There's substances I've enjoyed since my first memories. The lasagna my Mom made when I was 5, the smell of freshly cut field grass in the country, the first sounds that made my insides carve their way outward for the first time.
These sounds, as they were then, were the first to bare me to witness love, and naturally, quickly fall out of it - despising the thought that I were ever gullible enough to fall for the bait.
But these songs. These glimpses of life that were brighter than the characters beaming on the TV, and seemingly more important than the people I'd grown to love in my life, had an almost too strong grip on me. I have a pretty strong will - I believe. But the seduction of music has always exhausted my hopes for a Taoist life. Which, I'm fine with. Not happy, but acceptable.
The funny thing about these songs that have made me cry more than any woman, or girl, or deceased loved one, is that I completely play it's game, unashamed. Not as a clueless pawn, or puppet. I do think I'm aware of it's power... I know I am. It's generally accepted as fact that music is one of the most powerful forms of human change there is (no source... this is a blog. It's all BS anyways).
So with this knowledge that music can be so powerful and even life-changing, I tend to get scared. The reason I started playing guitar was not to get girls, although it may have been slightly to be less picked on at the time, it was more than anything, due to the fact that I wanted so desperately to mimic those great artists that shared their gift of song with me. However indirect their intentions.
I wanted to give it back. I never thought I could actually give it back - not the same way I received it. Not so powerfully presented that you break down and kneel before the melody like it's the first real religion, or spirit, or love, you've had.
But here's the thing. I play music that I write and absolutely believe in - for the first few days, or so. After this time, I'm typically angry that I was excited in the first place. At this point I usually start to disassociate myself with the song.
There's a cloud that forms in front of my hopes and give-a-fuck about this music. It slowly begins to suffocate it. The music dwindles and has only be resurrected when a friend throws me a rope, letting me know it was actually enjoyable.
I've always been hyper-sensitive. To everything. I prefer it this way though. I get the sense that so many people have a block on the ability to absorb. To observe and react in-time. Almost everyone I see daily (myself included, now, as I'm in my mid 20's) wield a shield built for insults. The thickest skin always wins.
And, of course, I've been numb... and I do love that too, trust me. Sedatives are a luxury for me. Which is why, as a substance, I'm so careful with them. But my point is that, with this heightened sense of being.... of sound, and interpretation - I just want to be able to focus.
There is no focus in this state of mind. Well, I can write. I'm there right now as I write these words. Hitting each key like an impulse. And correcting each misspelling like a nurse comforts the terminally ill. It's a nice feeling getting this down.
But as for music... she's the most devious seductress I've come across. When you want her, and beg for her to come to you, you'll hear the whistle of silence that comes with empty breezes. You'll feel the deep suspicion that she's elsewhere - playing her dance with others, who you fear are more worthy... and thus, why she's not apparent.
All of this is BS, of course. It's a matter of acceptance and understanding. I learned a long time ago that you can't ask music to come to you. If you do, and it does come, we'll, then bless you, cause you got lucky. Or perhaps you are just farther along the musical Zen path, than I.
But even with these limitations, I still hold music up as the sacred Goddess of life. Love. Humanity. I don't worship music (anymore), but I do feel like I now have a good sense of her inner workings.
Thanks for reading. I can't believe it if you've made it this far.
I wouldn't have.
