I was walking to the bank today and I passed by a car with all of its windows open. In that car was an older, gray haired, black gentleman listening to music (kind of loudly.) I only heard seconds of the music (because I tend to walk really fast.) But in those seconds I was transported to another planet. Another dimension. He was listening to jazz. I don’t think the type of music is what’s important. (Although I did feel like back tracking after I passed him to ask what artist he was listening to.) What struck me is the power of feeling being carried by waves, by vibration. To me truth lives in the formless. In the space, in the ether, in the spirit, in the energy. It can move you like the wind.
The wind is probably the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced in my whole life. I think music is a lot like wind. It’s an expression. Sometimes it feels strong & mean, other times graceful & feminine, most of the time t’s subtle, unpredictable and mysterious. Regardless of how it expresses itself, it lives with us and it’s something we can’t put our finger on. Like the wind moves the trees or the paper off our desks, music moves us and sweeps us off our feet.
When I hear Mozart or Barber, I stop in my tracks. I immediately get in touch with my deepest thoughts. When I hear Bob Marley or Alpha Blondy, I feel love, I feel the oneness of humanity. When I hear Louie Armstrong I feel a lightness, a form of surrender to all that life is, be it easy or difficult. What would life be like without these conversations? Without music?