atreesvoice

What is my untold story that lays inactive? Although unsure, I must sing my song not to have answers but because I love the music. Perhaps each of our life’s journey is about listening to our song for we must hear it to sing it. My heart goes blank. The silence knows that once the melody begins the dam will break. The destruction of a beaver’s safe home is at stake. And so my ears remain deaf but my soul keeps trickling with water and the soundtrack of my life begins with that drip, drip, drip.

My untold story has trees and horses and dogs and birds and wildlife and sunshine and rain and open space and drums and singing and creeks and living and travel and laughter and flow. 

The day the dam broke, my song is to the rhythm of love. My heart beats to this chorus and flows happily up to my tongue. But there are no words there. What is love that can be spoken but a sentimental falsity? This song is greater than any words in my vocabulary. Perhaps my song, my story, doesn’t have words at all but is simply the way I live my life—filled with the love of a breeze that creates a dance among the ferns. The joy of seeing a snake warming its body in the sun. Or my own feeling of happiness while in the embrace of sunshine. The song is the life that runs through me, the expression of which is endless, wordless and beautiful beyond measure. So much so that it overcomes the linear view through which I was searching. Songs have a structure that manifest the infinite. You are the song. Even with moments or years where all stands still from the dam, the music waits for us to participate by allowing the rhythm of life to play us. Are you ready? 

This sounds like bliss and is. But there also may come sadness and pain. This was, for me, from the death of what I thought was myself. We are here to experience life as a human. With that comes an ego or personality. We need not transcend this facet of ourselves, but it is perhaps wise to unite it with our song. Before that happens, however, there is often a death of the personality who thought s/he was in charge and in control—a destruction of the dam. Sometimes personalities identify with spirit, and become just more confusion. But alas, we have the power and the wisdom to find our rhythm. I plan to go forth within my song even when notes gets misplayed and don’t sound or feel beautiful. How about you?