Making Calm Out of Nothing at All

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Oh, you brass curve from the Himalayas,
forged in some Kathmandu workshop in '72,
I strike you gently with this felt mallet,
and you hum back, a resonant E-flat,
filling this dim room at UMass Medical Center.
It's 1979, Jon Kabat-Zinn sits cross-legged here,
on a black zafu, eyes half-closed,
teaching us to make calm from the void.
Your vibration cuts through the morning chill,
68 degrees, sandalwood smoke curling like thoughts.

[Chorus]
Singing bowl, you teach me to listen,
to the space between strikes,
where nothing becomes everything.
From emptiness, we pull serenity,
like Jon said, awareness blooming
in the present, non-judgmental breath.
Make calm out of nothing at all,
your hum my anchor in the storm.

[Verse 2]
I address you now, old friend,
as patients shuffle in, cushions creaking,
chronic pain etched on their faces from '78 trials.
You ring out at 5:30 AM, signaling the start,
green tea steam rising nearby, unsweetened, mindful sips.
Jon quotes himself, that velvet breath texture,
a patient's words from session three,
stuck in his notebook, page 47.
Your tone lingers, woody incense blending,
grounding us in this hardwood-floored haven.

[Chorus]
Singing bowl, you teach me to listen,
to the space between strikes,
where nothing becomes everything.
From emptiness, we pull serenity,
like Jon said, awareness blooming
in the present, non-judgmental breath.
Make calm out of nothing at all,
your hum my anchor in the storm.

[Bridge]
What of those lost voices, the unnamed ones?
Marginalized sitters in '79 shadows,
their transformations whispers you alone heard.
You vibrate still, holding their silences,
teaching resilience without words.

[Verse 3]
Strike again, let the hum build,
from nothing, calm rises like dawn light.
Jon's program, MBSR born here,
in this room with your eternal note.
I feel it in my nerves, the shift,
from chaos to still point, your gift.

[Outro]
Make calm... out of nothing... at all.