Universal Unitarian
Church of Ogden
Sunday, March 25,
2012
10:30 AM
“I was born with music inside
me.
“Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my
heart. Like my blood. It was a force already within me when I arrived on the scene. It was a
necessity for me—
like food
or
water.”
I read these words and I know exactly what Mr. Ray Charles
was talking about. I’ve always believed
that music was an inborn part of me, something that has been singing from
within me since the time before my birth.
I imagine myself in my mother’s womb, curling up into the duple rhythm
of breathing lungs, letting the pulse of in
out, in out breathe a soft berceuse as my cells split and divided. I see my fetal self taking nourishment from
the rhythmic thump-thumping of my
first drum, her beating heart. My mother
was a pianist and taught music lessons to neighborhood kids while she was
pregnant with me. I imagine her sitting
beside her young students, her belly big and full of me inside, drinking up the
sound of hammers hitting strings. My
love affair with the keys must have its roots planted deeply somewhere in that
image.
I know what those words mean, but my understanding of those
words about the necessity of music isn’t special. Anyone can hear them and know exactly what it
is Ray Charles is saying. From the time
a person is born to the time a person dies, music accompanies every human life,
as vital a part of living as air and food and water. Whether it’s thumping from the subwoofers in
the souped up SUV pulling next to you at the stop light, or it’s the chant and
steady thwack of brightly garbed Nigerian women pounding Manioc roots into
flour, music is just there. I’ve never
questioned the fact that song is an integral part of our existence. My question has been the “Why” of music’s essential
and enduring nature. Why does music
exist in every culture throughout history?
Why does song play such an integral role in childhood and early
development? Why does music cause such
emotional and spiritual responses in us?
Why is music a necessary element of human life? I think my answers have really only led me to
more questions, but that’s the cadence of joy.
My hope is to share with you a few of the little discoveries music has
granted me.
Today’s beautiful reading was inspired by a Brian Andreas
quote I have loved for quite some time: “If there is any secret to this I life I live,
this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can. And there is nothing more to it than that.”
Think about that for a minute.
“The sound of what cannot be seen sings within
everything that can.”
Mr. Andreas suggests that sound is a bridge, a connection, a ribbon that
ties the invisible to the visible. Music
is the glue holds stuff together. I
really like that.
Thousands of years ago, Pythagorus discussed what he called
Musica Universalis, or the Harmony of
the Spheres. He postulated that “there
is geometry in the humming of the strings…there is music in the spacing of the
spheres.” In other words, if a vibrating
string emits a tone, a vibrating planet will also emit a tone. If many strings, working in harmony, create
pleasant chords, so too will the planets create a sort of cosmic harmony. According to Pythagorus, the universe is
singing. Are you listening? (Pause) Take some time. Listen to all that is singing outside of you for
just a moment.
What do you hear? How do you hear? Think of your ears, those wondrous whorls of
flesh. Imagine all this sound, swirling
down your auditory canal. Unless we are
song-writers or composers, we tend to think we experience musical sensation
from the outside in. Sound has quite a
path to travel before we can make sense of it.
The auditory system contains over ten structures through which a sound
vibration must travel before the brain can create any sort of response. Scientific
research has verified what our own experience shows: we have deep, physiological and emotional reactions
to sound. A sharp, short, loud sound
will create a startle response. A soft,
low, soothing sound will help to calm us.
A melody can give us goosebumps, reveal a signal, resonate with the
vibrations—the very music—singing inside
us, and lead us on to uncover great truths.
The
Aboriginal people of Australia understand the way music leads. Traditionally, they believed in Songlines, or
Dreaming Tracks, paths across the land and sky which mark the route followed by
sacred beings during the time of creation. By singing certain songs in the appropriate
sequence, Indigenous people could navigate vast distances. Again, all that is unseen sings within that which
is seen. Perhaps music hasn’t helped me
in travelling physical distances (except, of course, on long summer road
trips), but it has helped me map my heart.
As most of us did, I sang before I could speak. I was mimicking melodies my mom sang to me. I would hum along with the radio. I think, even as infants, singing is a way of
trying to connect the songs inside us with the songs outside us. It makes sense, right? We sing to the world, and the world finds a
way of singing back. Maybe it’s how the
world teaches us lessons.
I was blessed to be surrounded by music. My dad listened to the country radio station,
so I grew up with three chords and the truth.
My mother practiced Chopin and Debussy, so I grew up with clarity and
form. My Grandma Maughan loved the
opera, so I learned about patience and drama.
My Grandma Buck sang hymns and primary songs, and I took to heart their
messages of love, kindness, and sharing good things. By the time I was five, I had an entire set
list memorized. Ever the performer, I
loved singing Phantom’s “Think of Me”, An American Tail’s “Somewhere Out
There”, Reba’s “Fancy Was My Name” and (my favorite) “I Am a Child of God.” I’d sing for anybody who’d listen, but the
real magic, for me, was wrapped up in a hankering for the piano.
As soon as I could walk, I was heading for the keys. Something about the piano captivated me, and
my mother began teaching me when I was five.
I felt such joy sitting on the bench.
I knew that was right where I needed to be. It just felt right. It was resonant. I won’t go into great detail, but as most of
you know, I’ve had a long and healthy relationship with that instrument over
there. Music has taught me discipline
and empathy. It’s taught me the
dissonance gives way to consonance. It’s
enriched my life with people I can’t imagine living without. Music has comforted me, inspired me and
plagued me.
I’ve studied music as a pianist for about 22 years
now. Part of my study has included
learning about the creation and the mechanics of music. Part of my study has taught me about the
creation and mechanics of myself. I’ve
looked at the way music has been used to shock or uplift. Music has opened my ears and my eyes and my
heart in ways nothing. Sometimes it
feels like I’ve used music for so many reasons, it’s become a limp, tired, grey
thing; however, like hope, it always finds a second wind.
So, why music? Because
it is the hymn of truth ringing to hail a new creation. Because it is my ribs, my kidneys, my liver,
my heart. It is my blood. It is the womb in which I grow, the pair of
lungs breathing above me and the heart beating before me and the Songline
leading me forward. It tells me where I
need to be and how I need to get there. Why
do I want to share music? Because it is also
your ribs, your kidneys, your heart and your blood. Music is in you, too! Whether you sing, or play an instrument, or
not, you are the greatest kinds of musicians with the truest songs singing
inside you. I’m telling you, there is a
harmony in your souls that is so much more beautiful than anything I could
create with black and white blocks and bunch of wood and wire.
Listen! Study this
harmony in your souls. Do you hear
it? What do you hear? Listen!
There is something unseen, singing inside you, wanting so desperately join
the choir of the universe. It’s the
secret of your life, connecting invisible with visible. (Isn’t it exciting?!) It tells you what you need to do, where you
need to be. Some people call it a
Songline or a Dreaming Track. Some
people call it the still small voice. Others
call it an interconnected web. Today, I’m
calling it the interconnected chord of life.
I don’t care what you call it, just listen!
Listen!
Here is Peggy! Here is David! Here is Gabriel! And here is Theresa and Evelyn and
everyone. This is what makes the music of community so
rich and full and sound. We need every
note, every person, every song from inside
singing outside and out loud. Yes. Come, sing a song with me.
If there’s any secret to this life I live, it is this: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within
everything that is. So, you listen. And then you sing. Share the harmony of your soul. May you always find truth and make such glorious
music. Blessed be.
