Rise Up Babylon

I think my mother felt Ms. Lauren’s absence as much as I did. 

Mom was struggling to shield Annie and me from my father’s quickening temper. A temper that exploded like a firecracker with only the tiniest irritation. With David away at Stanford Law School and Susan at UC Berkeley, Annie and I absorbed a larger portion of Dad’s toxic spillover, but together she and I escaped regularly to my forest for reprieve. We’d run the trail to the woods as if being chased by a mountain lion. Upon entering the grove, we’d lift our heads high to the sky, letting out a huge roaring sound, which was usually followed by uncontrollable laughter. That’s how I coped with my father’s poison through high school.

In the middle of my senior year I was awarded a music scholarship to UCLA. Even the thought of reuniting with Ms. Lauren saved me. On moving day, my father was busy with work so Mom and Annie drove me to campus. We’d just started unpacking my bags when there was a soft knock on the open door. Mom erupted with joy as she hugged Ms. Lauren. Just being near my teacher again, I felt the little light inside me reignite, growing and pulsing like a golden flame. 

Mom and Ms. Lauren organized my closet while Annie and I hung photographs and posters above one of three desks in the small room. Ms. Lauren hugged each of us before returning to her office. Then Mom put sateen sheets on my bottom bunk, which would be my only private space for the next three quarters.

Our goodbye was excruciating, with Mom’s gentle weeping and Annie pouting through her tears, “I’ll never forgive you for leaving me!” I apologized profusely with my own tears spilling onto the shoulder of Annie’s sweatshirt. Looking down, I saw that Mom was tenderly holding her hand. As they drove away together, through the open window Annie’s sweet voice joined my mom’s on the rising wind, “I love you, always and forever!” I, too, sang out our signature phrase as they rounded the corner.

Then I was alone.

But a fresh beginning awaited me, and that new sonata would be composed with my roommates, Kimi and Hali’a. Like me, they were both attending UCLA on a music scholarship.

Hali’a was born and raised on the North Shore of Kaua’i. She was soft and feminine, with chocolate eyes and smooth, brown skin. Her breathy voice floated over her dreamy guitar strumming, as she sang of lush green mountains and the vibrant ocean reefs of her native Hawaii. Hali’a was also an accomplished dancer. When her graceful hands weren’t strumming a guitar or ukulele, they were storytelling through hula and modern movement.

Kimi was born in the Lakota Nation. She embodied transformation like her name, Kimimila, meaning butterfly in Lakota. Her mother, from the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, passed away when she was only nine. Kimi lived with her father in Chicago, but she spent every summer at the Standing Rock Reservation. There she learned Lakota ways from her Unci, her grandmother. Kimi’s songs told regenerative tales -- of the land and her people. Whether playing complex counterpoint on a drum kit or heart-like beats on percussion, Kimi’s art was hypnotic.

The three of us developed a deep connection in Ms. Lauren’s classroom by discovering the music within each other. We told our personal stories through our songs, and we found truth in our similarities despite our diverse upbringing.

“You each have a song inside you.” Ms. Lauren began every lecture with a soliloquy about the universal power of music. “Let your voices ring out like a dawn chorus, announcing the arriving light! It is time for a renaissance!”

Ms. Lauren suffused our souls with the belief that each of us, like every living thing, has its own distinctive sound to play in our one-world orchestra. 

I believed Ms. Lauren then, and now I know it with assurity -- the world doesn’t need another violent revolution! No, what we need is a renaissance. 

Renaisssance

I want a renaissance to shine a light

Be the change we want, set things right

We’ve been waiting in the dark For so long

I want awakening in my heart

Hear the angels sing and shine a spark

We’ve been sleeping in the dark for so long

But I believe in truth

Guess I’m not so unlike you

‘Cause there’s a sound like music

In you trying to get out

So let it sing through everything

That is you now

I want a miracle of my own

I’ve been hiding here alone for so long

But I believe it’s true

I believe it is true

That I’m not so unlike you 

I am like you

‘Cause there’s a sound like music

In you trying to get out

So let it sing through everything

That is you now

We are many voices ringing in the dawn

Only through our choices can freedom carry on

We are many voices singing hope along

With our very own songs

There is a sound like music

In you dying to get out

So let it sing through everything, through everything

And let it sing through everything, through everything

So let it sing through everything

That is you now

I want a renaissance

We’ve been sleeping in the dark for too long