I heard there was a secret chord. But you don’t really care for music, do you?
Have a bit of faith. Don’t decide which sense to use yet. Listen…
I went to church this morning. Walking up the sprawling limestone steps front and center, I can see the sun catching the sculpted curves in the granite columns just right. Shadows draw the columns closed like a vertical blind as the minutes pass by. Beyond this first wall of architectural Greek sentries, stand the heavy, ornate, gilded doors opening and closing with each hand that grasps it sternly to either pull it to enter, or push it to exit. The quiet and serenity on this side of the door is being constantly disturbed by the echoes, buzz and reverberations inside.
I like it on this side of the door. The calm and glistening lakefront to the left, and the soaring steel and glass skyline to the right. I do not want to go in any longer. I can learn about natural history, dinosaurs and kindergarten field-trips another day. The music I like is outside on this day.
I went to church this afternoon. Walking towards sun-baked sand simmering in the humidity. Hesitant, dusty breezes whirl lazily at my back as the speeding traffic hums further into the distance. The long and hot, concrete pier soon nears as the air grows heavier and the sun’s glare beats more intensely. I am at the waterfront. My blood is very warm and my shoulders hot, but the water is cool and splashes to my knees, inviting me away from steady land.
I like it on the other side of this shoreline. Floating… sailing… basking… calling. The jet-fighters above, long gone half a mile over the water, when the broken sound-barrier pounded through my body. The distant cheering crowds. The show has begun on this sweltering, perfect summer day. The music I like is on this surface on this day.
I am going to church tonight. I’ve had my fill of sight and sound. I will implore a constant stream of new discoveries, so that each one can ease the last, comfortably and deliberately, into memory. I want new sound; sights… new forms; new smells, and new tastes. But what I need is balance now – I need touch.
I like it on both sides of this sense. I also like my temperature changed. But there is no rhythm without momentum; no threshold without pressure. We know how we can all touch, but no one can tell us how it feels. We look at the same sights, and see something different. We have the math. We have the science. We have the secret chords. Take them with you and throw all the love and all the hate you possibly can at them, and do it without indifference. Start making a small sound… passionately.
Your noise is not what I need. But I do want your music.
