems like this one, which I think I must have owned since it was published. I've been a big fan of Joan Baez since I was a child, and absolutely adore her beautiful voice. Before I give this sweet little book away, I want to record some passages that I'd like to be able to go back to in the future. Here they are:
Page 94: Singing
"To sing is to love and to affirm, to fly and soar, to coast into the hearts of the people who listen, to tell them that life is to live, that love is there, that nothing is a promise, but that beauty exists, and must be hunted for and found. That death is a luxury, better to be romanticized and sung about that dwelt upon in the face of life. To sing is to praise God and the daffodils, and to praise God is to thank Him, in every note within my small range, and every color in the tones of my voice, with every look into the eyes of my audience, to thank Him. Thank you, God, for letting me be born, for giving me eyes to see the daffodils lean in the wind, all my brothers, all my sisters for giving me ears to hear crying, legs to come running, hands to smooth damp hair, a voice to laugh with, and to sing with...to sing to you and the daffodils...which are you."
Page 137: Meditation
"What we mean at the school when we say meditation is really very simple to explain. And close to impossible to do. We mean to pay attention. To pay attention, but not to concentrate, to be still, and at the same time, to let go. To stop rehearsing, stop the fantasies. Look with your eyes. I don't know what is there for you to see. Listen with your ears. Everything is alive. Sit there. You might hypnotize yourself into a kind of calm, but if it is by a process of exclusion, I'm not so sure that it doesn't close some doors which should be left open. Don't expect a thing. When you expect something, you will be disappointed...Perhaps you will begin to realize that you have only this one moment. That's all. The other moments have already left. The ones just ahead may never arrive..."
Page 145, in a chapter entitled Hour Alone
"There is a young woman sobbing under an oak tree. She knows her body is no more than a breakable twig, and will not last for very long. But she has just heard an answer to a question that she wasn't even aware of having asked...She is indestructible. Something of her...belongs to the always present, always fleeting, minute-by-minute process which is eternity."
Page 178: History Book
"Perhaps there will be another century of living things...children and green grass, summer insects and old people...not a burned-out planet floating about the universe, forsaken as a windy moon crater. If, by God's sudden grace, and a chain of miracles, a new intelligence, and a tremendous effort, we survive the nuclear age and 1967 is a page in some future child's history book, the page might look something like this...'By the middle of the twentieth century men had reached a peak of insanity. They grouped together in primitive nation-states, each nation-state condoning organized murder as the way to deal with international differences. Between 1914 and 1960, one hundred and fifty million people had died as a result of wars and violent revolutions. Some of the larger nations spent as much as 83 percent of the national budget to build weapons which everyone agreed were too destructive ever to be used. In spite of the fact that violence had failed to bring the things that men said they longed for --peace, freedom (which means "peace and love"), a brotherhood of man, etc., men continued to cling to violence...When the concept of organized nonviolence was first introduced it was, naturally, misunderstood and rejected for many years, its proponents written off as unpatriotic, unrealistic, idealistic, evil, or just plain crazy...'"
I'm very happy I reread this little book.