A Carol of Joy
We can exercise our freedom of choice at any time.
In 2007, Dan Forrest set to music Eileen Berry’s poem Carol of Joy, creating a gorgeous, moving Christmas carol.
Forrest and Berry are Christians; naturally, their carol uses traditional Christian language and metaphors with which they are at home. Yet, I believe there is a universal appeal in their carol.
Green leaves all fallen, withered and dry;
Brief sunset fading, dim winter sky.
Lengthening shadows,
Dark closing in;
Then, through the stillness, carols begin!Oh fallen world, to you is the song–
Death holds you fast and night tarries long.
I live in a rural area surrounded by forest. The very first leaves start to fall in mid-August; I begin to observe the days becoming noticeably shorter and allow myself to experience the poignancy of nature's rhythms on a visceral level.
“Oh fallen world”—one need not be religious to be aware of rampant madness in the world. In the 20th century alone, hundreds of millions of individuals were slaughtered in useless wars and by power-mad despots who enslaved, murdered, and starved their people. Today, we are again hurling towards destruction.
“To you is the song”— the Love we did not create plays no favorites. The song of God, Wholeness, Universal Intelligence, or whatever words one is comfortable using, is available to each of us. Our choice is to pivot, or not to pivot, in its direction. We can exercise our freedom of choice at any time.
Isn’t that power to choose worth everything?
On Friday, I posted this essay about Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations. Aurelius was not a Christian, but he describes the same fundamental choice one can make to act in accord with Nature (his word).
Mindfully seeing we have a choice, we can engage in a process that lasts a lifetime. Or we can mindlessly behave like amoeba merely responding to stimuli.
In my experience, my ego is always with me when I look for it. Moment by moment, I decide to turn toward my ego or “the song.” I use the word ego often, and few people do not immediately know what I mean. We all have much experience with the incessant voice in our head offering dysfunctional interpretations and guidance. The ego resists life in a futile attempt to control its world. We all have suffered as we have followed its terrible advice.
Pale moon ascending, solemn and slow;
Cold barren hillside, shrouded in snow;
Deep, empty valley veiled by the night;
Hear angel music—hopeful and bright!Oh fearful world, to you is the song–
Peace with your God, and pardon for wrong!
Tidings for sinners, burdened and bound–
A carol of joy– A Saviour is found!Earth wrapped in sorrow, lift up your eyes!
Thrill to the chorus filling the skies!
Look up sad hearted—witness God's love!
Join in the carol swelling above!
“Oh fearful world”—we cannot help but be fearful when we rely on our ego, the part of us that is separated from the Reality of life. In her wonderful book Coming to Life, Polly Berends uses the term Fundamental Mind for God. She writes:
To start the day or go from any situation to another without prayerfully acknowledging one's reliance on Fundamental Mind is like trying to drive your car without starting it. If you have a hole in the floor and very strong legs, maybe you can walk your car around like a kiddie car and make it look as if it is really running. But you won't get anywhere, except to the hospital with a hernia.
“A Saviour is found”—this statement may be off-putting for those who are not religious. Yet there is universality here, too. When we lose ourselves listening to the voice of our ego, we must choose to turn away from its guidance. In the Western world, Jesus is a symbol of one who chose not to accept the falsehoods of the ego as truth. No matter how persistently we choose our ego, Love waits on our welcome. To each of us the “song” is given. We don't have to earn the song; we don't have to deserve the song; we have to value it above the misery of choosing to be separated from it.
A Course in Miracles uses the metaphor of remembering the song in this beautiful way:
Listen, --perhaps you catch a hint of an ancient state not quite forgotten; dim, perhaps, and yet not altogether unfamiliar. Like a song whose name is long forgotten, and the circumstances in which you heard completely unremembered. Not the whole song has stayed with you, but just a little wisp of melody, attached not to a person or a place, or anything particular. But you remember, from just this little part, how lovely was the song, how wonderful the setting where you heard it, and how you loved those who were there, and listened with you… Listen, and see if you remember an ancient song you knew so long ago and held more dear than any melody you taught yourself to cherish since.
Warm wishes for a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year.
I’ll take a bit of a holiday break from posting, and I will return next weekend with the top ten Mindset Shifts posts of 2023, as computed by Substack.
Reader support and encouragement are deeply appreciated.
A beautiful carol and thank you for posting with your, as ever, thoughtful and uplifting words, Barry. In wishing you the very best for the festive season, I would like to return the compliment and send you a link to one of my favourite carols, 'Jesus Christ, The Apple Tree.' The music was composed by my mother's cousin, Elizabeth Poston (my mother was Frances Grace Poston), so I admit a degree of bias but I hope you enjoy it as much as we do. :-)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Uz2KTOsuAQ
P.S. I believe it is known in the USA as well as this side of the pond.
A lovely meditation. Listening to your inner memory of that sweet song, elusive yet containing everything of hope and life. Have a splendid Christmas.