Healing Music

Every night, fatigue slammed my body against massive boulders and left me pulverized under the crush of torrential storms and swollen rivers. By the end of the week, I was so tired that creative thought was not an option and my spirit was too heavy for transport. The weekend was a blur and the few moments alone were spent re-applying under eye concealer and changing clothes for the next activity. It ended Sunday night at a jazz concert.

In the historic auditorium, the talented saxophonist did not play his instrument. Instead, he played my heart with long, slim fingers that deftly merged our pulses using the background rhythms of drums and organ. He poured his soul into my molecules and lifted my weighted spirit into the air. Music flowed in the musicians’ veins and I flowed with them tumbling down waterfalls and into swirling foam. We flung our cares into the controlled chaos of the watery abyss and floated on the still of peace. Soon, the only evidence of our journey shone in the lingering moisture in my eyes.

I received more than the joy of hearing good music played by extraordinary musicians, and I certainly received back more than the event ticket price. The ensemble gave me the gift of contentedness. For two hours, I was absorbed into the keys of well loved instruments and thought of nothing; worried about nothing; wished for nothing. For a few short hours, I lived in the music and felt shared heartbeats. I heard the chords and soared in the wind on harmonic tones of life. I was alive and in the place that was exactly where I was supposed to be --in the present moments of my life.