Our recently acquired tree frog is in rare voice this evening.
I’m reminded of a description I once heard of the Buddhist “Om-m-m” chant. This is my memory of that description.
It’s a four-syllable chant;
- It begins with an aspirant release of breath that almost has an “H” in it, framing the “O” to come. It prepares the way. It promises everything.
- The “O” ascends from your diaphragm, through the aspirant to the parted lips. It is powerful and inevitable. It fuels, channels, and moves all existence.
- The parted lips close, turning the “O” to an “M-M-M-M-M.” It roils and rolls and rumbles and is eternal until;
- The air is gone. The aspirant, the “O”, and the “M” skirl into silence. You can almost see them as they go. The silence is the final syllable. The silence is the final……
- It begins again and again……
As if on cue, the frog pierces the evening outside my window.
Every amphibious aria lasts for about eight seconds.
I’m grateful and strangely renewed by each one.
It’s good to find renewal in this year of the plague, in this presidential term of dissolution, in this week of having mortality painted on your mirror as indelibly as icy swim trunks on a stormy late summer afternoon. Thank you, E. B. White for that thought.
It’s good to be encouraged, to be renewed, and to be turned forward to anticipate a “new normal.”
I look forward to the new normal and speculate endlessly on what it might look like, what it might contain.
Today, in particular, I’ve been dwelling on a generationally shifting notion.
What if, when work and shops open up for future business, folks in their early sixties, who have worked their asses off their whole adult life, decide not to do that anymore, decide the health risk is not worth it, decide this time off at home they’ve experienced is worth more than the eternal carrot on the stick and they should have realized that decades ago and……maybe they did know that long ago…but forgot it?
What if…they don’t come back?
Perhaps un- and under-employment issues would fade as younger people stepped into those abandoned positions.
Perhaps nose-to-the-grindstone people who have never felt rich in dollars would find themselves rich in time; time to think, time to listen, time do one thing at a time and do it well, time to tell their story, time to;
Time to take a chance.
Time to take a chant.
Time to face that mirror and not flinch.
Just a notion.