An inner melody

In the stairhouse of the Franz Liszt Musicschool in Weimar he seemed to be listening carefully to some divine music that the rest of us couldn't hear. Photo by Dalla

My mother tells a story of finding me once standing outside the balcony of our apartment in the middle of a thunderstorm with my arms outstretched pretending I was conducting the weather. Bach's Toccata e Fuga in D minor played loudly from our stereo inside the living room. The way she tells it, I had set the needle to the record player, cranked up the volume real high and with my stage all set, I stepped into the pouring rain. That's how she found me. Grinning from ear to ear while getting soaked. Later, while she dried me out, she demanded to know what I'd been thinking. The truth was that I had wanted to pretend I was Mickey Mouse, like in the movie Fantasia, in that scene where he directs the water while Dukas' the Sorcerer's Apprentice plays. All I had wanted was to be like Mickey. I wanted to command a storm. Could the music I chose to do so have been any more appropriate?

Music, has always been a decider of moods for me. I place great weight on what I choose to listen to daily because invariably, it sets the tone. I put it on, but whatever I play, conducts me, commands me. Does this make any sense?

I've always felt that music of any kind has immense power. I must be about the gadjillionth person to say so but that doesn't make it any the less true. We listen to music for pick me ups, for let me downs and everything else in between. Raise your hand any of you who cannot identify some moment of your life with one unforgettable melody. Should it be dissonance and noise, even that is an identifier. You don't exist do you? Unless, you who reads me, is someone who can truly, not hear.

I love my ability to sense, taste, see and touch but I think that should I ever lose any sensorial capacity, perhaps the one I would miss the most, would be my ability to detect sound. Sound guides and paints for me. All sound really. Even its lack thereof. Sometimes, I hum myself internally to sleep. That is the best kind of oneness with myself, the one that leads me into silence.

I love to sing. I love harmonies being put together, many voices working as one. I love surges and ebbs in melodies. Great oceans of tones melding and separating. I love great and small silences and the short respite of empty spaces. Music is one of my greatest joys.

What brought this reverie on? My son too loves music. That makes me incredibly happy. It will help and hold him all his life and I truly believe, that this is a blessing like few others.

To hear my voice reading this post, click here.