This week has been full of many thoughts. I’ve been thinking about this post all week, really looking forward to it, and I’ve been planning what I would write about. Each day I came up with something new, something that I thought was an interesting topic to address. I think it’s now that I finally understand when I have heard people say that coming up with a topic is not the hard part. In the end, what took me so long to actually write this post was choosing which topic I wanted to write about. Ah, but I am blabbering on and holding you back to the real meat of the matter, which is the entire point of this post anyway. So, without further ado, I give you my topic.
Friday, my school had a percussion concert and while I listened to the sounds that caressed my ears, I started to think about music and how it fuels my imaginings. I love going to symphonies and orchestras for a couple of reasons, mainly in that the music is so… sonorous, so beautiful, that being able to just sit and be enveloped by it is a great privilege. Over time, what I’ve found to be the best way to absorb the melodies that swirl around me is to close my eyes. The musicians before me, after all, are not being played so that they can be watched, but rather so that they can be heard. And when I close my eyes, I find that I can’t help but to put a story to the music.
A sonorous beat will cause me to imagine the tromp of many soldiers as they file their way to the battlefield. A flute shows me a meadow blooming with spring flowers while pixies dance in the air. A violin, played quickly, exudes the sounds of a chase through the streets of a city as a thief desperately tries to escape his pursuers. I guess it is the writer in me. I cannot help but to create stories out of the smallest situations, and melodies beg to be created into a story.
I’ve started to take advantage of this when I am writing. I’ve created a youtube, as well as a pandora, playlist that plays orchestra and symphony music for me. Then, when I am having particular trouble coming up with a particular word, phrase, or even a scene (when I am writing for fun and not an assignment), I close my eyes and the music leads me to it. It is as if my mind has been taken in hand by my Muse and, as she flits before me just out of reach, she ends up leading me to exactly what I am looking for. Then, with a soft laugh and sparkling eyes, she shows me more that I could add on that I hadn’t seen previously, something so wonderful and genius that it leaves me amazed at the wonder of it all.
So, in a way, orchestra and symphony music has become a form of my Muse, who refuses to be defined by such a paltry, human definition. I don’t really mind, though. After all, aren’t musicians and composers trying to tell us a story, in their own way? Why else would they name their works after fathers and lovers, sadness and happiness? I think that, by taking their creation and allowing it to tell me a story, I am simply taking the words they could not find and putting them down on paper. What else can I do, but humbly follow my Muse?