Music is a way for me, when words fall short, to express myself. It is a conduit; I am pulled by a ferocious flow, but also one that I manipulate, form, and direct.
I am at the helm of a makeshift raft when I am writing, my path regulated by some inexorable, inscrutable force harnessed and directed by my feelings.
I am a passenger while I listen, feeling the splash of water on my face and the whining of wood on wood as the hull struggles with your navigation. Where will you take me? Why have you embarked on this risky journey? Behind the next bend, what secrets lie?
I am the vessel when I perform, driven by the same power, but I give in this time, filled with an energy that ripples out of my fingertips as I raise them out of my instrument. My thoughts become sounds and my movements, as the waves push and pull rhythmically, become music.
These waves can be loud and vigorous, and they can be powerful and quiet. They can be delicate and thin, and they can be welcoming and warm. They can be positive and rewarding, and they can be devastating and harsh. Music is all of these things at once – the coexistence of conflicting feelings (sometimes abrasive, sometimes thrilling), taking shape as waves and swirling together in vibrant eddies and inlets.
A river is music; an overflowing conduit in which we are travelers, navigators, makers.
Music is an auditory landscape captured, an image that tells a story, a faltering momentary voice that betrays its true emotions. The only universal language, a contact tool spanning continents.
The Path is Music. The ups and downs and twists and curves make for a bumpy ride, but one you’ve never felt so alive before.