Recently, a friend asked me whether I had ever communicated with elephants. I have only done that once, on a visit to the Houston Zoo. A female elephant was standing by herself in the middle of the enclosure. She was swaying gently, swinging her trunk, her eyes half-closed. I asked her why she was swaying. She answered: “I’m dancing to the music.”
“What music?” I asked.
“The music coming from the earth,” she said. “Can’t you hear it?”
I asked what the music sounded like. She showed me that it was a low, throbbing sound, like a heartbeat, and a soft humming sound, similar to the buzzing of bees. There was also a faint clicking-sighing-singing sound, like recordings I’d heard of dolphins and whales, and a shushing sound of waves whispering on a far-away shore. She said that the music was a soul-soothing sound; and that through that sound, she connects to elephants and whales all over the world. Together, they share their energy with one other and the earth, similar to the way a solar-energy system can both draw from and give back to the power grid. By meditating together, they strengthen themselves and the earth, at the same time. They benefit, and benefit from, the matrix of their connection with one another.
The elephant helped me to hear the music, and I have tried since then to hear the music again, but without her help, the song proved to be elusive. When meditating in my usual spot (the meditation chair in my office) my physical sense of hearing gets in the way, and instead of the earth’s song, I hear the ringing of my ears along with the hum of electronics in my house. The only way I’ve been able to hear the music since the elephant showed it to me is to meditate beside a large tree.
The trees’ music is different, still an earth-song, but quieter and less complex.
If you don’t have an elephant friend nearby to meditate with, try meditating with the biggest tree you can find. Try it, and report back. I’m eager to hear what the earth’s song sounds like to you.
