Music; The Light & Language Within
A shadow moved over the mountain,
running off the heat hanging so heavy in the air. The brutal summer
was starting to calm down. Small moths from the night still clung to
the mosquito netting over the door. The lantern was cold, sitting in
silence on the nightstand. A gust of chilly rain poured down over the
little cabin in the woods, ordering everyone into their nests for
awhile. The birds took shelter under thickets, and raccoons stayed
banked in their deep dens. The woman of the wood settled her wild
heart and poured a warm beverage to take the chill off her skin.
There's a rhythm to it; these messages
received from the depths of this place. They're strict, clear, and
are in constant movement according to all that exists in this
impressive coalition of life and death, action and rest; the unified
dance of all that is. To denounce our connection to it is to rip a
child away from its mother. It sets up a dysfunctional cycle that
will last until we find our way back. It's cold and wet this morning.
The creek is in her serious, busy mood, cooling down the earth and
its heated root systems, preparing for the season of sleep. The
springs in her belly are icy and fresh, killing off toxins and
healing the skins of river stones. The sky is laying down a clean,
filtered atmosphere, much easier to breathe than the fiery heat that
squeezed our breath over the summer. Something that has no humanly
comprehensible explanation whispers to me through the flow of the
water. It talks to me through the actions of wildlife, and through
the music of what I hear coming through the deliberate stirring of
the wind as it plucks the leaves of the trees like the strings of a
harp. Rain only amplifies this orchestrated grace.
For one who's never heard the songs of
the mountain, it's a composition to be respected. It's more than a
couple of unidentifiable noises coming from the throats of unseen
critters in the wood. The water itself is a tune that never stops; it
takes its audible rushing and winds through culverts and around
earthen walls. It rushes down with gravity into pools and spreads
out, forever searching for new highways. The wood has its own
section, with whistles, rattles and chimes; creating such a
complicated system of sound that you don't know where half of it's
coming from. Wind courses through, lending its hand to the flow of
the water and the brush of the trees. And the creatures with eyes!
Buzzing and chanting; the crickets alone keep a steady mantra before
frogs move in with their harmonies in what seems like some
miraculous timed performance. Layers of birds begin filling in
spaces, and any solo coming from the throats of larger beasts
literally echo across the hills. It's the most astonishing thing in
the world to me, the music of the mountain. It's so dynamic it pulls
at a hundred emotions at once. I'm captivated, stricken,
startled, calmed, excited and yearning for more. And as my heart is
wound onto the strings of this melody and I'm drawn up into its
verse, my spirit recognizes which way to fly. It always begins with the
song.
Music is the most powerful language I
know. You instinctively understand its message without words, and it
takes you past that limited space where belief only lives in tangibles
and in what physical, imperfect eyes want to anxiously explain
away. It is forever there, rising up through the depths of earth and
across the highest peaks, singing to us every single day and night.
If we can't hear it, then we've deafened ourselves to the oldest and
wisest conversation in existence. Music is life and it is death. It's
everything. There is nothing- absolutely nothing, that can ever take
its place. Those who want to continue to conjure it with their
instruments and their voices must keep this connection moving in
order to retain that power and captivate others in a magical kind of
joining. Losing influence in the composition of music happens when
its maker has strayed from that honesty; that thing that keeps their
heart wound in unison with what's natural. But it's easy to come back
and tap into this symphony when we remember how much we're caressed
by the songs of night, nature and beast. It's easy to begin hearing
the melodious lyrics and the messages behind them, guiding your hands
and your soul. It's like coming home.
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