Friday, June 25, 2021


            Over the years, Delycia and I have enjoyed attending symphony concerts, and I think what I have loved most about the music is that each of the many diverse instruments plays an essential role. The harpist may have relatively few notes to play, but they are just as crucial as the numerous notes played by the violins. The tuba, with its deep, occasional sounds, plays an important part in the overall performance, as does the big bass drum with its intermittent rumbles and roars. There’s the lightness and finesse of the flutes and oboes, but there’s also the necessary and helpful heaviness of the double bass. Actually, I often think of each day as another extraordinary performance by life’s symphony orchestra. There are the lighthearted moments, when the violins of good fortune are flowing along in a carefree way, but there are always, too, the moments made by the music of disappointment and sorrow.  For every hour of satisfaction, there are usually some minutes of confusion and concern, times when the bass drums of life are sending out their shadowy sounds, and sometimes grief and goodness are singing together, making their ancient communal music.  I have to remember to stay still and peaceful and simply appreciate the music life makes. As each moment makes its special appearance, I must listen and watch for the harmonies and rhythms, must stand back and appreciate the orchestral undercurrents of this skillful universe I am part of. If there’s disappointment, I need to listen for the accompanying wisdom. If there’s sorrow, I need to know that resurgence and renewal is always close by. I’m living inside a daily symphony. There’s beauty everywhere – in darkness and light, in booms and whispers, in loudness and the ever-presence of silence. 

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