So I’ve been listening to the type of music that speaks to me on a level far beyond simply being moved or relating to the words. It’s music that I feel like I can see the source, where I know its origins from the perspective of the musician. It’s based on experiences, on going-throughs, on something so visceral as to take that slice of life and the perspective of the songwriter and pour it into the medium of music, releasing it into the air and letting it unfurl wings and be lifted by the air that can only carry melody.
I hear what the artist is saying. I feel what the artist is expressing. I feel it because I have been that artist. I have been in that place where untapped, unfettered, and undefined experience marinated in emotion must be expressed and expelled, must be given birth and allowed to walk on their own. To run.
So I feel this music and it pulls me toward wanting to pick up the guitar and write, express. But somehow I wonder if the music is speaking to that part of me that was once the living bard rather than the dabbling song maker I am now. I wonder if it is awakening the part of me that used to be, the part of me that held inside that constant ember that threatened to combust the fuel of emotion extracted from the experiences of youth. But that was a different person. Am I truly feeling the inspiration that is carried on the back of the music I’m hearing, or am I simply examining the fossils the music has dug up, the artifacts of emotional intensity that at one time had stirred my own muse that I kept on staff?
At this point of my life, life is great. Life is just what and where I want it to be. I have a basket of joy and contentment and simple pleasures that I nibble on on a regular basis. The songs of my past were born of angst and frustration and constant self-examination that seemed to chase its own tail. As tantalizing and compelling as the feeling of expressing that kind of internal tumult can appear, I have no desire to create and live in and breathe in the atmosphere that gives rise to it, that creates the catalyst to bond the chemicals that are required for those musical concoctions of my past.
So I listen to the music and allow myself to be stirred, to nod with respectful recognition to the artist and his creations. I realize his songs serve as reminders of the components that have created the framework of who I am today. I have learned how to feel it without having to be it.