Austin — When you sit inside the hum of Life, what is left to sing?
After meditation this morning, I stay on the cushion to “do” my Sing15 practice there. I notice that Life is full already, that I am inside it and that singing feels like pouring more water into a tub already filled to the brim.
I observe my breathing and have the thought to add sound to it, a light stick dropped on the ebbing tide of exhale. Even this gentle gesture feels like unnecessary assertion. And even in its lightness it stirs up thoughts of value, good, bad, projections of listeners judging. These are dandelion seeds that scatter as soon as they appear.
Back to the breath, back to a light assertion, and only because this is a singing practice. A kind of gravity returns all to the wholeness of silence.