Music moves me. A beautiful song or well-written lyrics can have me processing for days. My whole being can ache when a song is meaningful, and I love hearing the way the sounds and the meaning all come together to make an intricate piece. If a good song is playing, I will stay wherever I am before I move on, just to hear it come to its completion, because I find beauty in that.
I love that songs are created and crafted, and can be revised and renewed and redone. I love that they can be so poignant and meaningful, a result of the situation they are meant for, yet carry such different meanings and notions and still be just as poignant for the listener. I love when a song is considered, not just heard. I love to learn an artist, by the way they make their music and delve into their craft.
I love how a song can be robust and full, with exquisite notes and harmonies, full instrumentation and lovely crescendos. And I love how a song can be simple, and still hit a chord of emotion and beauty that wouldn’t have come if the scores were filled to the brim.
And I’m trying to love this in life too. I have always loved the parts of life that are full and robust, filled with laughter and love and joy. Filled with conversation and people and children’s voices. Filled with notes and harmonies that feel so good and so pure, like you know you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
But I forget about the other songs. The simple ones. Those songs where messages are hidden, where contentment must be found in the littlest of sounds. Where the crescendo has yet to come. There is always a part of life meant for waiting, for the small notes, so the big ones have something to build upon. Adding instrument by instrument, the starting soft can be very hard when all I want to do is be the big notes. I want to play with all my heart, I want to feel the keys underneath my fingers and know that I am giving everything I have to it. And I so easily forget that its possible to be passionate, to love the song, even when its soft. Even when its simple. Because sometimes simple is good, and simple teaches things. And I need to learn from the simple before the bigger notes come, before the dissonant notes hit. My hands need to learn the chords and my heart needs to learn the rhythm before any music can be made, or the music won’t be good at all.
But like a child, I want to hit the keys without knowing a thing, and pray that the sound comes out profoundly, though I know it would sound like noise. And I don’t want to be noise.
So I will learn. I will learn the notes of my song, and not another, though I might love the way theirs is being written in comparison to mine. And I will choose to sing with passion the words that are laid out for me. And I hope that the song will become beautiful.