Updated: Mar 20, 2018
~~~ Once upon a time there was a young woman who lived in the mountains in the far NorthWest. She felt content there until one day a question began growing in her belly, as important questions are want to do. One day it grew so big she had to leave her village and wander. She wandered for many many moon nights, indeed many many moon years until one day she found herself in the canyons of the SouthWest. On her very first night there she was woken at 2.30 a.m. by the single song of a Coyote. As she listened in the otherwise seemingly silent night, the song touched her heart and the very marrow of her bones
as she remembered sounds echoing from long ago in her own land; those not heard by her, her mother, her mother’s mother, or even her mother’s mother’s mother. As deeply as she felt joy in her heart listening to this song again she felt as deeply in sorrow, bereft at the loss of such songs on this miraculous planet Earth. She began feeling her heart cracking as it expanded with joy and sorrow. Her heart breaking evermore moving towards dawn and her growing memory of our profound connection with the Earth, Moon and Sun who gave and gives birth to, feeds and shelters us; who will draw us back in like the moon’s tide and who is longing to be fed by us, indeed hungers for us, particularly now.
As she muses (or maybe more being mused) with that clear, black, starlit, moon sky she wonders what other songs are being sung now that she has forgotten even how to hear or even forgotten that she had forgotten; she begins to listen more intently. She wonders more deeply about this miracle planet. It seems to her that increasingly there is a well of new and yet concurrent ancient understanding of this planet and Earth Community as one of inter-being and reciprocity, of call and response. She wonders, is it possible to live, to exist even, without these other beings like Coyote; to call and there be no response…and then who will we be? She grieves with how far soundscape is reducing already; bird song, animal song, reed song, tree song, whale song, human song with mass extinctions, violence, plastic water/land and global warming. She wonders, given call and response, whether it is possible that we live in a world of romance in which humanity is an integral part and, as other creatures have their note, humans have a particular note in an Earth Orchestra too? Maybe whether we choose to sing or not really does make a difference. If so, how does our unique song sound? What is our authentic note? What are the sounds currently emanating, maybe deafeningly from us humans today? She recalls words of the late Thomas Berry “that we have become autistic. We no longer listen to what the Earth, its landscape, its atmospheric phenomena and all its living forms, its mountains and valleys, the rain, the wind, and all the flora and fauna of the planet are telling us.” that: “We are talking only to ourselves.” She suddenly understands what he meant, she suddenly gets it. Finally, her heart breaks wide open and not for the last time....
As dawn arrives, it begins to dawn on her; what might happen if once again we humans remember and begin to sing our true song to Earth and wild Earth community? She also remembered those of us who have never forgotten to sing to and with Earth. What might happen if we sing again into, being part of, the Earth Orchestra and Universal Opera? Indeed, what might happen….
And so it was that at dawn on Sunday 1st April, in the year 2018 wherever everyone was around the world from Pacific Island and New Zealand, over oceans and continents, remembering ancient ways offered to the creatures: kangaroos, elephants, butterflies, lizards, deer, lions, oaks, lilies, hummingbirds, bats, whales, sky, rivers, deserts, worms, coyotes, spiders, reeds, soil, all beings, our song was sung to let them know how much we loved to hear their song. Humans created a wave of song for Earth. They got that there is a deep and profound place for silence, but decided not to create a silent world. They chose to sing their note in a wave of global romancing to remember Earth…and to listen. Some folk also played other instruments like flutes, pipes and drums remembering that these sounds replicated the songs of lands. Some people sang together in the cities, towns, villages and wilder places; some, perhaps more and like the young woman of our story, sang with themselves to the land. They listened should there be a response that could come in wind whispers…in moonnightdreams…in unexpected places…in surprising ways like butterfly wings which in fluttering never really know quite fully the effect that they have. They gathered their experiences. They celebrated Earth with their offering of songs and music feeding Earth, beauty and Earth Community, they discovered more about themselves and the song of humanity in the Cosmic Composition.
And the rest, as they say, is history and Mystery, celebrated and remembered with deep gratitude by all of us future beings continuing to sing our part in the Cosmic song ~~~
If you want to be part of this history, see further details and information on
www.earthsongwave.com and on facebook Earthsongwave Dawn Chorus 2018.
God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.
Each note is a need coming through one of us,
a passion, a longing pain.
Remember the lips
where the wind-breath originated,
and let your note be clear.
Don't try to end it.
Be your note.
Rumi (13th Century)
Story - Wendy Robertson Fyfe
Collage - Doug Van Houten