The language of Life

What is the language of life?  Is it sounds, tastes, touch, sight, smell?  Are only one of our 5 senses involved at a time?  Or can they all sometimes work in concert?  Is it only confined to one ordinary event or could this exercise in language take us on a journey that leaves us a fundamentally different person; changed in ways we could never have foreseen.  And can these moments, whatever their origins, evoke in us responses so integral to our existence that we have a spiritual experience that transcend time and space?  I do not know when it comes to others ; however, when it comes to me, I do. 

So then, what is the language of My Life?

It can simply be the smell of turkey roasting in the oven, or the sound of dried leaves scrapping along the sidewalk. It can be a wonderful piece of art in a museum or the sound of newly fallen snow crunching underfoot on a still winters night.  It can be the sound of an organ in a great cathedral playing full stop, its bass reverberating so strongly through my body that it rivals the beating of my heart.  Or it can be the soft feel of my kids fur as I run my hand gently down their backs.  

It can be complicated as many different things known and unknown converge into one magical moment within time and space; like a newly born star, blazing forth for only one split second before extinguishing, forever.   

The language of my life can also be scary too.   Especially when it is a convergence of fearful things from my past, things that seem to haunt my waking mind from just beneath the surface of my skin.  

It can be many things and only one thing.  

This evening the language of my life was demonstrated while I was having my dinner.  I was flipping through the channels when I stopped on a PBS channel where a European Boy Choir, Libera, was singing in concert.  The music was amazing.   Libretti voices, coming together as one, echoing through an ornate Cathedral in the Netherlands.  (I do have to say I am a sucker for this kind of program.)  I sat enjoying the wonderful music for a long time while I finished my meal. 

Then, a piece began with a boy singing single notes, high atop the scales, accompanied by a synthesizer, an orchestra and an organ.  It brought me to tears.  The piece was "Salva Me".  The words, hauntingly beautiful, pulled at all of my senses.  

“Carry me away from the dark I fear, 

when the storm is near,  

from the endless night, 

from blinded sight, 

to a sky of light.  

Free me to fly away.  

Salva Me.”  

It evoked visions of magical places, filled with spiritual beings, tastes of sweet nectar, smells of a verdant forest with a lea clearing.  I reached out to touch the soft grasses of the meadow floor. allowing my body to sink into the warm accepting earth.  I had yearnings to be free of what haunts me and found that it was actually possible.  To be taken away on the wings of the wind.  To soar into the sky.  All this in a just one song.  One I will never forget.

This experience, as sweet and tender, as spiritual and mind blowing, is the language of my life.  It is, at its end, the power of singular things, of many things, seen and unseen, to take me to places I very rarely visit, places where my breath exists in its totality,  where my life exists in brief but spectacular seconds, and where my True Self exists, unfettered, for all of eternity.  

This is my paradise, my birthright, my home.