Sliding onto the smooth wooden bench; my back straight, shoulders back, chin up. The wooden cover clapped together as I folded it back, exposing the rows of black and white keys. The hollow vibrations of the strings echoed and hummed in anticipation. The music sheets, browned from wear and age slipped onto my lap as I picked through them. I found what I was looking for and spread the sheets across the music stand in front of me, overlapping each one in order to fit them all. Gently, my fingertips rested on the cool ivory keys. My foot found the pedal and for a moment I wait. The sweetness of the wood mixed with a mustiness that spoke of time and use. A moment is all I needed, before I pressed the keys to produce a beautiful soul-binding sound. In that moment I would wait, my fingers resting, preparing to take the plunge. A deep breath and I’d close my eyes.
At the time I could not have said why. But now I have come to know that moment well. The moment before I create, before I pour my heart into whatever I am doing. The moment before I know a piece of my soul is about to have a physical representation, something that can be seen or heard.
Joy and possibility, nerves and excitement, a moment of peace and turmoil. Then the moment was gone and my fingers laid into those keys, the notes resonating within me. What it sounded like didn’t matter, what other’s thought was of minor note. Lost in the moment, bound for a moment with the artistry of a true master and creator, I was in another realm.
My first journey on the roads of art and expression, and the beginning of discovering something I would never be able live without. A second language; the language of souls.