That Divine Sound
Many faiths allege that Creation as we know it began with sound: a divine invocation for illumination; a single syllable that unites all under the godhead; a tale, woven by a traveling entity, from which the mortal we know it was transcribed into existence. The manifold details vary, but in each iteration there is the speaker, there is the spoken, and then there is us. Birds and beasts, sea and air.
They are wrong.
Or to be more generous, perhaps, they are mistaken. Too limited by linguistic myopia.
It is indeed sound that binds and unites the universe, that connects the mortal world to the transcended realms beyond. But not in words. Words are arbitrary abstractions, even at their most sophisticated; an attempt by inadequate minds to impose the perception of order on something inherently free. They restrict as much as they direct, a roaring river damned down to a wading stream. Useful, perhaps even necessary, but ultimately limited.
No, my bretheren. We must think beyond the parochial limits of speech. For that which binds us and unites, that which sets the universe to spinning, is something much simpler and infinitely more complex: music.
You have felt it, I know you have. Alone in your room with your albums or MP3s, you found Nirvana through Nirvana. You felt your soul stirred to dance at the blowing of a trumpet, wept with gratitute at the sublime beauty of a favorite classical compostion, heard the drumbeat of the waves against the shore or the orchestra of wind passing through the reeds. You heard it, and in those true moments felt yourself touching the divine. From the simplest turtle shell drum to the noisiest garage band to twittering of birds, it is there, always.
Even the deaf among us are not bereft of this; the deepest bassess exist to touch them in their very bones, siezmic motions of the self.
So come – join us! Sieze up your guitar! Beat your drum! Lace up your dancing shoes! For tonight, we worship!