One sorts through the pile of stones to find their source. It is hard to discern. One filters them smaller and smaller. Made of the same building blocks, they become more prevalent and discernable as one filters finer and finer until finally the makeup is clear. One does not disparage the rock, for it is more of the finer, only not identified as easily.
The bird sings behind the noise of the city. It is noticed more as the quiet grows.
The smell of the rose is overpowered by that of the refinery, but it is still there.
The salt in the ocean becomes stronger as the water evaporates.
One turns the heart and breath toward the Source and rises to it. In refinement and concentration it becomes more noticed until that is all that remains. And along the way it is perceived and felt that this makes up all the stages also.
Turning from self toward self-less-ness is the movement toward love expressed. When concentrated upon oneself, solid, passion rules and is pressing. When one turns away from personal desire to the desire of the Song, the flute is born - to sing the song and produce the music the hearer needs. One can not inhale through the flute and hear the music at the same time as the outward breath. One becomes small, the other large and flows to the sky and beyond. As the mirror of the heart is polished, the fragments grow and coalesce - no more a kaleidoscope - and the image of love is there.