The Other World: A Poetic Explanation for the Blissful Indulgence of Music

You know that feeling you get when you listen to something really good, and all of the sudden you’re numb to the world? You get that little inner shake, that little thing that makes your brain say mmmm. It’s a feeling that almost forces you to lose yourself in its goodness.
For years, I along with my closest friends and colleagues have been trying to put it to a solid explanation- one finalizing written context that can fully explain why music is awesome.

To no avail, for obvious reasons.

BUT, in my spare time (whoa, that’s a term that doesn’t occur often) I have created a bit of a prose piece, a little story that I believe will strike a chord with many of you. Enjoy!


The Other World

My heart is wound like a clock.
Tangled, stressed, tired.
It Yearns.
Searches for a way to let itself speak without speaking,
escape without leaving,

and pause

while still moving.

I close my eyes.
The piano begins to play, and I find myself at ease with the world. Dozens of notes, combining harmoniously to create the most beautiful chords that have ever been heard. I close my eyes, and suddenly I am lying flat. In my own muted setting, warmly enveloped with pure ecstasy, the piano begins to run and the ever familiar chill invades my body from the neck down.

Soft, slow, smooth, and beautiful, the strings appear. The paternal low voices of cellos give me soft grass to stand on, it’s warm underneath my bare, covered feet. Violins, far above the rest, sing their songs and dance through the world giving me a gentle breeze to taste.

The empty sky is written in a picturesque blue and white when I hear the chirping vibrato of flutes cascading throughout my consciousness. Clarinets whispering their songs create the clouds that shade me from the heat. The vague scent of distant wildflowers and the freshly fallen snow on grass grows ever vivid as the oboes laugh along with saxophones.

Before I’m ready, the prideful boasts of trombones and tubas add their voices to the rest, giving my world its mountains to trek and rivers to forge. Eyes shut, rolling hills and powerful oceans adorn my environment.

My heart begins to beat with the low rumble of timpani, and I take off running, with the drums strengthening my gait through the immense world I have created.
Past trees, forests, valleys, canyons, dunes. The percussion gives my world its sense, order, and structure. No longer am I wandering aimlessly; I know exactly where I am.

Slowing down,

I make it to the endless, breathing shoreline as the sky turns to fall and pause.

The orchestra is gone. The dynamic has changed. Only the piano is left. 

               I sit my tired self down on the sand and lay my arms on my knees, letting my toes be licked by gentle waves and allowing the acoustic guitar to lay me back down. A pillow of sound, a lullaby of six strings, I can look out beyond the palm trees at a vast ocean and enjoy the piano’s waves crashing in the distance. I can close my eyes and completely give myself away to my world. All by myself in a paradise only seen in sound, I’m not lonely. Numb with bliss, I can do nothing but close my eyes, lay in the sand, and look up at the setting sun.


Where did everything go?

My day, what happened to it? Where are my concerns? My symptoms, my pains,

my normality-

What happened?

And in the eye of the storm where the colors of my world begin to soften and the piano strengthens, I understand.
It doesn’t matter right now,

I’m home.

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