Music does weird things to me. It acts in synergistic ways with my mind and produces “fancies… which are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language.”*
So I can’t explain them, at least not very well. But so much of what I think, what I write, what is important to me seems echoed in, or drawn from, music.
We fell asleep and began to dream when something broke the night
Memories stirred inside of us – the struggle and the fight
And we could feel the heat of a thousand voices telling us which way to go
And we cried out “Is there no escape from the words that plague me so?”**
Those thoughts that plague us, words that others have used to chastise us, or that we think they would use, if we spoke with them again. Words we use to chastise ourselves. The various influences over who we are and who someone wants us to be. The push and pull of expectations that threatens to rip us asunder unless we find a way to say “Enough!” and find our own path.
In the still and the silent dawn another day is born
Washed up by the tireless waves, the body bent and torn
In the face of the blinding sun, awake only to find
That heaven is a stranger place than what I’ve left behind**
And if we survive that push and pull… If we manage to find our path, beaten and bloody, we may face it, and find that it is nothing like what we expected. We can only hope that it is a better fate than the one we would have had without overcoming what others want from us, for us.
* “A Dream within a Dream” by The Alan Parsons Project
** “Drawn to the Rhythm” by Sarah McLachlan
Entries (RSS)