The Song of the Sky

Did you know the whole universe is singing?  Everything that moves vibrates, and every vibration causes sound waves.  Even stars have their own radio signals.  However, I like the way the Bible puts it, in Psalm 19:

  

The heavens are telling the glory of God;

 and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.

Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard;

yet their voice goes out through all the earth,

and their words to the end of the world.

In them he has set a tent for the sun,

which comes forth like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,

and like a strong man runs its course with joy.

 Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them;

and there is nothing hid from its heat.

 

I am not big on having “Beliefs,” with a capital “B.”  What I mean by that, is I’m not really willing to assume I know something so well that it’s an eternal truth.  I like to try and keep an open mind.  I don’t take anything at face value, I test and re-test.  A friend of mine in university, Myke, said that I was more “spiritual than religious,” meaning I looked for the heart of things, but didn’t really buy into the codified structure and traditions.  I think that’s what he meant, anyway.  But part of that, to me, means that I’m not going to set down my ideas in stone, at least not without a lot of reflection.

For instance:  I respect the Bible, as a work of literature, and I think it might contain some witness to the truth of reality and the nature of the universe.  But the respect, for thousands of years of effort that went into it, and the culture that produced it, is more important to me than taking it word for word.  Because I have a similar respect for the religious texts of other faiths as well.  I think they might have pieces of the truth too.  The Bible is more important to me, because of where I am culturally and geographically.  Had I been born somewhere else, I’d have a different perspective.

For another thing:  no matter how many spiritual experiences I’ve had (I guess that might be the subject of another post some day), I don’t assume that they are definitive for other people, or even meaningful.  And I don’t assume that it means God “Really Exists,” because our minds are capable of so much on their own.  We seem able to pyschosomatically convince ourselves of almost anything.  I can’t prove the Bible is true, I wasn’t there when those experiences occurred, nor was I present when it was written.  It’s a marvellous piece of literature, but on its own it is not “proof” of anything.  It’s a book.

So what do I believe, at the end of the day?  I believe that I’m connected to the universe, as my earlier post about the nature of light might indicate.  I hope that the heart of the universe is alive, and I call that hope “God.”

But here’s an idea I have about God, and why so few of us hear anything, despite the universe singing:

I watched the movie “The Horse Whisperer” in high school, with friends.  I liked the story in it about the girl reconnecting with her horse.  The love story between Robert Redford and her mom felt tacked on, and made the movie long and boring.  I only saw it because I was with a group of friends, and they really liked horses.  I would have picked something else, were I alone.

 But it showed me something, that I think is important.  Redford’s job was to help calm a horse that had been wounded, kind of a horse therapist.  But instead of training it, or talking to it, there’s a scene where he takes it to a field and lets it run by itself.  He sits at the edge of the field.  For hours.  The horse stays as far away as possible.  For awhile.  Eventually, because he’s so quiet, because he’s so still, the horse begins to believe he is safe.  He approaches the man, and the healing begins.

Our culture is so rushed, so fast-paced, I think we overlook the magic of silence and calm.  We try to “get things done,” but hard work and effort would have chased that horse away.  It would have spooked him. 

I think God is like the Horse Whisperer, and we are like the horse.  We run around, afraid of our lives and our problems, rushing to get things done.  I think God is sitting “at the edge of the field,” quietly waiting for us to wonder why, to stop still and look back, and listen.  I think that when we pray, or meditate, or find silence in our lives, we stop rushing and learn to hear the silent song of the heart of the universe.

 Sit still and listen.  Can you hear it?

 

~ by nomananisland on March 24, 2008.