Friday, September 16, 2016
Back in 2001 I wrote a little
collection of prose poems based on the Chinese classic, the Tao Te Ching. The name of the collection
was The Tao of Musicianship,
addressed not only to musicians, but to all of us who have music in our hearts.
This morning, as I was praying for inspiration for today’s reflection, my gaze
was directed towards this little book. Today I offer you the first poem in the
series, again encouraging you to take what resonates with you and to leave the
rest aside for now. And so, here it is:
Together we
share experiences
that cannot be put into words.
Trying
to describe such moments
we lose them
like one trying to grasp a wisp of cloud.
Do you find
this to be true at times?
The most beautiful, the most precious,
the most splendid,
the music that makes life luminous
is
tarnished in the telling.
Try to describe
that phrase
where suddenly
the veil between heaven and earth was rent,
and you joined the choirs of heaven in
concert:
It cannot be
done: in frustration, you end up doubting
whether is ever
really happened.
Try to
tell another of the joy you find in the lover,
and you desecrate that love.
Talk of the
ecstasy you have in your song
to one who’s
not tasted life’s depths,
and
you will be judged, not understood,
and your bliss will flee lest it be
wounded.
‘Tis a mystery,
this gift (as all great gifts are),
that
blows where it will,
eluding description,
eluding manipulation.
It can be
savored, but it cannot be evoked.
It can be
tasted only when we do not chase it
or want it or lay claim to it.
It happens only
when we have forgotten these things,
and give ourselves to the music,
open and empty,
without baggage or foothold,
allowing
the flow of the song
to take us where
it will.
When it is
there,
it leads us to what is eternal,
and true, and good,
given, not
taken,
cherished,
but not captured.
© 2001,
Bede Gary Camera, O.S.B.
God bless you!
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