There are few place man can find sanctuary in life: philosophy, solitude, and music. Music — those varied waves of sound drumming upon the skin of the ear — within lies a magical capacity to teleport one to a world not governed by hard realities, but rather, a flow of abstractions, symbols and patterns. How transformative such noise is! Producing joy from vibrant contrast of the up and down note. In such music, man feels a presence relaying to him his deepest existential turmoil. It is as if this music is the manifestation of will and desire itself in front of him; an experience of seeing what he feels closest to, and until now unexplainable in his experience.
Importantly, in his acquaintance with music he finds a form of relief: the unconscious, yet, foreign anxiety which struggles to be heard from the skull’s prison may finally speak at great lengths with another who speaks the same language. Such pent up force, at once, dissipates from the walls of his mind, releasing its painful hooks along with it. This is music's chief mysticism, and its grateful benefit to modern man. It is this invisible companion man drags along all his life that he must, through its therapist music, learn to speak gently, tend to and respect. That he may he not squander the good which may come from it, but, instead make the greatest use of it capacity to rouse the emotions and creative instinct within.
Kind thanks to Pixabay for the cover image.