Music has always been magical for me. Whether it’s Kate Rusby’s fairytale-esque folk music, a brokenhearted Chopin Nocturne, the hard bite of Switchfoot sound and lyrics, or simply when I’m geeking out to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack . . .
I choose the music, and then, impossibly, the music seems to choose me. Reaches out and grips me, pulls me in until I’m no longer myself, but part of something greater. Ethereal and unworldly, I shiver out of my own skin and dive deep into unexplored parts of myself. The things I thought I knew float away, unheeded and unimportant. New landscapes open. Memories long buried begin to surface. Images unimagined begin to form. Inspirations cascade and collide and merge until nothing exists but the music and the way my soul hears it, drinks it, dances to it.
But only the best music can do that. Only the song that hits you, unexpected, just when you are vulnerable. Or the song that you reach toward in desperate need and longing. The song you are hearing for the first time, and will never hear the same way again. The song that, unbidden, turns your heart over like a stone to uncover the treasure hiding beneath.
There’s nothing like music. Nothing like the poetry of notes rising and falling, words riding upon them. Much like a well-told story, music has the ability to find the shortcut, the hidden passageway through the conscious mind and cut straight to the heart of you, right to the source of who you are.
God didn’t make a mistake when he planned it that way. Music is the call that allows us to see heaven, to see His face more clearly. The thing that can, if we let it, lead us home.
“Where words leave off, music begins.” (Heinrich Heine)
What does music do to you?