Beyond words

Music

While I write this line of text, I start something new. A new experience, a new creation. Before typing the first letter of each sentence, I do not know what the the next line will be. The blank screen invites me to type, and to focus closely on what I want to say.

A part of me is scared. English is not my language. Dutch should be, but neither that really is. Music is the only language I truly speak; the only that really helps me to say what I want to. And even the music really speaks up on rare occasions.

On these rare moments, I hold my guitar, close my eyes and sing what comes up in my mind without rethinking the words I choose and the chords I play. The sounds, echoing trough my basement and climbing up the walls, will not make a logic sentence, nor tell a story anyone can really understand. I couldn’t tell you the meaning. My feelings are speaking. For most of them there are no words. For them there is only music.

On these rare moments it is as if my thoughts speak to myself. They find a channel out of my head that opens up the moment I hold my guitar. Sometimes they rush out with the speed of light, sometimes they swim slowly, sometimes they fly and dart up.

Opening a blank (Medium) writing sheet almost feels the same as picking up the guitar, but I am limited by words in what I want to tell you.

For me, that’s why making music is the most beautiful thing in the world.