Everything is Music

Our whole life truly is a song … one endless melody sung with the heart.

Each year, each month, each day, each moment … is a part of this song we have come here to sing. And this sweet Heart song, holding both the pleasure and the pain, the good and the bad, the highs and the lows … all of it, absolutely all of it, is part of this divine manifesting. And, we aren’t simply practicing to sing it … we are actually singing this song with every breath we take.

In all its mystery, the events in our lives can, at times, appear as chaotic and seemingly without rhyme or reason, without purpose, yet …  in every moment, we are actually playing each note of the eternal melody. This Heart song is this very life we are living, this life … from beginning to end, filled with days of connection and disconnection, knowing and confusion … all following the natural blueprint that our hearts were birthed with when we entered these bodies in this lifetime.

So, how is your song sounding today?

If joyous … good.

If not … fine.

Practicing the Way of the Third Patriarch is actually a beautiful Heartsong in itself:

If you wish to see the truth

then hold no opinions for or against anything.

To set up what you like against what you dislike

is the disease of the mind.

When the deep meaning of things is not understood,

the mind’s essential peace is disturbed to no avail.


The Way is perfect like vast space

where nothing is lacking and nothing in excess.

Indeed, it is due to our choosing to accept or reject

that we do not see the true nature of things.

If we step back a bit and attune to the currents that flow through us in our daily lives, we meet the possibility of discovering that just where we are … Joy is available. In fact, this Joy is the “true nature of things” … the very music that sings through us moment by moment. It’s our true essence and if we make the time, the music in our hearts can be heard and will raise us Home.

Here’s Rumi’s invitation to listen with the ear of the Heart:

We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.

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

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, wanting

They derive from a slow
and powerful root
that we cannot see.

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