“Music doesn’t lie. If there is something to be changed in this world, then it can only happen through music.” – Jimi Hendrix
At first there was only vibration.
And before the written word, there was the voice.
Words and sounds were one. Sound arose from instinct, emotion, and exigency. Our ancient yelps and cries, our sighing and our laughter: these sounds were our literature.
It was the last time in human history when word and deed were, by definition, always in harmony with one another.
The past lives within us. The writer hears the old music in silence.
When I write, I spend most of my time listening with my eyes closed, not chasing or groping for the words, but beckoning and accepting them. I know I have written something good when my chest resonates like a singing bowl.
Words contain music. So do emotions. So does experience itself.
What is music? Rhythms, tones, harmonies, dissonances.
What is a heartbeat? It is a drum that fills you with life.
What is the solar system? A waltz, a bolero. Planets repeating their revolutions around the sun in an eternally evolving, polyrhythmic relationship.
I believe in music. Call it idolatry.
I found my writing voice because of music. Only after listening to, playing, studying and composing music for years, did I have any clue what words lay within me.
So I recommend you listen to, play, study, and even compose some music of your own. For years. Pick an instrument and get to know it. Learn about some basic music theory.
Or just pick up a singing bowl.
Let word and deed be one in your writing. Immerse yourself in music.