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‘Harmonie du soir’ By Michel Simonidy 1904 {{PD}}

We’re honoring what we find sacred, what we care about and make a priority, and yet this is somehow translating into an unwise direction for the future. What are we doing wrong? We’re pitting our beliefs against our instincts–and the instincts are losing; and we’re acting (when we do act) out of fear of what we imagine might happen, rather than in response to actual circumstances, and that’s making us seem arbitrary and unreliable. The one shining light in all this is that we do know what’s healthy, we value it, in fact, so we have a guideline to follow: whatever yields love or benefit, in any of myriad forms, is the solid thing to do.

Today’s word image is hearing music at random times. This is actually happening to me; I pause in the middle of things, trying to catch some delicate tune on the breeze. It never turns out to be music, though: it’s something metal tapping against a metal tube, a cord brushing across the strings of a mandolin, the wind moving branches against the glass, freshets of air sighing through the pines, sounding almost like thin, high violins. It’s clearly not music as we normally think of it, but I still feel like I need to stop and listen, as if there’s a ‘song’ I need to hear but am largely missing. Maybe this is about listening more carefully, more intently (to what isn’t said?), and perhaps about recognizing all the many ‘songs’ there are in the world.