In less then 24 hours I will be up and away to Spain on a fantastical journey through time and space. This poem stood out to me today because it spoke to me of anicca, as well as why I have focused so much time and energy on music. My being has been tempered like wood to create sound in specific ways and I choose to direct my energy to allow for my own body to help with evolution and the impermanence, allowing for sacred rhythm to exist forever, and in nothing at the same time. The devout to sound is consciousness of the unwritten, the rest note, hinged between two worlds, that precedes change and allows it.
The Door - By Jane Hirshfield
A note waterfalls steadily
through us,
just below hearing.
Or this early light
streaming through dusty glass:
what enters, enters like that,
unstoppable gift.
And yet there is also the other,
the breath-space held between any call
and its answer -
In the querying
first scuff of footstep,
the wood owls' repeating,
the two-counting heart:
A little sabbath,
minnow whose brightness silvers past time.
The rest-note,
unwritten,
hinged between worlds,
that precedes change and allows it.
No comments:
Post a Comment