Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Spirit Expression
When you work you are a flute through whose
heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
. . . And what is it to work with love? It is to
weave the cloth with threads drawn from your
heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that
cloth . . .
- - - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
. . . And what is it to work with love? It is to
weave the cloth with threads drawn from your
heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that
cloth . . .
- - - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
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2 comments:
I meant to share with the group that a few week ends ago, I went to a Native American flute workshop. It was a gift from somebody for whom I did two healing sessions -- a great gift indeed as it allowed me to start connecting differently with the Native American spirits through the beautiful flute I now have and the music we play together.
I am planning to bring her to Sedona (she will be close to her home town as she was hand made in Patagonia, AZ) and hoping to work with her more to deepen our connection.
Also, I will be in France the first two weeks of July and plan to bring back a small drum (djembé) from Senegal I have there (I used to play drums in Haiti and West Africa); I have thought that it would be a way to (re)connect my current path with my previous connections. I will bring both the flute and the djembé at our next gathering in the Fall!
Let's be a hole in the flute and the skin on the drum that Spirit's breath and touch moves through!
There are many translations of Rumi's "Song of the Reed" Here is the first part of one, which shares a flute's story:
Translation by Lewis, 200
1. Listen
as this reed
pipes its plaint ***
unfolds its tale
of separations:
2. Cut from my reedy bed ***
my crying
ever since
makes men and women
weep
3. I like to keep my breast
carved with loss ***
to convey
the pain of longing --
4. Once severed
from the root, ***
thirst for union
with the source
endures
5. I raise my plaint
in any kind of crowd ***
in front of both
the blessed and the bad
6. For what they think they hear me say, they love me -- ***
None gaze in me my secrets to discern
7. My secret is not separate from my cry ***
But ears and eyes lack light to see it.
8. Not soul from flesh
not flesh from soul are veiled, ***
yet none is granted leave to see the soul.
9. Fire, not breath, makes music through that pipe -- ***
Let all who lack that fire be blown away.
10. It is love's fire that inspires the reed ***
It's love's ferment that bubbles in the wine
11. The reed, soother to all sundered lovers -- ***
its piercing modes reveal our hidden pain:
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