Here are some images of music (or mathematics) from Yellowstone.
I know, we’re all used to hearing music, but look:
And we’re used to viewing photographs as visual artefacts, I know, but isn’t this music?
We’re used to seeing stuff like this as art, but look at those patterns. I can hear them, without sound.
Or, rather, isn’t the earth here the sound?
And the seeing?
Maybe it’s not the hearing that makes music. Maybe it’s the music in it.
At any rate, I’m glad of this physically embodied music…
… and awed to be standing within it. I don’t need to hear it.
I am music. The men below are not just fishing. They are music.
The Fire Hole River below is not just water.
This hot spring singer is not just giving voice. His body is as much the voice as his trill.
His body is the trill of the hot spring below.
All of it is song.The sun is composing it.
And playing it.
And rising up.
If we are to have a science, let us begin with the sun’s music, not mathematics.
We will arrive at the same place, just deeper within ourselves.
And that makes all the difference.