My Life with Rhythm

When I was ten or eleven, I taped the pictures of famous classical English authors on the wall of the bedroom I shared with my two brothers.

My older brother collected pictures of cars — he maintained that interest, rebuilding muscle cars of the 60’s and 70’s for racing and resale. My younger brother collected pennies, a collection he kept and added to for the rest of his life. He also took to amassing a huge private library of fiction, non-fiction and academic texts.

I stopped collecting pictures and turned to the realms of expression.

Having become bored with reading for its own sake, I began to try to perceive the character of the author behind the words. My interest expanded into verbal as well as written expression, and I eventually became reasonably proficient at identifying the native locale of speakers from the English-speaking world. I studied French and Chinese dialects later as well, though never to the extent of English.

Later, other means of expression became equally interesting to me: the way people walked; the qualities of voices; handwriting. It was in the study of handwriting analysis I learned an important lesson — every habit, every trait we possess is reflected, to some degree, in everything we do.

Although in my later youth I was mostly unconscious of the principal involved in my investigations, it finally became clear to me was all movement and sounds were the infinite manifestations of rhythms (and their disruptions).

Tesla said, “If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration.” Mathematics is a study of relationships … and relationships establish rhythms (counting at the simplest level, for example).

I don’t profess to be physicist nor mathematician, (nor yogi nor shaman), but I am fascinated with rhythm, whether simple or complex, in poetry and prose, in speech and music, in footsteps and in dance, in science and art, on earth and in the stars, in love and in life.

I have no heart to finish

Mysteries unfold

My words dripping into sand

(I named this form deknau (Esperanto 19): 19 syllables, 7 5 7 lines)