The number 12 has deep significance across the world and
cultures. The Mayans knew the number
twelve, when they crafted their calendar into twelve-month years. Astrology divides the heavens into twelve
houses. Jesus had twelve disciples.
More recently, in the previous decade, scientists made a
major discovery of the twelfth strand, the Higs-Boson discovery, in string
theory. I only know the name from
Sheldon Cooper and the Big Bang Theory, so I am spelling it wrong.
With that discovery, scientists also declare the final note,
the key to the music of the universe.
The harmony produced by these strands can be heard as music. Music and math are closely aligned. Music has, say the scientist, 12 notes. And so mathematicians can translate these
twelve strands into music. I am not sure
who has heard this music, but this concept has been around for hundreds of
years.
I have heard this celestial music.
In the late ‘70s I was in India, studying with the
Tibetans. The tradition for them who
live in the Himalayas is to get out of the freezing mountain winters by going
to Bodh Gaya, a sacred place for all Buddhists.
This is the location for the ancient tale of how Shakyamuni Gautama sat
under a bodhi tree for seven days, until he attained enlightenment and
Buddhahood.
One winter I was there, sleeping on the roof of one of the
monasteries in a tent. My main teacher
was there also, living in the monastery.
I had a friend, a Thai monk, with whom I would hang out. The oppressive heat of this southern region
was difficult to bear, and so it was common to be awake in the late night
waiting for the pre-dawn cool to descend.
The previous year I had taken a ten-day meditation course in Bodh Gaya
with the Burmese teacher, Goenka. It was
an amazing, eye and soul-opening experience.
So to speak, the icing on the cake after a few years of studying under
the Tibetan teachers, who tend to be intellectual, and doing their meditation
retreats, which are more structured.
Goenka-ji does a lot of guided meditation and practical
exercises. Near the end of the ten-day
course, I was asleep on the floor of the girls’ dorm. Goenka-ji had told us we would be having a
rare experience in our sleep. And so it
was. Although we slept, our minds were
full of cool light and we were conscious of every moment. We all awoke feeling refreshed. We marveled at this, how we could be both
awake and asleep. Goenka-ji had sat up
all night sitting in meditation, and with his high consciousness level was able
to transmit to all of us this light, this high level of consciousness. He was showing us what we could expect if we
pursued this path of consciousness expanding and purification.
I did not pursue any of his more advanced courses. When the Tibetan/Chinese new year rolled
around, I followed the lamas back to our mountain home in Himachal
Pradesh. There, in those days, we would
cue up to receive the new year’s blessing from HH the Dalai Lama himself, as he
sat in his home temple. Those were
simpler times, before he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace, before the tiny
town was overrun each year with an affluent international crowd. He knew each of us, as we presented ourselves
before him for his blessing.
The following winter I found myself in Bodh Gaya hanging out
with this Thai monk. The tradition in
Thailand is for boys to enter their manhood years by spending two years in a
monastery, as monks. Contrast that to
the Israeli tradition of those two years spent in the military.
He was a high-minded person.
He tried to persuade me to go to Thailand with him, to marry him and
together for us to do great things to bring improvement and modernization to
his small impoverished village region.
We had many philosophical discussions, as we wandered the sacred center
of the temples in Bodh Gaya. This
particular night, I had bought myself a bang lasi, a precursor to the modern
smoothie. The temple plazas were deserted
as we strolled, except for one where there was a group of advanced Goenka
students, twenty or thirty, sitting and meditating. As we crossed the plaza, the group was
sitting on the far side of the building to our left. I saw a glow coming from the building, as if
it were lit up. There were no street
lamps then, so I thought it curious. As
we passed beyond the shadow of the building and into the lit plaza, I heard
music. I marveled at it, and asked my
companion what he thought it might be.
However, he heard no music, he saw no light.
And so it is, that I have heard the celestial music of the
universe.
