The Place Where Music Lives

In the quiet darkness the cavern feels boundless. A low note reverberates through the space giving rise to thousands of mesmerising shapes. Coloured in hues of turquoise and emerald, they are breathtaking as they dance to the symphony.

The shapes are music, and I am the cavern.

Where does music live? In the instrument that generates it, the sound waves that carry it to my ears, or in the signals being deciphered by the brain? In this moment I know the answer is none of those. The music only exists in the space of consciousness.

I am the place where music lives.

The next day I feel compelled to run in the rain with this phrase echoing through my mind.

The wetness across my face, that pitter patter sound, the smell of rain, the howl of the wind and its force against my chest.

I am the place where rain falls.

The glistening leaves and grass, waving in the wind.

I am the awareness of green and the exuberance of life.

My feet against the ground, the sensations of my breath and heart.

I am the space from which the body takes form.

And not just the body, but the entire landscape. That where emotions are felt, where thoughts arise, where desires are born and let go.

Consider it for yourself, "Where does music live?"

 

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