My Flea Has Gods

Any ukulele player will tell you that the instrument is uniquely addictive. I play a bunch of instruments, but the uke is the only one I actually crave playing. The feeling of playing a uke approaches pure affection, not something we usually feel for inanimate objects. Which simply suggests that the instrument the Hawaiians love as "the jumping flea" is alive...

Ukulele-playing is not a mere hobby or a time-waster. For me, at least, it's a practice - akin to meditation - that becomes a daily act of devotion, as silly as that sounds. And as such, it's one of those little things that has grand consequences.

Consider this: to admit one is a ukulele player is to deepen one's sense of self-worth. At the Corktown Uke Jam, we talk about "coming out" as a uke player, only partly in jest. On the other side of the admission of obsession with a 'silly' instrument is a whole new level of ease of being.

Then there's the transcendence of sexual symbolism. Our society's become so focused on rockers with mighty phallic guitars, there's inevitably some snickering when someone starts proudly parading a pretty little instrument. But that's one of the best things about the uke: it's actually an instrument without sexual connotations; it's not a lover, but a kid. A uke doesn't need to be seduced; it just wants some attention and that pure affection I talked about. And it's oh-so-easy to give!

Give a little affection and you get something in return: if you spend a half an hour snuggling a baby or petting a puppy, you're changing your body chemistry for the better. There's no doubt in my mind that the uke has similar happy effects, which is why when we're playing we tend to be a ridiculously cheerful lot. We're high on playing uke!

But there's more going on when you sit back and strum than mere chemistry. When attention, affection, intention, and expression all come together in one place, something transcendent happens. The moment begins to deepen. Possibilities present themselves. Identity is sublimated to activity; this is when we begin to sense divinity. I'm comfortable saying that playing the uke can be a form of prayer.

We spend so much time worrying about Big Stuff: our jobs, our assets, our place society; the environment, the economy, the fate of the world. Try as we might we seldom find peace with the Big Stuff - except when we're busy with the little things.

Religious believers use mighty metaphors, fantastic frameworks, complex cosmologies to help put Big Stuff into perspective. I respect that. But I humbly submit that practice, not profundity is the most important part of any faith. If we are to be saved, it will be by our daily devotion to the little things.

Regardless of your worldview, I think you're as likely to glimpse divinity by transplanting tulips, doodling on napkins, or noodling on ukes as by chanting mantras or rubbing rosaries. You pray your way - I'll play my uke.

My Flea Has Gods!

PS CUKE closes with the Ukulele Benediction:

On Earth we strive for earthly things
And suffer sorrows daily
In Heaven, choirs of angels sing
While we play ukulele