The Melodic Unknown: A Journey of Discovery

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the poplars we hung our harps, for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? Psalm 137
There is a central story that is burned into our DNA. It is the story of a place of beginning, a genesis, a place called home: a familiar place, imperfect, but hopefully a place of belonging.
Then, for many, there comes a pivotal moment, always unexpected, traumatic and severely brutal, when the water breaks and you are cast out from the womb of your familiar existence. For some, this leads to a self-imposed exile, but for most this is a blinding and confusing tragedy. Most people never land on their emotionally sound feet again and are left to fend for themselves. The great primal need to survive brings out the grotto of darkness from our souls.
On this road of trauma you meet other pilgrims, and their accounts seem similar to that of your own. They tell you of the slumber of normal life, the marionette-like goings-on of routine existence, the adolescent innocence where one accepts the world as it is presented to you by your family: their cultural norms and the religious worldview imposed on you by your peers, the status quo.
It is the mentality of the herd, grazing on the foothills of the expected, safe in their together-ness but strangely unaware of the wolves of life circling their domain. Then, suddenly, there is a noise, a shocking realisation that predatory forces are among the herd. The sheep are confused, and the upsetting ordeal forces them to scatter into the darkness of the unknown. Some tend to eventually gather again in small groups, finding other victims from the harrowing scattering.
But there are some who never find their way home again. The familiar music of their earlier lives has faded into a dreadful abyss. These lost ones are not lost. If they choose life, they will find a new sound, a melody resonating through the nameless void of existence before the advent of time as we know it.
And this, dear friend, is the stuff of life. It is the knowledge that the terrible deluge that so brutally forced you down the tributary of life will voyage you downstream to a new existence. It is quite acceptable to forget the melodies of your youth. It is fitting to learn a new song: a song that only you can sing. It is the music of new life, the melody that will accompany you on the pilgrimage of self-discovery and the awakening to a new life.
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
