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A Blog a Day in May

Music: The Most Beautiful Dimension

I’ve just been at the Piano.

I’d like to tell you a story about that, actually. How my piano came to be my ultimate happy place (and healing tool, you might say.)

It’s in my soul, I think. Music. It’s the place I go to escape the world when it gets too noisy, and it’s absolutely the place I go when I need to re-make sense of the world around me.

I suppose you might say I had quite an explosive childhood— and when I say explosive, of course I’m being a bit dramatic (lol). All I mean by ‘explosive’ is that I was a highly sensitive child, and although the world was all sorts of fun and wonderful, my sensitivity sometimes got to me. When the teacher shouted at the kid in the next seat: it wasn’t the kid that felt the brunt of that rage. It was me. I felt it all.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, I needed an outlet, a way to remove the yuck of a world that somehow seemed so much bigger than me. I needed a night light. A safety blanket to catch the waves of emotion, especially the ones that didn’t belong to me.

I still remember asking Mum: ‘Please. Can I have piano lessons?’ to which the reply always came, ‘Brooke. We don’t have a piano.’ Of course, I knew that. But my heart felt like it was being called to. It felt like I just needed to play. I don’t really have the words to explain the pull of such a deep need, but it was there and it never went away until that one special day. My fourteenth birthday, I think. The day I got my first keyboard.

Well. I was beside myself. Here I was, surrounded by lashings of colourful paper, staring at the one thing I intuitively knew I needed. I quickly taught myself to play, which was really just me tinkering away until what I was playing became something that resembled a tune. Soon I was writing songs. When I wrote, I said all the things my heart needed to say, I just let it all go. Whatever wanted to come out. I let it be.

And it felt good. It felt like a wooshing tunnel of wind rushing through me, taking with it all the angry, the sad, the tension. When I played— when I wrote— a new part of me came to life. The right part of me.

The true part of me.

It’s not surprising to me, when I look back, that most of my songs were written when I was in my teenage years, a time of hormones and boys and tears. (Oh, gosh. All the tears.) Those years were a time of absolute truth. A time of boundless dreams, but also a time where the world really could have ended if I happened to be ‘spoken’ to by a teacher that really didn’t know that I was a crier.

When those things made my world explode: I escaped. Into my music, into the wave of beautiful that sang into my bones. And that’s just all sorts of magic to me. That still is all sorts of magic.

My first love. My piano.

Okay. 🙂 Well, that’s enough sop for day two, I suppose. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

I hope.

xx

selective focus photography of piano keys
Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

 

 

By brookecutler2

Liver of life, lover of everything. 💕

3 replies on “Music: The Most Beautiful Dimension”

This is beautiful… making music (with an instrument) is one thing I’ve never really “tried,” that I’ve always wanted to try. I love singing and clapping and can keep a beat with my hands or feet. I feel like it is next on the horizon when I work up the courage to try.

Your post here was a step in the right direction 🙂

Liked by 1 person

Oh gosh. You absolutely should! Music takes you away, and the beautiful thing is that you really don’t need to know how to play. The tune will find you. Do it! As soon as you do you’ll be wondering why you didn’t try it earlier. ☺️I have an electric piano that’s lasted for years. It absolutely does the trick. 🙂💫🌈

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