Music, Mystery, and Magic

Twice in the last couple of months I've had the experience of hearing a musician create a sound that seems...impossible. Once was at a platform service at WES, when the percussionist Tom Teasley created the most amazing melodies by--as far as I could tell--banging in random places on an overturned bowl. The other time was this past weekend at a colleague's installation ceremony, where an electric violinist used what turned out to be a looper to layer his own sounds on themselves, creating a virtual symphony all by himself. Those experiences, which at the time I just enjoyed for their beauty, got me thinking about mystery and magic more broadly. I liked learning about the looper and how the electric violinist produced those layered sounds, but in some ways it was even cooler when I didn't know how he was doing it. I feel the same way about magicians...I don't really want to learn how the trick works. I enjoy the suspension of disbelief. And how about in the world at large? Rooted in a humanistic faith, many of us value the scientific method, our ability to explore and experiment and learn about our world. Is there a place in all of that for mystery and magic? Are there some things that we don't need to, or don't want to, learn about--things that we just want to wonder at? I imagine the answer is different for each of us. I know plenty of scientists who would say understanding exactly how the universe works makes them find it even more awe-inspiring. And others who say we'll never answer every question anyway, so we can be assured that some things will be mysteries, at least during our lifetimes. For me, a little mystery and magic is a good thing. How about you?

Being...Quiet.

This past Tuesday, I finally did something I've been meaning to do for about seven years. Something I thought would really add to my spiritual journey. Something I've just got to tell you about (obviously, since it's now become a blog post). Something I might talk to you about, too, if I see you...because I really do like to talk. I went on silent retreat. Before you feel impressed with me, I should say it was only four hours of silence. Less, if you count the centering circle in the beginning and the sharing circle at the end. But it was still the longest period of time I have been intentionally, thoughtfully silent. And guess what? It was great! Part of that was the beautiful scenery, a retreat center near Gaithersburg, MD. And part of it was being intentionally quiet along with 20 or so other people, all of us with our own books or journals, our own walks or front-porch sitting, our own thoughts. Similar to meditating with a group of people, I found the energy around me palpable, and so interesting to experience. I was aware of other things, too. I'm someone who's usually on the lookout for metaphorical meaning in the world (a hazard of both my profession and my personality), but that became even more true when I was silent. Suddenly everything I saw or did took on a meaning, reminded me of whatever I was thinking about or wondering about, every question I came to ask. It's not that I thought those were messages sent from on high, but that I found a way to create meaning, to see meaning, in the everyday occurrences that life provided. Of course I was also more aware of my other senses and abilities when my mouth wasn't busy talking. I appreciated the wind more, the flowers. I was able to notice more deeply than usual. Have you tried being intentionally silent for a while? Perhaps much, much longer than I have! What was your experience like? Or--what else brings you that kind of experience in life?