The earth has music for those who listen.

My favorite time of day is in the early morning before the sun rises and the only sounds are the wind or perhaps the pattering of rain on the roof. Now and then the doves who live on our back porch come to life and coo a good morning to the world. As the sun shows its glory on the horizon, lights begin to shine in the windows of my neighbors and an occasional dog that has been sent outside barks to announce his dominion over the neighborhood. 

Before long I hear the doors opening and the loving goodbyes of family members scurrying about to get to work or school or appointments. Car engines start and the drivers head to their daily destinations. Soon children gather on the corner, quiet at first, speaking only in whispers. As more and more of them arrive the chattiness intensifies into excited greetings and rounds of laughter. The school bus announces its arrival around the corner with the squealing of breaks and there is a hubbub of voices as the children scurry inside. Then there is silence again and I feel ready to begin the chores of the day that lie ahead.

There is a lovely pattern of our earth’s rotation that brings different sounds at different times and different places. All of it is music to my ears where even silence has its place. I relax hearing the cadence of my own breathing in and out. I think of how remarkable our human bodies are and how brilliantly the creation of ordinary routines have evolved and moved us forward in our thinking and our behavior toward one another. The sounds of both our sameness and our uniqueness are spiritual evidence of the goodness that comes from working together and honoring each contribution that we humans make to the world. 

We are presently in a period of carping with one another artificially created by politicians who are using our differences and concerns to enrich their own power and sometimes even their wealth. They have made us dissatisfied with each other, even fearful of each other when the truth is that most of the time we are all more alike than we are different no matter from where we have arrived. 

The street on which I live is a microcosm of the United States. We have neighbors whose origins and races are derived from every sort of place and belief. We are a tiny joining of nations, languages, personal points of view and yet we all go to work, send our children to school to learn, do our best to love and care for one another. Some of us are quite traditional white folks who regularly go to church, others are unique and even daring in the life choices they have made. All will come to the aid of others when needs arise. We have ignored the kind of artificial divisions that are fueling so much disdain for those not exactly like ourselves and living in a beautiful state of harmony. We happily and pointedly allow each other to live and let live. Our street is as close to utopia as one might ever experience.

When I leave my street either by way of tuning into the news or driving to another place I learn of the divisions that are being forced on us. I hear friends feeling concerned that they have to be afraid of what they say in their work. I can’t imagine feeling so inhibited in what I do or say. I thought that we left such horrific behavior behind in the years beyond the nineteen sixties when people were still judged by the color of their skin, the places from which they hailed, the languages they spoke, the religious beliefs they held, the decisions regarding their personal sexuality that they had made. We had seemed to be evolving into a kind and gentle nation in which every human was celebrated for his or her or their uniqueness. I loved being part of that kind of country. I felt proud of my fellow citizens but in this moment I hear the sounds of fear and sometimes hate much too often. It makes me want to retreat to my lovely cul-de-sac and hide until this horrific phase of our history is over. 

I know that running to my comfort zone is wrong. I cannot sit back in my own nirvana simply hoping that the horrors beyond my street will go away. If I do that it will only be a matter of time before they seep into the loveliness that I enjoy. I have to speak out now while I still have the ever narrowing freedom to do so and while my country is still mostly intact. The sound of my words and actions much be heard. It is up to me and all of the good people that I know to protect the people of our nation from the poisonous ideas that are sending us back to a time that I do not wish to see again. 

Thus I will do my part as must we all. I will voice my concerns. I will vote for those willing to fight to set things right. I will protest and resist when I see wrong doing. If millions of us add the sounds of our consciences together they will become as beautiful as the music of the earth and the whole world will surely listen.