I needed to process and honor his death, and without thinking it through, called for a vigil by a river, and suddenly it was clear that lots of folks needed it too and were going to show up. I’d done zero planning; I’d only been feeling.
These days, feelings can be plenty—if we listen to them, and let them shape and hold the spaces our bodies communally crave amid this nightmarish era.
My emotions lead me to craft a circle A out of sticks. It lead my friend @shadow_patterns to paint a portrait of Aaron, and with our friend @zoziebee, we made a DIY altar on the grass.
As twilight came, some 75 people appeared from all sides, clustering around the altar, adding flowers, hand-written notes and art, and home-baked cookies. I offered some words, then many hands lit many candles, which punctuated the now-darkness with warmth. Silence fell for some minutes, until one brave person took up my offer to share; they read a poem they’d just written. Their vulnerability encouraged others to speak from the heart. Someone lead us in learning a song to sing aloud. Ducks flew directly past us, adding their voices. A person laid down a Palestinian flag, then created a “river” on it from fabric and a “sea” with shells, lighting candles in them.
Mourning Aaron became inseparable from mourning every destroyed or lost life in Gaza. Aaron’s calculated risk and loving intentionality had woven that tight bond.
Folks lingered after the vigil, solemnly extinguishing the candles. “Hey, why don’t we leave the organic parts of the altar here, for others to see tomorrow?”
Today, Aaron’s portrait found a spot in npub1zwjsy5qy2nprkjk4hfk9nymxdue6kljmvh582ttupu4az9tf9ztsn5qx3g (npub1zwj…qx3g).
#RebelliousMourning
#UntilAllAreFree
