My mom will admit that I sung before an intelligble word could leave my mouth. Every roommate can attest to constant notes filling the house, often more annoying than pleasing. At twelve years old, I was drawn to the violin. Because of other passions and interests, my violin has been collecting dust for about four years. Music is not my profession, I didn’t study music, and I perhaps would not even call it a talent. But it is a love and a freedom. And even when I leave it behind, it calls out to me. Because with it, I call out to the universe, I ask questions, I plead, I explore, I relax, I breathe. In the depths of despair, my voice is an outlet. And with it I can express my moments of joy.
Words are incredibly powerful. Writing is another escape for me. It allows me to slowly and profoundly express an idea and form my opinions, which often in spoken word are unformed and unintelligble. Writing thinks critically and constructs carefully, while leaving space for questions, while not be bombarded by their expiration.
I’m not a speaker. But music allows and easy transition for ideas and concepts to be spoken aloud. Music doesn’t mask words. Rather, words are magnified by the power of music.
I am a giddy thing. I try one thing, and do another. I am impassioned for one idea, and finish the day writing another. But one thing remains constant: that I always explore and expand and grow.
Once, Shakespeare wrote:
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
And Mumford & Sons so passionately sang:
Sigh no more, no more One foot in sea, one on shore My heart was never pure And you know me And you know me
And man is a giddy thing
Don’t only practice your art.
But force your way into its secrets,
For it and knoweldge can
Raise men to the divine.
Ludwig van Beethoven
What is your art? How do you pracitce it? What secrets do you find?
roam&wander 