RURAL REFLECTIONS: Harmony
Voices call out in discord. They rage. They cry. They battle one overriding the other. Yet no truth, no harmony, no peace is heard over the noise. Voices call out in discord.
The sand crane warbles a song. Not necessarily a pretty one, but then to another, it is lovely. For me, it is unique and makes me smile.
A deer and her fawns look around in fear as they cross the lawn. She is alert to danger. I am alert to her beauty.
Harmony. What a sweet word.
I guess our family might be a bit unusual. When the five of us were loaded into the car, we sang. We each took a different part of the harmony. Peg sang soprano, Mom and June sang alto, Daddy sang tenor and little me sang harmony.
Hmm. There's that word again.
No one taught us to sing the separate parts. It came as natural as breathing. It was true with every song we sang wherever we happened to be. Unity. Harmony.
Orioles, hummingbirds, mourning doves, sand cranes all sing together. They are different and have only their own songs, yet the melodies are so lovely that it brings me to tears.
Nature understands. Each part is complimented by the other. Flowers grow to feed bees. Rain falls to feed plants and animals. A robin pulls a worm from the earth to feed her own. It all works together. A harmony in the differences that together create a symphony.
Humankind is not as smart. It does not hear the song of one another. The discord is chaotic and harsh. The results are painful and often cruel. On nature, it rapes the soil and pollutes the air. On minorities, it fails to accept as equal and finds fault, clinging to old beliefs.
Why is there no harmony to serve all? Why?
I believe that harmony is created by awareness, hope, cooperation and most of all the ability to change. Without any one of these, men, women and children will suffer. I cannot force my beliefs on you, but we can work together to find the best for all.
Listening. Wow, that didn't happen much when I was a child. Old men ways were the way we lived. Children were told to do as they say. So many of those children when grown did the same. Voices silence too often forever.
I listen to the earth. I listen to those who hurt. I watch the deer, the birds, the seeds that grow into soybeans and corn.
Therein lies the answer for all. It is a song waiting for the harmony. A harmony that we should indeed already know.
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