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<\/a>Each organ in the human body plays\u00a0its own unique music:<\/p>\nHeart beat rhythm, flute of bone, wind pipes\u00a0of lungs and larynx, syncopation of joints, harp strings of tendon.<\/p>\n
In Sanskrit, Nada Brahma means “the universe is made of sound.”<\/p>\n
In physics, sound is vibration that moves through a medium creating pressure waves. \u00a0In physiology, sound is the body and\u00a0the brain\u00a0receiving\u00a0and perceiving \u00a0those\u00a0waves.<\/p>\n
Have you ever perceived\u00a0the sound of a drum or bass guitar\u00a0inside\u00a0your bones? \u00a0Bone is physiologically designed to respond to vibration, both\u00a0the vibration of sound and the vibration of movement.<\/p>\n
Have you ever felt, as Thoreau says:<\/p>\n
“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.”<\/p>\n
Today our Nia class focus – drawn from the basket of cards we created on New Year’s Eve – was “Move with the Music.” \u00a0Our intent was “Balance.”<\/p>\n
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\u00a0around you, or, as we all are, moving to the great sound of the Holy singing its own name,\u00a0the invitation is to move with.<\/p>\n
To balance inner\u00a0and 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.<\/p>\n
Then, we can remember we already<\/em> live in the place Rumi talks about:<\/p>\n Where Everything is Music Don’t worry about saving these songs! We have fallen into the place The strumming and the flute notes So the candle flickers and goes out. This singing art is sea foam. Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge They derive Stop the words now. \u00a0And, lastly, from that great peacemaking bard of the 20th century:<\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>by Jelaluddin Rumi<\/em>
\ntranslated by Coleman Barks<\/em><\/p>\n
\nAnd if one of our instruments breaks,
\nit doesn’t matter.<\/p>\n
\nwhere everything is music.<\/p>\n
\nrise into the atmosphere,
\nand even if the whole world’s harp
\nshould burn up, there will still be
\nhidden instruments playing.<\/p>\n
\nWe have a piece of flint, and a spark.<\/p>\n
\nThe graceful movements come from a pearl
\nsomewhere on the ocean floor.<\/p>\n
\nof driftwood along the beach, wanting!<\/p>\n
\nfrom a slow and powerful root
\nthat we can’t see.<\/p>\n
\nOpen the window in the center of your chest,
\nand let the spirits fly in and out.<\/p>\n