a mystic dialect of OM seldom heard

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instead of a warm breeze on the first day of spring in the ripe
countryside, we receive a new world fully gift-wrapped in thick
soft heavy snow. i stand beneath my meditation tree, a
full mature hemlock whose thick branches protectively extend
all the way to the ground. they guard the inner holy chamber
here in the temple of the green sun in safe shelter valley.

most of the trees in these thick woods have already leafed out, so
when the surprise snowstorm rushes silently in during the
predawn hours, all the various trees & bushes are transformed
into strange creatures from another realm, frozen in mid-step.

but the most mesmerizing thing i notice is the sound that
the wind makes as it gusts through the trees. i have never before
heard such a sighing, murmuring whisper rushing from the play
of the wind in the snow-covered leafy branches of the trees!

i stand entranced by the untimely swirling flakes. i bask
in the sweet aloneness, soothed by the temple of the green sun.
all sound is softened, blended into the continued soughing
of the wind in the boughs of the trees. this is the time to go
deep within, to plumb down beneath the surface of the mundane
in a rare inner archeology to reveal the heart.

this is when the world pauses & i'm standing on the edge of
everything i have known, poised to take that next step forward. all
around me the white cloaked trees stand as dignified sentinels.
the wind links us in a shared meditation, giving voice
to the trees in a mystic dialect of OM seldom heard.

ah Shiva! thank You for the precious gems of memory that
we share from Your akashic records. that rare magical spring
equinox under the calm quiet cover of snow always
soothes & uplifts when i visit it. this is a sweet healing.

is that You, Shiva, whispering in my ear? or the soughing
of the wind in the snow-laden branches? or perhaps they are
really much the same thing, upon deeper reflection. You are
always guiding me towards seeing the wholeness that includes
all the parts. guide me now, Shiva, please guide me from deep within.

a murmuration of starlings

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the universe is music. everything sings its song, shaped from primal
essence & counterpointed by a sweetly unique sound signature,
unlike any other. we meet & combine our melodies into
vast dances & soaring flights of glad praise. each & every galaxy
is a grand ongoing concert of expressive communion. solar
systems join in with their own complimentary contributions, as
each planet adds its favorite riff to the cooperative mix.

with subtle inner focus, one can hear the combined glissandos of
multiple galactic groups. it's enough to strip the body away
& release the cramped spirit to rise in ecstatic jubilation
of woven sound! we phase in & out of quantum fluctuations like
drumbeats of emphasis nearing crescendo. we dissolve formlessly
in the whirling, stirring intergalactic sea of sound vibration.

let me put it this way. when i look out my window at the rising
golden sun this morning, i am pierced by the yearning of the sweetest
sound i have ever heard. it massages me inside & out, & leaves
me gasping with the fading glory of its echo. it is the song
of the Self of the sun, praising Shiva for its life & song, much as
i also do. i, too, find that i'm essentially music reaching
for a harmonic partner: for a grand interwoven chorus of
soaring harmony, sounding like a murmuration of starlings looks.

i dissolve into that wholeness & slowly, atom by atom, i
find my home at long last as the silence between sounds smooths & soothes.
this silence holds all sound in potential. everything, from galaxy
to human, eventually returns to this deep silence & leaves
the gift of its song as a testament to a shining life. Shiva
gathers up all our songs, cherishing them in perpetuity, &
He honors them for their holy origin & for our sacrifice
in the name of goodness, beauty & the fulfillment of our dharma.