Drumsound rises on the air,
its throb, my heart.
A voice inside the beat
says, “I know you’re tired,
but come. This is the way.”
Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
Zzzzzzzz. Zzzz. Zzzzzzzz. Quiet, then once again Zzzzzzzz. Zzzz. Zzzzzzzz. On its own, the repetitiveness of the sound was akin to a joyful hum, seemingly celebrating the deep pulse of life. It had its own rhythmic pattern of rising and falling, circling into and back out of itself like the eternal cycles of existence. As a simple hum, it offered me a welcome reminder of the ever waxing and waning of the moon from darkness to light, and the turnings of the days and seasons. It was an invitation to re-awaken to the preciousness of the inner drumbeat being soothed and bathed by the ebbing and flowing of the breath.
The sound felt like a primal call to pause, listen and to hear this tone as though I had never heard it before. Memories tumbled through my mind of all the associations and narratives that I had gathered over the years of this lifetime around this sound. None of them came near the sense of reverent appreciation that I was feeling. Instead, these collected memories were the opposite of reverence; they uniformly regarded this sound as a nuisance whose source needed to be suppressed and extinguished.
In listening anew, I heard the waves of hums vibrating through the universe, pulsing through the stars, clouds, birds, rivers, ponds, rocks, mountains, microbes and all other life forms. I began to feel an appreciation for having a tiny, winged being swirling around and bringing me back into the ancient folds of life. Within that, I felt a shedding of my memory’s attachment to the stories about this being, which has been given the name of “fly,” allowing me to appreciate the uniqueness of a fly and its part within the universal community.
Rather than a nuisance, I found myself appreciating how something so small could have such tremendous and unshakable power to be heard and seen. It is not easy to ignore their presence, nor to stifle their voice. Their anatomy allows them to soar through the air with ease and elegantly vanish – their wings beat about 200 times per minute, and their eyes have the capability to process visual information multi-fold faster than those of humans. They have short lives, yet focus their energy to help break down organic matter and renourish the earth. And, they are a living microcosm of the endless humming, and turnings of existence – e.g., egg, larva, pupa and adult; winter, spring, summer, and autumn; and dawn, noon, dusk and midnight.
In closing, I respectfully acknowledge that human history has revealed that we are wise to be wary of the presence of flies and other very small beings – such as viruses – since they can disrupt our physical health. Yet, I feel that wariness should not reflexively bar an invitation back into the circle of interconnectedness and community so humans can once again join in the celebration of the sacred, collective embodiment of all life forms – rather than further robotically retreating into a human-constructed metallic and plastic reality out of fear of the wildness of the natural elements, and even our own bodies and senses. Ancient, living human cultures around the world – Egyptian, Greek, Celtic, Norse, Aboriginal, East Indian, African, Native American and others – revere all beings as divine expressions and messengers. My hope is to continue to listen anew again and again, and be slowly enfolded into the throb of the universal hum. I hope you will join me.
Practice
This short practice supports awareness of the universal hum. I suggest that you read through this practice before beginning it, then put it aside, trusting yourself to remember the essence as you practice on your own.
Prepare –
- Find a quiet area where you can move comfortably. Invite yourself to enter this space as simply a human being, i.e, only your clothed self, free of all digital appendages.
- This invitation reflects the fact that most humans have a body and mind with four limbs, innate intelligence and full sensory capacity for awareness and reciprocal engagement (e.g., communication, movement, digestion, observation) without the need for therapeutic support devices.)
- Once you have found the space where you’ll be for the next several minutes, slowly walk in a circle around this space. Take your time.
- As you do this, imagine the ground beneath you is welcoming you, appreciating you for coming just as you are, and gently caressing the soles of your feet within each step.
- Feel free to pause anywhere within this circular walk and just observe what you are noticing through any of your senses – the sounds, the forms, the feel of the air on your skin or flowing through your body, any smells.
- In your noticing, again feel as though you are being appreciated by what you notice for your having slowed down and just noticed and offered your attention.
Practice –
- Once you have completed a turn or more around the space, slowly walk to its center – or, what feels approximately like the center.
- Again, feel as though you are being welcomed and reverently received by the center.
- Place one hand over the center of your chest – your center, your sacred heart-center — and slowly place the other hand on top.
- Invite a feeling sense of the circle around you.
- Imagine like spokes of a wheel, rays of joyful appreciation are reaching from your center to the inner edge of the circle around you.
- If you wish, allow this circle to transform into a sphere where you are standing in the midst of the sphere, which encircles you in all directions, including above and below. Allow your appreciative rays to fill the sphere. If you are drawn to choose the sphere, each time the word “circle” appears in the rest of the practice, allow it to be “sphere” instead.
- Allow yourself to fully feel the circle is receiving this love and beginning to vibrate in joyful humming sound. Imagine that hum is filling the circle, enfolding you in a joyful hum.
- Invite your own body to begin to voice this hum and fill the circle with an audible sound. Continue humming for a minute or more. Yet, feel free to pause and breathe as needed.
- If you wish, slowly rotate as you hum.
- As you feel complete with this humming, slowly let the audible sound fade.
- If you still have your palms over your heart, allow your arms to release to your sides. Invite your body to quietly stand in a comfortable stance, e.g. a little softness in your knees and belly, jaw and shoulders, soles of your feet and palms of your hand, and your neck and face.
Transition back into your day –
- When you are ready, slowly walk in spiral outward from the center back to the outer edge of area of your practice. Once you reach the outer edge, slowly walk in the reverse direction, receiving and offering appreciation as you do so.
- Pause where you began and then slowly turn toward the center of this space.
- As a gestures of thanks to the ever present hum: a) with your arms alongside your body, open your palms and stretch your fingertips toward the earth, acknowledging the heartbeat of the earth and all earthly beings; then, lift your arms upward, acknowledging the throb of this vast universe; and then bring your palms together in front of your heart, appreciating the gift of your presence within, and interconnectedness with, all existence.
- When you feel ready, return to your day.
This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 46, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library. Photo is by Taylor Cowling. H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2025.
