What we believe in anguish and doubt
the iris proclaims in simple blue tones;
What we do not see, the chickadee confirms
in its flight to the feeder;
Life, life everywhere, sacred everywhere.
We can think of ourselves as musical instruments that imprint the world in a unique way. Our body is the instrument, our nerves are the strings, and the musician is our spirit. When in a music store, if yuou pluck a string on a guitar, all the other guitars in the room will vibrate to that tone. What type of music are you making?