I want to write about my life here. How can one put into words the peace of frogs singing. Is it peace? If it is, I want more of it. Are they singing? It is unlike any song. Yet it is the oldest song. The frustration is that these words are inadequate. I am not capable of using these simple words to capture the feeling, the deep soul touch of frogs singing. There is a bedroom downstairs that is cooler, more comfortable to sleep. I don’t like to be hot. But the frogs call to me. I refuse to sleep downstairs because I cannot hear the frogs. From this room upstairs, the frogs are right in my ear. As I lay in bed falling asleep. In the middle of the night when I wake from a stressful dream. They call to the deepest parts of my being, call me back into the peaceful sleep that they want me to have. Frogs are there for me in the morning, their song made even more beautiful now that layers of birds have joined the chorus. Poetry. As I learn to write poetry maybe the way frogs touch me will find expression. They expose an ancient place in my heart and it feels unlike anything before and yet it feels like the most familiar, most sacred thing.
This place is restructuring me. Tearing down old ideas. Living out in the country, isolated from all I knew before. But maybe its the frogs that are doing it. Sure one must live in a place like this to hear the frogs. But living way out here and not listening to the frogs would let the restructuring pass by. I have been listening. I am hearing what they say. It is the I part of me that is true. When I say I have been listening, its the I part of me that is beyond my damaged personality, beyond all my pain and past hurts that get carried around and displayed in pathetic episodes over and over again. The frogs go right past all that. They give a kind nod on their way by, but they don’t spend any time there. The frogs go deep. They go right in, fearless, because they know what lies inside. And that’s what they want. They want the truth.
I guess its like vibration therapy. If OM is the universal vibration then frogs are the earthly, constant offering to us tiny humans who can only hear bits at a time. Frogs are kind and reliable. They sing whether we listen or not. They want me to hear but they sing the same regardless. There is no lessening of their song if I don’t hear. It goes on anyway. When people move away from here, leaving the song behind, frogs are not sad. They sing for the sake of Love, for beauty. Like a pear tree offers its fruit, frogs sing. Not because they want someone to come and enjoy the sweet treat. Just because they enjoy participating in the creation of Love and wonder. Not hearing the frogs does not diminish the offering they make. Their offering to the expansion of Love is whole and pure and could not ever be enhanced or diminished. It is perfect. Understanding that from my mind is impossible. Mind doesn’t understand perfect, does not accept it. That is what makes the frogs’ song so beautiful. It cannot be heard with the mind. Only my heart can really listen and hear the frogs singing. That’s why it is so confusing sometimes. My heart is listening and changing and my mind is off in the corner all confused and hurt, what is that perfect sound and what do I think about it? Nothing. You don’t think anything about it. Just drink it like a warm glass of milk on a cold winter morning. Let is wash over you like a hard rain on a hot summer day. Let yourself soak into the song of the frogs, like your toes sinking into the heavy, clay mud around the spring. Rub it in to your dry skin and feel the sound nourish what you thought was lost.
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