You're No Different Than A Reed Flute

"Lost in the Symphony of Life"

by Andy Graham

There's a natural longing that all humans have for something. Something that we don't understand yet.. and we spend our whole lives trying to figure it out. We spend our time trying to figure out how to fill this void so that we can... so that we can.. can what? Well, truthfully we don't know what we'd do if we filled the void because no one ever has. There's never enough money to fill the void, never enough food, laughter, sadness, sex, never enough joy or togetherness. So many things feel like they come close, but they never actually fill the void because it only grows as you get closer to fulfillment. Something out there always knocks you down, someone ruins the moment, and somehow, someway the good thing you wanted to last forever.. stops.

We embrace the things we trust when this repeating cycle rolls around and as you become aware of the emptiness again, you're awakened to that same longing that was there before. Every human thinks they deal with it differently, but we're all the same. We're all connected by that same void. Sure, I'd agree that we all try to fill it in different ways but the inability to do so is unbelievably common. Many turn to the story of Jesus, or the laws of science and nature, or the teachings of Buddha, the living practices of Muhammad, to consumption, to entertainment with the countless diversions available, to the evidence of the Yin and Yang found everywhere in the Tao, many  meditate to get in touch with an inner peace, or make sacrifices to find balance, I'm sure I cannot cover everyone's method, but I can tell you that we all find the void again. You can attribute this void to whatever you need to, but the well known whirling dervish, Jalalu'ddin Rumi, attributed this void to the separation from God when becoming human. To paraphrase, he said 'we were like the reeds who were separated from their roots and whittled into flutes'. He said that 'just like the reed that becomes a flute by having a series of holes drilled into its figure, mankind also has various holes forged into our hearts that are hardened and toyed with throughout our lives'. These holes that are covered and revealed motivate us to go where we go, do what we do and react the way we react. So just like the wind that blows through the reed flute and makes a beautiful song of longing for those unknown memories of the moments when, in their reed hearts, they knew they were attached to roots, there is also a wind blown into us. It's a gift given to all creatures like ourselves that are animated by powers greater than ourselves. We're animated into this song called life, animated by some maker, some life force. This is how Rumi saw us.. as mere instruments that ALL long to be one with our musician once again. The separation isn't something that Rumi knew how to rationalize and he didn't have the answer for this most difficult question, but I'm confident he recognized the 'music' that flowed from his and other's hearts around him. And surely he attributed the beauty surrounding him to that musician he could never see. He simply and only knew that he loved his musician.

There's something about music that can move through us unlike words or pictures. It's like being touched by a loved one. It can send shivers through your spine or embrace you when you're hurting. Certain drum beats will remind you of the heart in your chest, the perfect trumpet melody can remind you of your voice, and when a rosined horsehair bow is caressed just the right way across the strings of a flawlessly tuned violin, it can make every hair on your body stand up. It's unbelievable what instruments can do all alone, but to hear them played beautifully together.. well that's something else. If you're not angry or frightened, it's so difficult to shut music out, especially when it's trying to find a way in to tickle something inside you and use all your hardened holes to remind you of why they're here.. to feel something. To feel excitement build, or maybe to feel lost love again, or remind you of someone you love at home or next to you, or maybe you could feel the tension you still harbor, or that sweet release once again, it could be any array of human emotions. The emotions we're so frequently forced to ignore.

Rumi's metaphor about the reed flute is something that I think about from time to time, but I'd like to believe that you could use this metaphor with any musical instrument. The reed flute is an easier metaphor because of it being crafted from one cutting of a rooted plant, but life is so often about borrowing from one another in order to determine who we are. We're shaped by others, so why can't the metaphor be more like us. More complex. Like a violin. There's pieces of maple, spruce, willow and rosewood that go into a violin. There's also layers of varnish, stains, polish, the material for the strings and that's not to mention the horsehairs that form the bow or the rosin that applied to the horsehair that creates the friction. Without the friction the rosin creates, nothing beautiful will play. To me, that sounds more like a human. Thrust this violin into a symphony, give it a musician and suddenly the violin is alive, but it's the musician that make any of it possible. Without this musician, the violin can't go about doing what it was made to do. With the grace of this musician, it's been given life!

This violin is not alone.  There's a symphony of life right there with this violin. The conductor lightly taps the music stand as the various other instruments in the ensemble ready themselves, and the violin waits to come alive with noise. Without a given notice, it's wedged between a cheek and shoulder. Other violins are raised in the vicinity and together they all play a note. The cellos answer and both begin to bounce quarter notes to one another, clarinets fill in the spaces, then flutes and oboes flutter across the measures giving you a sense of questioning, then the horns voice an answer, and just when you find the rhythm of the song, the percussion waltzes in and let's you know you were right. You feel all the sadness going away as you begin to lose yourself. Your sadness is gone because you are lost in the music. You're lost because you were not you for a moment, you were the symphony. If only you could lose yourself permanently, that would be something wouldn't it? That's the endgame of the Sufi, to kill the self yet remain where you are. You can no longer hate because there is no you. You can no longer judge because there is no you. You can no longer long because there is only we. And then you can start to see that together we are all mere instruments being played in tandem with all the other instruments around us and together we are playing the beautiful song of life. Humanity is more diverse than any beautiful symphony and while I find unbelievable beauty in a philharmonic orchestra performing Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake' while amazing ballet performers choreograph and wrap the stage with storied tragedy, these performances will never outshine the audience. This is because the audience is never to be outdone. Ever. If you find yourself lost in the music of life, tell us about it. There are gifts that await and those gifts are the audience that will never be outdone.  
         
I'd like to thank Rob Landes for his performances on youtube, especially the one in Bangkok, Matthew McConaughey for turning himself into an instrument in The Wolf of Wall Street, Luka Šulić and Stjepan Hauser of 2Cellos, Angèlia Grace, and Samuel Barber (ThatCelloGuy on youtube check him out!) for inspiring me while I was coming up with the concept and writing this piece. You are all beautiful.