Cold, cold, cold, made colder by a strong wind. All night the wind blew and even with the heat running you could feel the cold easing into the house. The sky was clear, dark as it gets here, which is not often all that dark anymore, but this morning, the clear early blue is being slowly erased by high white clouds. There is nothing moving in the yard but wind-stirred leaves of the Mexican oak and the dark, oily leaves of the ligustrum, and the cane bending before it, the dance looking more like a tarantella than the usual graceful waltz. Again, the yard is bare of birds, they must have somewhere more sheltered to go with the wind is this strong and cold.
This is the day for the blessing, and there is so much to be blessed, and so much I am blessed with that sometimes I hardly know where to begin. I have been thinking this morning, due to having some experience recently with songs stuck in my head, about songs from church, hymns and songs at Christmas, and the Salve Regina we used to sing when crowing the statue of Mary with flowers. So many rituals of celebration of things holy, songs of blessing, songs of joy, there are songs in about every faith, or dances, or recitations of joyful words. I often think of Rumi when I think of joy in the world; most of his work is a celebration of the joy of sacred love and earthly love, as if the two were one and inseparable, as if joy were meant to be part of every aspect of life, of the spirit, of the mind, of the body. I would send one of his poems, but this morning I want to send this simple song, a Quaker song of joy . . .
My Life Flows On (How Can I Keep from Singing)
My life flows on in endless song above earth’s lamentation.
I hear the real though far off hymn that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife I hear the music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing!
What though the tempest ’round me roars, I know the truth, it liveth.
What though the darkness ’round me close, songs in the night it giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that rock I’m clinging.
Since love prevails in heav’n and earth, how can I keep from singing!
When tyrants tremble as they hear the bells of freedom ringing,
when friends rejoice both far and near, how can I keep from singing!
To prison cell and dungeon vile our thoughts to them are winging;
when friends by shame are undefiled, how can I keep from singing!
early Quaker song
I don't know how I can keep from singing . . . now this is a song I don't mind having stuck in my head, and with the simple repetitive tune, it does seem to get lodged there, though for the longest time I only knew the first verse, and now that I have found words for other verses, they seem just perfect for the world today, especially the last verse. How very current, with the Arab spring, with trouble in Syria, and even earlier with the demise of communism and the fall of the wall. Even in the dark of the night it is saying that darkness has its own singing, and here it is true. With the wind from the cold north, the chimes make music all night, from the cymbal-like hard-drive chime, to the deep tolling bell of the long tube chimes, and about everything in between, music from the dark, more noticeable when everything else is so quiet. Love prevails, and this is the week where we celebrate romantic love, but all love prevails. If it didn't the world would be a much more desperate place, and it would be love that was news, instead of hate or vice being the exception and so noteworthy.
My life flows on in endless song . . . music of all kinds blesses me, and love as well, for all such people in my life as I admire and give thanks for, all those I love and am loved by, for all that I am blessed with, including that my life flows on . . . how can I keep from singing!
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