Read Online Yom Kippur as Manifest in an Approaching Dorsal Fin by Adam Byrn Tritt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Adam Byrn Tritt
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separating, harmonizing,
combining into overtones that no single voice
creates. A circle of sound as, one by one, two
by two, people come to the center, sit, vibrate
throughout, breathe, heal. And all the while,
a sound around it all, a tone at once over the
overtone and under the lowest voice. It per-
meates and surrounds and whence it comes
we’ve no idea.
An hour. An hour and a quarter. An hour
and a half and the chant slows, quiets, takes
longer breaths, then ends all at once as if by
a cue, unheard and unseen. Silence.
102
The Harmony of Broken Glass
What did you experience? I saw the color
blue everywhere. I could not stop singing. It
was not my voice. I felt waves. I was con-
nected. My body sang as I stood. I felt calm.
Calm. No time passed.
Water passes around. Some sit, some pace.
Some wonder what the sound was, that sound
over the sound, that sound under the sound.
I walk to the far window, the window
toward the back, for some space. To look out,
to look down and see the grass wave through
the thick glass and notice something new.
Powder. Flakes. Chips on the wood sill. The
caulking around the window is loose. The
window, vibrating in the frame, has loosed
the old glazing. The window, vibrating in the
frame, sang.
We gather again to say goodbye. A short
chant only, easy to learn and in English. We
make two lines facing each other, close to each
other, holding hands with the person to my
right, holding hands with the person to my
left, close enough to hug the person I am fac-
ing, each line joining hands at each end. We
are a circle pressed to a double line. We look
into each other’s eyes and chant, then move
103
Adam Byrn Tritt
to the right, look into another set of eyes, sing, move to the right.
Come let us light up our hearts.
Come let us light up our homes
Breathe in,
And breath out
Making circles of love.
Oh, come, let us light up the world.
Move to the right, look into those eyes, sing,
move, look, sing. Her eyes, his eyes, my eyes.
Full circle. No one ends. We go round again.
All is quiet. All is done.
•
The next day we came to the store a little
before nine in the morning to discover the
phone wasn’t working. In the very back of the
building was a large room, concrete floored,
with a separate entrance. It appeared to be a
machine shop from the old gas station days
and one could not get to it from the inside. I
walked there now, through the front room,
through the large workshop area, past the
104
The Harmony of Broken Glass
small office in the back we rented to a fledg-
ling acupuncturist, out the back door and
around to the right. I knocked on the door.
This was the landlord’s office.
Michael Rose owned the building and the
house next door. Actually, it was one prop-
erty with two buildings. He also owned a New
Age store not far from us. On top of these
ventures, he was the US importer for Blue
Pearl Incense. When he was in town he was
a good landlord and a more than decent per-
son. Usually, however, he was out of town.
Often at an ashram in Sarasota or India or
who knows. Today was unusual and he was
in his office. But his phone was not working
either. Together we walked around the build-
ing to look at the lines.
It was a calm summer. There was no storm
the night before. And so we were quite sur-
prised to see, before we ever got to the phone
lines, a thick black wire hanging from the tall
utility pole a few feet from our building lying
slack from the roof.
The wires were intact leading to the house
on the property, parallel to our store, so
Michael knocked on the door to use their
105
Adam Byrn Tritt
phone. The line from their roof was still
attached to the pole. It was not long before a
gentleman from the phone company arrived.
It didn’t take him long to fix it though he
had to run a new, longer line. That seemed a
bit strange. Why not just attach the old one?
Would making it longer keep it
combining into overtones that no single voice
creates. A circle of sound as, one by one, two
by two, people come to the center, sit, vibrate
throughout, breathe, heal. And all the while,
a sound around it all, a tone at once over the
overtone and under the lowest voice. It per-
meates and surrounds and whence it comes
we’ve no idea.
An hour. An hour and a quarter. An hour
and a half and the chant slows, quiets, takes
longer breaths, then ends all at once as if by
a cue, unheard and unseen. Silence.
102
The Harmony of Broken Glass
What did you experience? I saw the color
blue everywhere. I could not stop singing. It
was not my voice. I felt waves. I was con-
nected. My body sang as I stood. I felt calm.
Calm. No time passed.
Water passes around. Some sit, some pace.
Some wonder what the sound was, that sound
over the sound, that sound under the sound.
I walk to the far window, the window
toward the back, for some space. To look out,
to look down and see the grass wave through
the thick glass and notice something new.
Powder. Flakes. Chips on the wood sill. The
caulking around the window is loose. The
window, vibrating in the frame, has loosed
the old glazing. The window, vibrating in the
frame, sang.
We gather again to say goodbye. A short
chant only, easy to learn and in English. We
make two lines facing each other, close to each
other, holding hands with the person to my
right, holding hands with the person to my
left, close enough to hug the person I am fac-
ing, each line joining hands at each end. We
are a circle pressed to a double line. We look
into each other’s eyes and chant, then move
103
Adam Byrn Tritt
to the right, look into another set of eyes, sing, move to the right.
Come let us light up our hearts.
Come let us light up our homes
Breathe in,
And breath out
Making circles of love.
Oh, come, let us light up the world.
Move to the right, look into those eyes, sing,
move, look, sing. Her eyes, his eyes, my eyes.
Full circle. No one ends. We go round again.
All is quiet. All is done.
•
The next day we came to the store a little
before nine in the morning to discover the
phone wasn’t working. In the very back of the
building was a large room, concrete floored,
with a separate entrance. It appeared to be a
machine shop from the old gas station days
and one could not get to it from the inside. I
walked there now, through the front room,
through the large workshop area, past the
104
The Harmony of Broken Glass
small office in the back we rented to a fledg-
ling acupuncturist, out the back door and
around to the right. I knocked on the door.
This was the landlord’s office.
Michael Rose owned the building and the
house next door. Actually, it was one prop-
erty with two buildings. He also owned a New
Age store not far from us. On top of these
ventures, he was the US importer for Blue
Pearl Incense. When he was in town he was
a good landlord and a more than decent per-
son. Usually, however, he was out of town.
Often at an ashram in Sarasota or India or
who knows. Today was unusual and he was
in his office. But his phone was not working
either. Together we walked around the build-
ing to look at the lines.
It was a calm summer. There was no storm
the night before. And so we were quite sur-
prised to see, before we ever got to the phone
lines, a thick black wire hanging from the tall
utility pole a few feet from our building lying
slack from the roof.
The wires were intact leading to the house
on the property, parallel to our store, so
Michael knocked on the door to use their
105
Adam Byrn Tritt
phone. The line from their roof was still
attached to the pole. It was not long before a
gentleman from the phone company arrived.
It didn’t take him long to fix it though he
had to run a new, longer line. That seemed a
bit strange. Why not just attach the old one?
Would making it longer keep it
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