Sounds at the Airport
If I don’t make a deliberate effort to sing (very softly) my morning mantra, I will be subjected to mundane sound all around me. Through the loud speakers at the Houston Airport, country western music vibrates through the airwaves. It is not my cup of tea. The selections chosen are indeed rather cheesy, if I could use the term. It’s not the kind of stuff that stimulates self realization.
In the Toronto Airport, these old Motown greats are pumped out through the system. They are no doubt, nostalgic. At least you’ve got happy tunes. I’m really impressed though, with the airport in Philadelphia, where they play classical music. It’s an easy background for chanting japa on the beads.
Airport facilities are usually large enough that you can get away with a low volume, rhythmic Sanskrit song. And even if you are caught singing, it’s of some benefit to the casual listener. Sanskrit, and sometimes Bengali, and Hindi are the three principal languages that Krishna monks sing. It may sound foreign to us, they’re sweet sounding nonetheless, and they are of a spiritual quality. They can soften the heart, much like a good old song by the Von Trapp family.
So, I’m stuck in an airport with the usual humdrum sounds. I look out the window at a Texas winter outdoors and I wish I could be out there. Not on the runway, of course, but somewhere where I can loosen limbs, somewhere where I can hear the sounds of a more free world, of birds and coyotes, and somewhere on a trail amidst trees or prairie. There, I can sing at a volume that even the spiritual world could catch.
May the Source be with you!