As With Seasons

Beauty is defined as, “the quality present in a thing or person that gives intense pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind”. There is nothing in the world that gives me as strong a pleasure or as deep a satisfaction as does music. The simplicity of a song can be matched only by its extreme implications and depth. “After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” – Aldous Huxley. A song has the potential to unlock vaults in the deepest caverns of our being and allow oceans of unknown perspectives and viewpoints to come flowing all around me. A piece of music has the ability to derive my any and every emotion. Music can make me smile and laugh and it can sweep me past the brink of tears. Every feeling, every thought, every action is enhanced by the rolling tide of melody and harmony. Nothing embodies mankind as completely as music; nothing else is as diverse, as difficult to predict, or as eternal. As there are different stages in man’s ever binding life cycle, music personifies each and every different part of life.
When a life begins, the purity and innocence of a young life is a rare and extravagant thing. A child knows not the hardships and toils life will inevitably bring, but for a short and precious time is consumed with wonder by the love and warmth of his mother, the new and surreal bright world around him, and the vast sea of knowledge surrounding him. His mother is filled with an unimaginable kind of tender love and care for this child that she held within her for so long. As she gazes down on her baby, she vows to always be his source of protection and a shield against the harsh world. These feelings are unique to this kind of relationship, and as strong as these mind-states are, they do not last on one end. For while in the womb, tainted light and polluted noise couldn’t reach the child, but when removed from the haven of safety, one breath begins the infant’s long and painful journey that is life.
Beauty is not only found within the confines of the light, but also in the depths of darkness. Life is struggle. Life is toil. Life is a constant battle for survival. Each gasping breath is as dear and precious as the one before. From the moment a child is ripped from the hands of his mother, he is introduced with one painful object, idea, or consequence after another. The warmth is replaced with biting cold, the darkness replaced with searing light, and the soft touch of a mother replaced with the chaliced hands of a surgeon. We are prepared for war from the moment we take our first steps. Life instills in us self-preservation; we are prepared to defend ourselves at all costs—no matter who is harmed. After the dust of battle has cleared, nothing is left but hurt and loss, weariness and emptiness. As the music presses on, I can almost feel the weight of generations past within me. With every push and pull of the strings, I take one feeble step after another, slowly trudging along, on this path that is life.
Everything on this earth has a beginning and an end, and life is not excluded. We have one certainty to look towards: that we will not be here forever. As the sun rises and then sets, an empire rises and falls, a river has a mouth and an outlet, our eyes open and then close. Death fills every crack, every crevice. I am faced with the shocking reality of our situation every time I take notice of my surroundings. Dead animals litter the streets, news of murder and suicide fill the news, and obituaries fill the newspapers. Every precaution can be made, every step taken to ensure survival, but in the bitter end, we will realize how utterly alone we really are. And as high and as bright as the midday sun can shine, twilight comes as a harbinger for the cold night pressing in.
It is said that there is no such thing as darkness, only the absence of light—that once the sun sets under the horizon, the only thing keeping me in the dark is my unwillingness to look at the bright moon illuminating the sky. As the soft voices and strokes of rhythm gently resonate around me, I once again feel the desire to press on, the strength to finish the race. For as solitary as the road through this life may be, I have hope that my time is unfinished, that I may live on forevermore in a pool of warmth and light. The music of every generation and every people tell of the history of mankind. Every sad harmony with a lonely violin tells the story of a man whose life’s work amounted to little more than a waste basket filled with crumpled paper. Every pulse of the rolling symphony personifies the radiant joy of a people whose refusals to be silent won them their freedom. For as dark as the night may be, an explosion of reds, yellows, and oranges is just moments away.





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