The Music Saved Me
December 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
And the music saved me.
I don’t know how it did, I couldn’t tell you that. It had no arms, no firm hands with which to catch me. No legs, no eyes, no elbows. But it crept into my veins and flowed within my brain and screamed within my heart and thundered in my soul. It found the enemy, caught him in the act, lurking and dark, and the music beat him mercilessly, high and low and long. High, low, long. And everything became blindingly clear, the world in hyperfocus, I could see everything, everything in the trees and the people and the buildings and the world. And still the music hammered within me, driving again and again at the enemy and dancing in my veins and rejoicing in the oddest of places, the back of my throat and the balls of my feet. It was as if I was drowning in the purest of lakes, icy cold water streaming down my throat and filling up my eyes. But I did not need rescuing, the drowning was the rescue, for the water was cold and pure and wonderful, so wonderful I could not get enough, and I drank and drank it all and still the lake was wet. In the drowning I could breathe, breathe like I never could before in the polluted air of living. My whole being tingled in the cold and it blazed in the fire and my heart was singing so loud that it rattled the rib cage and I was saved, I was undeniably saved.
It was the music.
And the music saved me.
I don’t know how it did. I couldn’t tell you that. It had no arms, no hands with which to catch me. It’s not human, after all. And perhaps that was why it could save me, because it wasn’t here or now or what is. It was a force. Is a force. It was what is above, what is around, what is not on the ground. The first few notes fell hard on my ears and I pushed away, and they pushed back. The next fell lightly on my lap, tickling my front and playing with my fingers, and it was as if I could not help but giggle. Then they whispered sweet, tantalizing secrets into my ears and danced at my feet and pulled at my legs and I was moving. I was moving. My being started to vibrate, every inch of me trembling with power and joy, and I became afraid. I wanted to hide, to go, to lock the notes away and push them out of view. But the notes were clever. They sensed the fear, they caressed my hair and kissed my cheek and held me close. They opened my throat so that I could breathe, and so I started, I breathed, for the first time I did. And it was magical. I breathed and the notes applauded. I breathed and they jumped to their feet and cried out in adoration. I breathed and they yelled out, Encore!, and I breathed again. Still I vibrated and pulsed and beat and my heart started to move, to kick into gear, to begin its work. The crowd was cheering and I was dancing and singing and I was music.
It saved me.