The meditation is the message.

The meditation is the message.

YouTube video by Inside of You with Michael Rosenbaum

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I had never heard of this alt hymn, or the artists who built it, or even the television series that launched it, before I first heard it on Celtic Music Radio some weeks ago. (Or maybe The Whip, or Folk Alley? Apologies to the unknown programme director with the sound judgement to add this track to the house rotation.) Which is probably for the best, as I understand the climactic scene behind which these poignant verses run would have superseded any connexions my own mind might have made. And the work is deeply moving on its own. In the meantime I've listened to it over and over again – I'm listening to it now – and suggest you do as well. Listen without the lyrics. Let the chant flow through your skull. If the current moves you, listen a few times more before you engage your binary drive. Just savour the oracular growl of Jake Smith (aka The White Buffalo), voicing the literary dexterity of lyricist Kurt Sutter. (While we're up, let's also note that the titular "murder" refers to a posse of corvids, not a capital crime.) Those birds – crows, jays; ravens above all – were sangha during my forest ango; omnipresent, providing a guidance hard to quantify in the Red Dust World. But you can take my word for it. These words– > _Come join the murder > Come fly with black > We'll give you freedom > From the human trap_ –arrested me. Never mind that the story puts a darker spin on it; for me this quatrain encapsulates my experience on the mountain, taking me back to that time and place. More sit than song. And as Marshall McLuhan didn't quite say: "The meditation is the message." Therefore, for the good of The Order, I say in brotherly communion: Let us clear our minds of discrimination, and contemplate this wisdom. _Wu Ya's commentary:_ "Look, it's just a song." –烏鴉 _Come Join The Murder_ _by The White Buffalo and The Forest Rangers words and music by Kurt Sutter _ There's a blackbird perched outside my window I hear him calling I hear him sing He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers He sees all my sins He reads my soul > One day that bird, he spoke to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king On a blanket made of woven shadows Flew up to heaven On a raven's glide These angels have turned my wings to wax now I fell like Judas Grace denied > And on that day he lied to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king I walk among the children of my fathers The broken wings, betrayal's cost They call to me but never touch my heart now I am too far I'm too lost > All I can hear is what he spoke to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king So now I curse that raven's fire You made me hate, you made me burn He laughed aloud as he flew from Eden You always knew You never learn > The crow no longer sings to me > Like Martin Luther > Or Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king

I had never heard of this alt hymn, or the artists who built it, or even the television series that launched it, before I first heard it on Celtic Music Radio some weeks ago. (Or maybe The Whip, or Folk Alley? Apologies to the unknown programme director with the sound judgement to add this track to the house rotation.) Which is probably for the best, as I understand the climactic scene behind which these poignant verses run would have superseded any connexions my own mind might have made. And the work is deeply moving on its own. In the meantime I've listened to it over and over again – I'm listening to it now – and suggest you do as well. Listen without the lyrics. Let the chant flow through your skull. If the current moves you, listen a few times more before you engage your binary drive. Just savour the oracular growl of Jake Smith (aka The White Buffalo), voicing the literary dexterity of lyricist Kurt Sutter. (While we're up, let's also note that the titular "murder" refers to a posse of corvids, not a capital crime.) Those birds – crows, jays; ravens above all – were sangha during my forest ango; omnipresent, providing a guidance hard to quantify in the Red Dust World. But you can take my word for it. These words– > _Come join the murder > Come fly with black > We'll give you freedom > From the human trap_ –arrested me. Never mind that the story puts a darker spin on it; for me this quatrain encapsulates my experience on the mountain, taking me back to that time and place. More sit than song. And as Marshall McLuhan didn't quite say: "The meditation is the message." Therefore, for the good of The Order, I say in brotherly communion: Let us clear our minds of discrimination, and contemplate this wisdom. _Wu Ya's commentary:_ "Look, it's just a song." –烏鴉 _Come Join The Murder_ _by The White Buffalo and The Forest Rangers words and music by Kurt Sutter _ There's a blackbird perched outside my window I hear him calling I hear him sing He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers He sees all my sins He reads my soul > One day that bird, he spoke to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king On a blanket made of woven shadows Flew up to heaven On a raven's glide These angels have turned my wings to wax now I fell like Judas Grace denied > And on that day he lied to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king I walk among the children of my fathers The broken wings, betrayal's cost They call to me but never touch my heart now I am too far I'm too lost > All I can hear is what he spoke to me > Like Martin Luther > Like Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king So now I curse that raven's fire You made me hate, you made me burn He laughed aloud as he flew from Eden You always knew You never learn > The crow no longer sings to me > Like Martin Luther > Or Pericles Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king Come join the murder Come fly with black We'll give you freedom From the human trap Come join the murder Soar on my wings You'll touch the hand of God And he'll make you king And he'll make you king

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