In the beginning there was no word. It came late to the dance. And when it did come it was poetic and part of the dance, until they carved and chiselled it in stone, then wrote it down. From that point on it was fixed, static. Easier to think about. Easier for the priests and scholars to get their heads around. 

  But Shamans, Mystics and Artists were never fooled. 

  Listen to one of them:

  “The spirit comes to guide me in my need, I write, ‘In the beginning was the Deed.'”—Goethe, Faust Part I

  Or how about this from India:

  “Words are only shells. Win conviction of God’s presence through your own joyous contact in meditation.”—Paramhansa Yogananda, Autobiography Of A Yogi 

  Or this, from Japan: 

  “When Zen gives utterance to itself, it goes against the intellect so as to upset it from its very foundation; the intellect loses its way and stands completely dazed.”— D.T. Suzuki, Living By Zen

  I happen to be partial to Zen. 

  It is a oneness with the Flow of Life. Its special and altogether unique approach to directing people towards that Flow is its absolute refusal to make use in any way whatsoever with that which is static—meaning the intellect—whether through ideology, symbol, ritual, you name it. 

  Because (Wordless) Life is ALL there is….

  Sometimes it helps if you hum…..

  AUMmmmmmm….