Dueling Banjos

My brother and I discovered a peculiar obsession during our childhood. We'd found a 45 record of "Dueling Banjos" — this was years before the tune bore a Deliverance stigma — and we played it incessantly. But our fascination wasn't with the song itself. It was with the ending.

Those final, triumphant, staccato banjo plucks: dah, dah-dah, dah, dah; dah, dah-dah, dah, dah; dah-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah, dummmm. The moment that last chord resonated through the speaker, we'd leap and land heavily on the floor, causing the needle to skip backward about five seconds. Then we'd listen to the ending again. And again. Jump, skip, repeat. Over and over.

We did this so relentlessly that we literally wore a deeper groove into that section of vinyl. The ending played differently than the rest — etched more profoundly into the record's surface through sheer repetition.

While "Dueling Banjos" hardly qualifies as spiritual music, those deeply carved grooves offer penetrating insight into consciousness itself.

Life experiences are like that 45 record. Every reaction we have — anger, anxiety, upset-ness, judgment — carves grooves into our awareness. Each time we act from identification with the "me" rather than respond from the stillness of presence, we deepen existing etchings or create new ones.

This explains our predictable responses. We've carved such lasting impressions that our consciousness habitually returns to familiar refrains. The critical person finds fault everywhere. The worried mind manufactures fresh anxieties. Like that worn record, we keep playing the same emotional melodies because the channels have become so deeply etched.

But here's the good news: we needn't discard the record nor purchase a new one. As A Course in Miracles reveals, "The holiest of all the spots on earth is where an ancient hatred has become a present love."

Those grooves are healed through the light of awareness. Simply witnessing our reactions — observing the anger, fear, or sadness without becoming lost in the drama — begins filling in even the deepest etchings. The more consciously we observe these repetitive patterns with gentleness and without judgment, the more the grooves dissolve into a smooth surface of serenity.

Join me in Thursday's class where we'll explore practices for transforming our most stubborn patterns and discover the freedom that emerges when old grooves finally fade. I look forward to seeing you then. Dah-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah, dummmm.