Music Springs
I woke up this morning with a song running through my head...
barefoot and smiling...
They have a tendency to do that.
It was an old Dylan tune, but it could as easily have been something new this year or something centuries old. It might have been nearly any style and as likely to have lyrics as not. There's a wide range of songs that bubble up in my head unexpectedly, but each one is clear and singular when it makes its appearance, the star performer on its stage. I feel it in my ears just as if it were playing in the physical world rather than only in my mind, and my whole being resonates with its notes. What a wonderful way to wake up, swept along on a current of song.
Music has a way of seeping in and possessing me. I may not remember the title or artist. I may not remember the words, but for the moment I'm listening, I'm entirely there, submerged in it, listening with more than ears. The connection to the song remains long after, ready to well up like a natural spring without warning. I can't be the only one so possessed, and I wonder if these water-like qualities of music are what prompts so many to geyser into song while showering.
I think the world has never been as completely infused with music as it is today. It plays in our shopping centers and elevators. It provides a constant backdrop to our television shows and movies, so entwined with the story that we barely notice it's there and only feel unbalanced when it vanishes. It's a regular component of commercials, sporting events, and video games. With radio and recordings, the magic is at our fingertips, accessible any hour of the day. Just turn on the tap and let it flow.
For those like myself with no real musical talent, it's surely a blessing. A simple trip to the library's CD collection can satisfy most of my musical cravings. No need to rely on clumsy fingers or a voice that can't match the passion of the moment.
Oh, I'll still sing along.
That's part of the appeal. Somewhere on a primal level, music connects us. It gives a voice to what we feel, and like wolves, we instinctively join the howl.
I give all honor to musicians, though, not only for the craft, the talent, and the joy their art creates, but also for that special connection I know will always elude me. We love best those things which are close, but clearly not ours. A lover may have similar interests, but we admire them all the more for the ways we differ.
So, I will go on loving music and welcome that lover's visits with open arms. I'll continue to adore the squeak of a guitarist's finger gliding against the string or the rich, round feel of a drum beat. Though I may never be the water, at least I can swim a while in music springs.
barefoot and smiling...
They have a tendency to do that.
It was an old Dylan tune, but it could as easily have been something new this year or something centuries old. It might have been nearly any style and as likely to have lyrics as not. There's a wide range of songs that bubble up in my head unexpectedly, but each one is clear and singular when it makes its appearance, the star performer on its stage. I feel it in my ears just as if it were playing in the physical world rather than only in my mind, and my whole being resonates with its notes. What a wonderful way to wake up, swept along on a current of song.
Music has a way of seeping in and possessing me. I may not remember the title or artist. I may not remember the words, but for the moment I'm listening, I'm entirely there, submerged in it, listening with more than ears. The connection to the song remains long after, ready to well up like a natural spring without warning. I can't be the only one so possessed, and I wonder if these water-like qualities of music are what prompts so many to geyser into song while showering.
I think the world has never been as completely infused with music as it is today. It plays in our shopping centers and elevators. It provides a constant backdrop to our television shows and movies, so entwined with the story that we barely notice it's there and only feel unbalanced when it vanishes. It's a regular component of commercials, sporting events, and video games. With radio and recordings, the magic is at our fingertips, accessible any hour of the day. Just turn on the tap and let it flow.
For those like myself with no real musical talent, it's surely a blessing. A simple trip to the library's CD collection can satisfy most of my musical cravings. No need to rely on clumsy fingers or a voice that can't match the passion of the moment.
Oh, I'll still sing along.
That's part of the appeal. Somewhere on a primal level, music connects us. It gives a voice to what we feel, and like wolves, we instinctively join the howl.
I give all honor to musicians, though, not only for the craft, the talent, and the joy their art creates, but also for that special connection I know will always elude me. We love best those things which are close, but clearly not ours. A lover may have similar interests, but we admire them all the more for the ways we differ.
So, I will go on loving music and welcome that lover's visits with open arms. I'll continue to adore the squeak of a guitarist's finger gliding against the string or the rich, round feel of a drum beat. Though I may never be the water, at least I can swim a while in music springs.
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