Cross-Training Body Mind Emotions Spirit | Rachael R. Resch

Rumi says, “We have fallen into the place where everything is music.”

Each organ in the human body plays its own unique music:

Heart beat rhythm, flute of bone, wind pipes of lungs and larynx, syncopation of joints, harp strings of tendon.

In Sanskrit, Nada Brahma means “the universe is made of sound.”

In physics, sound is vibration that moves through a medium creating pressure waves.  In physiology, sound is the body and the brain receiving and perceiving  those waves.

Have you ever perceived the sound of a drum or bass guitar inside your bones?  Bone is physiologically designed to respond to vibration, both the vibration of sound and the vibration of movement.

Have you ever felt, as Thoreau says:

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”

Today our Nia class focus – drawn from the basket of cards we created on New Year’s Eve – was “Move with the Music.”  Our intent was “Balance.”

Whether you are moving to a different drummer, moving to the rhythm of your own great heart beating inside your chest, moving in harmony – or in dissonance – with the sounds around you, or, as we all are, moving to the great sound of the Holy singing its own name, the invitation is to move with.

To balance inner and outer, to balance left and right brain, to balance small self and big Self, add your voice, your unique sound, to the sound of the world.

Then, we can remember we already live in the place Rumi talks about:

Where Everything is Music
by Jelaluddin Rumi
translated by Coleman Barks

Don’t worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn’t matter.

We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.

The strumming and the flute notes
rise into the atmosphere,
and even if the whole world’s harp
should burn up, there will still be
hidden instruments playing.

So the candle flickers and goes out.
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.

This singing art is sea foam.
The graceful movements come from a pearl
somewhere on the ocean floor.

Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!

They derive
from a slow and powerful root
that we can’t see.

Stop the words now.
Open the window in the center of your chest,
and let the spirits fly in and out.

 And, lastly, from that great peacemaking bard of the 20th century: