The flute said, I am merely a hollow piece of reed, with holes. I did not make the music.
The wind said, I merely rush through the flute, going wherever passage permits. I did not make the music.
The flautist said, I merely blow from one end of the flute, pressing its holes with learned skill. But I did not make the music either.
So who made the music? Sur kisne banaya?
A middle-aged man asked this question today at our monthly Buddhist discussion meeting, my first in my new apartment block. I love questions, but I love the answers even more.
When the reed, the holes, the wind, the fingers, the mouth, the skill come together, they become more than the sum of their parts, and music is born. When man and nature are in sync, in complete surrender, miracles are created.
I am out of tune these days. How do I know? Because my body is telling me so, giving me allergies and irritants that are suffocating me, making me all stuffed up. Energy is not flowing freely, my body is signalling to me. You need to do something about it. Play some music. Pray. Walk. Sit in silence. Sing. Write. BREATHE. BREATHE. BREATHE.
The body always knows when the mind isn’t doing its job. It’s time to make some changes. It’s time to allow the music to flow through me.