An artform. A science. A way of life.
This, all this and more, is music. These words don’t define music; rather, music defines these words.
Wherever we come from, and wherever we’re going, we can all agree that music impacts our lives in some way. It provides the backdrop for movies and television, and our thoughts, studies, and work. It keeps us company during our commuting hours, and lets us be alone with ourselves.
Music cheers with us, pumping us up even more when something exciting comes our way. Music holds us when the worst comes into our lives.
Music understands us more than people do sometimes, and it isn’t rare to hear that it saved someone’s life.
A good friend of mine once told me that to sing is to breathe, arc, feel tension build and release it, is to become one with the music, since the body is the instrument of sound. Singing is as old as humanity itself, and I have to believe that this is a gift.
Whether you believe in an intelligent Creator or not, we as the human race, are gifted with song. No matter how foreign the song, it means something to us as people.
Music unites us, for it shows us our own humanity, in the same way as literature, poetry, war, faith, and love do. Yet it also tears apart for this raw display of identity. War hurts. The truth hurts. When music shows us how ugly we’ve become, we argue over it. Some argue that it isn’t truthful enough.
When we fight wars, it’s because we fight for what we believe in, which may not be the truth. Does music show us the truth?
Music shows us a truth, and because there are so many truths out there, we fight. When we’re sad, it shows us the truth that we’re not alone. It weeps with us, telling us that whoever wrote the song feels the same way. The music empathizes with us and begs to be created.
When we love, the music spirals around in our souls, creating itself in us and fleeing before we have the chance to perform it. Yet sometimes, we catch it. Some are better at catching these fleeting butterflies than others, and maybe we fight because we’re jealous.
Music itself isn’t always peaceful. We don’t fight merely over who saw which truth in which song. No, the music stirs us to fight. With its battle marches and noble truths, we believe ourselves so very right, and we follow its lead into the field where we fight.
With blood-thirsty sounds and screeches of metal and glass on living strings, our souls cry out in agony for the right to fight. Music makes us fighters, and that isn’t a horrible thing. If our sole weapons could be the music, if we could use our intellect fully to understand each other the way we all innately understand each other, we wouldn’t have to fight.
That’s just it. We don’t have to fight, but we fight for that right. We wouldn’t be human if we weren’t fighters. When we’re not battling each other, we battle disease, heartache, and the perils of living. Living is not for the weak.
Music spurs us on to fight, to fight for our right to be here on this battlefield of life, so we fight. We’ll fight everyone and everything because we are here to fight.
Music shows us a truth, reveals ourselves to us in our alone time, inspires us, helps us do better, teaches us, empathizes with us. Music is a form of art, of science, of magic.
Music is a part of us. It is that fighter in each of us, coming out and shouting to the world to do better, to keep fighting, for we all fight on this field together, so keep going, cries the music, our music, us.