Uni-Verse: One Sound - Fred LaMotte

"Om is the primordial word.  All that is, was, or will be is Om."

Mandukya Upanishad

"Adau Bhagavan shabda rasahi: In the beginning, the Lord
created the cosmos through a subtle stream of sound."

Rig Veda

Creation is sound.  The universe is sound.  The subtle essence
of light shines in darkness as sound.  Each star has a sound.
Every galaxy is a revolving chord, the harmony of a trillion
worlds.

The atoms of your body are chimes.  Each cell of your body is
a carillon.  Your music vibrates into my sound-body, mine into
yours.  Both are intermingled with that galactic harmony, the
gong of planets.  Our subatomic counterpoint trembles and
dances over the scale of humanity, and humanity's music co-
mingles in the cosmic chorus of angels.

You are a ringing bell.  Who struck you?  Even from a thousand
miles away, I am touched by the song of your body.  Each cell
of my flesh feels and recognizes your key, your rhythmic signature.
The memory of you brings a blue note, a minor seventh, a raga
into my inward ear.

My heart is a receiver of your elegy, and a transmitter of my own
love song.  Inside the ribs of every man and woman, the hollows
of a well-carved instrument resonate, softly playing notes
deeply personal, yet pervading the universe.

With the vibrant sound of our minds, we contribute to the
harmony of All, or we grind out dissonance.  The most
important question we can ask at any moment is, "Do my
thoughts right now create harmony on earth, or disharmony?"
Harmonious thoughts expand creation, bringing light out of
darkness.  Cynical or hateful thoughts unravel creation and
contract our energy, preventing waves of music from
manifesting as light.

We are each a unique resonance of grace notes.  Are you a
morning or an evening raga?  Are you the music of the wind
or rain?  A brook of Spring rain murmuring in the desert?  The
song of melting snow high above tree line, chanting under
stones?  Are you the sound of moonbeams falling softly on the
petals of an amaranth hibiscus, changing their color to burgundy?

The day will come, and now is here, when you will wake in the
morning stunned by a symphony of blossoms, polyphony of sun
and dew.  The day will come, and is now here, when medicine
will be music, and songs will heal us.  The day will come, and
now is here, when listening to vibrations of mantras, O most
silent melody in the ancient brain, will dissolve the mind of
war into pure love.

The day will come, the day is here, when you long for the
Beloved, O nakedness more intimate than form; you merely
call the Beloved's most secret name, and the Beloved is
with you, nearer than this breath!

Fred LaMotte
Uradiance

~

Photo - via Uradiance