It is my last name after all...

I would like to thank the people at Pandora for reuniting me with parts of my mind.

I often "aim" posts at those who have lost faith. Not faith in something beyond this physical plane, but it their fellow human beings. In a way, this is simply defense of my world view. In my little world, we our are only hope. My faith in humanity is what allows me to see another world, a better world.

So, occasionally I wonder why I maintain this belief. I question everything. It is my nature. Why then given the visions of humans at large would I choose to see "good" and light? The answer is simple in a way... music..

Art as a whole would be a more precise answer but avoiding the rhetoric of the definition of art seemed simpler. We as humans have learned to communicate beauty, love, anger, and pain. The greatest among our wordsmiths can evoke emotions regardless of distance, time, or listener. The poets touch us, move us. But over the millenia, we have combined this poetry with mixtures of percussion, vocalizations, vibrating strings, bending reeds, and changes in air pressure. The very air has become our tool. And when combined, the world changes.

There are many that have been moved by Whitman, but everyone knows the words of Lennon and McCartney. Whether or not they moved you... Whether or not you connected with them... The words are there. My very mention of the name has had an effect.

We have done this as a group. We have learned to communicate in moments decades of thoughts, feelings, and knowledge. From those that created the instruments, recording equipment, and broadcast systems, to the artists, to the listeners themselves.

The tones, rhythms, and timing give phrasing to the words. They add a depth the words alone can not. In some cases of spoken word, these tones are from the words themselves, but the very bending of the air around us has the power one would expect. It suffuses us. It penetrates. It evokes.

I would also put forward that it does not overpower at its best. Unlike its cousin the motion picture, it does not attempt to tell the whole story itself. It lets the listener add their own visuals, just as the still photo and work of paint and pen allow the viewer to add their own soundtrack. Yet, it conveys more of the artist intention than the work of print.

Not to downplay the power of any of these works. The emotion of fear has not been evoked by music in my own case, yet movies and live performances have had this effect in numerous cases. The works of Steinbeck have brought tears to my eyes on many occasions. I have felt the joy of protagonists and loathed antagonists and vice versa more times than I can count. The mere mention of the name Jane Austen causes me to become irrational.

But, where I do feel music has an advantage is its response time. A poet with the aid of musical accompaniment can have their effect in moments. Causing listeners to rise up, to come down, to remember the lost, to feel the need for loved ones, to wish for a different time, to wish for time to stand still, to move, to stay still, to dance, to laugh, to smile, to cry...

With this ability to generate beauty... With this power at our disposal... How can I not see the light in my fellow humans? They are all listeners.