Ever since I was young, I’d say 8 or 9 years old, music has been important to me. When I was in 6th grade in 1996 I got the chance to join the school band. That started my ‘career’ in music. A weird little kid with a clarinet.
Eventually, the clarinet became boring and the saxophone, the guitar, bass guitar, drums, piano, percussion and singing came along. It wasn’t until my junior year in high school that I realized why music was so important to me.
The revelation came in a psychology class. We were given a sheet of paper with 6 boxes on it. Each box had a symbol in it and it was up to us to draw around them, and get a ‘reading’ from there. One symbol was a music note, and I fill in the box with different shards of color and strong lines. Music is bold. Music is colorful. Music is life.
The results came back a couple weeks later, and the ‘reading’ from the music box stuck with me the most. Was it holding me in, or was it letting me out? I couldn’t answer that question. I don’t know if I can even now, six years later.
I know now, that without the self reflection and the outer experssion of music, the playing, the writing, the singing, I wouldn’t be as happy a person as I am today. Music is my therapy. Music is my beer I cry into when the bars have all closed. Music is the arms I run into when the days been too hard for me on my own. Even now, there’s music playing as I write this.
Music isn’t easy, music isn’t hard. Music isn’t light and its not dark. Music is life. Life is music. Nothing that can be said in any other way, can be said with music. As cheesy as it sounds now, to end this essay, this I believe.
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