Vol 15: On Hamilton, Growth and Opinions
Happy Fourth of July from a Bajan Yankee
Welcome to Volume 15 of the Tao Out Loud newsletter where we’re finding everyday magic, every day! If you’ve come here by chance, or a friend passed this on, I hope you’ve come to stay. Sign up below so you don’t miss a thing.
Happy Fourth and all that
It’s Independence Day in the States and in the spirit of American History, I’m in the process of watching Hamilton for the first time. Yes, seven years late, but not in the least bit bothered about it. And though my husband waxed poetic about the benefits of viewing the play as it ‘should’ be experienced—on stage—I’m satisfied for now to Disney+ it.
a. It’s arguably the best seat in the house.
b. The original cast. I want to see them. (Though I hear their successors are well worth the effort).
c. The nearest showing is only offering season tickets, and I really don’t need to sit through Beetlejuice: The Musical. Convince me otherwise.
I’m looking forward to testing the hype and to researching the requisite history, to finally grasping the significance of cultural references that have flown over my head for years only to land, for example, in memes and trending audios on TikTok or Instagram.
I got as far as mid-Act-One where Angelica’s “Satisfied” rewinds to Eliza’s “Helpless” and that was it for me. I was spellbound, geeking out on the sheer intricacy of their rewind sequence and the craft of production overall: the movement, the transitions, that voluminous voice coming out of the Tony-award-winning Renee Elise Goldsberry, the lighting, the subtleties, and explaining to my ‘date’ what a young ear wouldn’t catch. The stage is where I’ve found delight for so much of my life, I could feel my face flush and heart swell with newness and nostalgia all at once . . .
But then the other boys decided to descend like drones to the mother ship and with the distraction I opted for a rewind myself. I’m going all the way from the top again. Judge thyself not me. Maybe someday we will see it live, but the fact that [I’m] alive (to see it this way) is a miracle. There goes one of those references now.
In unrelated news, a pick-me-up
On my walks I’ve spied a curiosity . . . and strangely, more than once—a plant growing blithely from an unlikely seedbed—a crack in one of the gate pillars that abound around my neighborhood. You would think a concrete crevice would mean sure death of the seed; a harsh environment unsuited to the sustenance of a young shoot. But there was that leafy stalk, demanding my attention, reaching from stone to sun and waving proudly like a Fourth of July flag. Something about that spoke to me.
Darling, you can still grow in hard places.
I see the evidence of this daily. In the questions of the friend still trying to make sense of the hand that life has dealt her, and in the eyes of another selflessly nurturing an ailing loved one. It’s in the palms of my sweet girl holding way too much—uncertain if she will ever truly be relieved of the weight, and in the strength of another awaiting an outcome she’s not sure will actually come. I watch us navigate our seasons of life and understand that there’s grace for growth in tight, tough, starved, and dry spaces, no matter how it feels right now.
We grow by allowing ourselves to get rooted. I’m reminded of Matthew 13:5-6 NIV: “Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.” As the elements take their position and give what they’re supposed to ‘gave’, we too must make the decision that we aren’t giving up without a fight, and we’re getting every resource God has for us amidst the rocks.
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Ephesians 3:17–19 ESV
The seed feels like it’s buried but eventually, it sprouts! And its roots must become opportunists. With new cell growth and root system development, root hairs as feelers seek out paths of least resistance. Once they find a fissure, root tips can push deeper into the slab to establish the plant and prepare a way for nutrients to not just enter but remain.
The situations working against us might also be working for us. When seeds fall into these rifts, for all their prohibition from ‘ideal’ environs, there’s a protection that happens simultaneously. The mockingbirds must now browse elsewhere for their midday meal. Florida’s flash-flooding can’t sweep the seed out to the Everglades. Lodged in the cleft of the rock it finds sweet salvation, and therein is the chance for it to thrive where it’s been trapped. Could it be we benefit from an ad hoc security due to, not just despite, our circumstances?
Tough ecosystems reveal the toughness of the organisms found there. The thing that could have taken you out, hasn’t. That’s a testament to the God who keeps you, but it’s also a measure of power under pressure. When you yet thrive under hard or hostile conditions, it really proves the mettle you’re made of.
Growth is not dependent on an ideal environment, nor is it guaranteed. So, don’t worry about the greener grass by the neighbor’s garden bed, or stress about the peculiar sod you’ve been served. Let’s learn to love the process—or at least make peace with it—work what you’ve got, and don’t wait for permission to stretch to the sunlight.
Red, white and blue make this color
Speaking of plant growth, if you know me, there are very few of these letters that will escape without something purple or something flowering or some combination of the two. It’s so important to fill your tank with what thrills you. Don’t be afraid to love yourself with the little pleasures and treasures that lift you. So, I will leave you with this photo study of the Queen Crepe Myrtle, on regal display in South Florida. I’ve been trying to land on a precise shade name for these purple blossoms. For now I’m working with heliotrope, but I’m open to opinions.
The beautiful thing about opinions I’ve discovered is that they are just that. Not gospel, nor truth necessarily, but a viewpoint shaped by someone else’s experience . . . which isn’t automatically more valuable than yours, no matter how much it’s worth to them or you. Isn’t that a relief? That means you don’t have to make their opinion your own (or if you care to you certainly can); it means your feelings don’t necessarily have to follow or fold. Once it’s still opinion, yours and theirs can happily co-exist. There’s nothing better than a mind at work, and that dear friends is freedom (and another neatly placed Hamilton reference). Happy Independence Day!
There’s magic in the mundane, just waiting to be unearthed. Thanks for listening to a little of mine. I know these letters are sporadic at best but my love for you all is constant. Chao for now. Tao
This was really good Tao!
I sooooooo love this!!! Waw! We Grow by allowing ourselves to be rooted!!!