The music

Sometimes I hear the music that comes from living things. Sometimes I hear it from things that most people don’t consider to be alive – like the soil, or a storm. I often hear the music of babies and young children, and once in a while, when I’m not trying to, I hear other people too. Sometimes I can tell if someone is not well because their music is off rhythm or out of tune. On a couple occasions, someone’s music has been so “off” that it hurts my throat, my chest, and my stomach. I have found that singing and praying helps me feel better when this happens.

Last night, before going to bed, I stood looking through a window at the field south of our house, and I think, for just a moment, I heard the music of the whole area around me. And it was off. Many voices were missing. There were holes in the rhythm sometimes.

This is bad news, and I have been afraid that I would hear it if I listened closely enough. Hearing it did not hurt me as I thought it might, maybe because I also heard the trees. The voices of trees can be almost like an opiate, maybe like the chemical in mother’s milk that makes babies’ lids droop into sleep. In the voices of some trees, there is a peace in that surpasses understanding. They are true ministers.

I heard other voices too, and I didn’t know where they came from. They were so strong, and so beautiful, and so whole. Maybe I was experiencing some of the love of God as I looked across the field and heard the news of suffering and death in the land. I am grateful for that comfort, because without it, my grief and fear would be deep.