The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry,
of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the
point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the
absence of a garden. If you don’t want paradise, you are not
human; and if you are not human, you don’t have a soul.
In religion and politics people’s beliefs and convictions
are in almost every case gotten at second-hand, and without
examination, from authorities who have not themselves
examined the questions at issue but have taken them at
second-hand from other non-examiners, whose opinions
about them were not worth a brass farthing.
Once upon a time, wasn’t singing a part of everyday life as much as talking, physical exercise, and religion? Our distant ancestors, wherever they were in this world, sang while pounding grain, paddling canoes, or walking long journeys. Can we begin to make our lives once more all of a piece? Finding the right songs and singing them over and over is a way to start. And when one person taps out a beat, while another leads into the melody, or when three people discover a harmony they never knew existed, or a crowd joins in on a chorus as though to raise the ceiling a few feet higher, then they also know there is hope for the world.