kellyhughes1970
31/365 The Happiness Project
Today is September 18, 2009.
Music touches and changes my life daily.
I'm reading a very interesting book right now called "This Is Your Brain On Music" by Daniel J. Levithin, in which he attempts to deconstruct the elements that make music move us the way it does. A difficult task, if it is possible at all. Music, like love, is a prime example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Tangible yet unexplainable, it is the mystery that makes it so delicious.
Who can explain why tonight at the Royal Wood concert I wept at his performance of a song he wrote for his brother's wedding, and an hour later I was rocking out to Rage Against The Machine? How can each of these artists have such wildly swaying pendulums of style and yet manage to touch something inside me I didn't even know was there?
Something different happens again when I play. During the day I often get an overwhelming urge to sit at the old piano which once belonged to my grandfather, or pick up my guitar and sing. I seldom play for people; playing music for me is like writing in my journal or confiding in an old friend.
Happiness today was a little turn at the piano, and pure joy at the Dublin Street United Church where a real master played. One solitary experience, one shared, both bliss.
31/365 The Happiness Project
Today is September 18, 2009.
Music touches and changes my life daily.
I'm reading a very interesting book right now called "This Is Your Brain On Music" by Daniel J. Levithin, in which he attempts to deconstruct the elements that make music move us the way it does. A difficult task, if it is possible at all. Music, like love, is a prime example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Tangible yet unexplainable, it is the mystery that makes it so delicious.
Who can explain why tonight at the Royal Wood concert I wept at his performance of a song he wrote for his brother's wedding, and an hour later I was rocking out to Rage Against The Machine? How can each of these artists have such wildly swaying pendulums of style and yet manage to touch something inside me I didn't even know was there?
Something different happens again when I play. During the day I often get an overwhelming urge to sit at the old piano which once belonged to my grandfather, or pick up my guitar and sing. I seldom play for people; playing music for me is like writing in my journal or confiding in an old friend.
Happiness today was a little turn at the piano, and pure joy at the Dublin Street United Church where a real master played. One solitary experience, one shared, both bliss.