Today we rest

Today we rest. It has been (another) long week. Last night's final spin session cooked the proverbial goose. There was nothing left. Nada. Niente. Zilch. Zero.

In that incredibly marvelous state of total exhaustion some images and accompanying text began to mash up in the scratch pad of my consciousness. It was interesting to witness as in the physical world, all motor function and execution of the mundane was operating on auto pilot. I was going through the motions of looking for some clean protein at the Safeway, navigating my car through traffic, stoking the fire and lastly making my way upstairs and laying the poor body down. All the wile the images and ideas swirled in my mind like a desert dust devil at twilight. I began to sample them, spinning as cosmic VJ, mixing some of the ideas with the imagery. It was fun, putting a whole new dimension of the marching to a different drummer idea. It has long been known that music, drumming in particular, can invoke the magic of the trance, a higher vibratory level, an otherworldly state of reality, inducing experience not obtainable elsewhere. The quest of the Shaman. A rite of passage, a ritual of transcendence, leaping through the quanta of the known towards energies, lights and sacred spaces. Anyone who has run a marathon, or slugged out an Ironman knows about this. You can be transported 'somewhere else' as you struggle to maintain an aerobic trance of movement. Your mind MUST leave the body to manage the pain. While the legs and lungs are on auto pilot, the mind and soul are in deep meditation, watching, chanting, praying, with the endless empathy of a angelic drum circle, keeping perfect time with nonjudgmental mallets of joy. In this vision, I heard three distinct percussions vibrate and resonate, each pounding a different tone and pitch,

BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD

DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY

NEVER MAKE ASSUMPTIONS

The three were soft and subtle, backbeat rhythms in a divine mono-groove, a paradiddle close to my still-elevated heart rate. They were tribal yet ultra sophisticated and suave. I felt a movement in my loins and a new power emulating from the core. it was getting louder, and the lead drum came forward to solo, as a lens flare spot illuminated the house. It was a brilliant sound, both bongo and bass, clean, pure, cellular. Whomever was playing had their eyes closed seeing something no one else could. I saw this:

ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST.

Words by Don Miguel Ruiz. Music my me.