Like eternal bumper cars, that’s the squeal you hear from relationships: bumping and twisting and slamming and jolting into each other.  But all of the universe plays this game–leaves to the ground, birds landing on a branch, thunder clouds, even terrorist bombs.  Each and all of us intersect, whether softly or neutronically.

From the smallest atom merging or exploding, it seems that it is up to us consciously to make music from the clapping together of elements.  Like the kiss of fingers on a piano to the clashing of cymbals, each word we have with each other makes some kind of music.

Today I am great-full that my awareness of this natural and metaphysical law gives me a slender pause before I pound the drum of rebelliousness or silent scorn so violent in the room that it sucks up all sound.

Perhaps like the chorus of a gospel choir, I can find others to put their hands together with a uplifting, soul-stirring revival meeting.