Of my (possibly many) bizarre opinions, I find least occasion to express my convictions concerning music. Just now I queued up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Awg99tk6vys ("So Did We" by Isis), and... for want of a better word, surrendered to it. I had felt that sensation that I associate with 'desire to hear music' which I usually react to by finding music and listening to it, resulting in a lessening of that sensation. As I listened, I felt myself tuned in to it more so than normally, and I was struck again with my conviction that music, as artistic expression, is a form of communication. The music is expressing something to the listener in ways that we don't (normally) have words for. Or at least, I don't have them. Prelude finished, my complete attention was required by the music.

Now, I listen to this particular song A LOT. As in, it is the music I pick by default when I get my "gimme music" feeling. Most often, it functions as satisfactory background accompaniment to whatever else I may be doing. This time, I intended for it to perform it's usual function, but... I couldn't take my focus off of the music. ("Adab" comes to mind here, but there was no memory at work, as yet, and I'm not entirely sure if there was one at all, as such, at any point). I closed my eyes. Moved the volume up. And felt.

As the music continued my 'feeling' [again, lacking words to express it, and thus further convincing me of my opinion that music is expressing something (he commits himself) irrational] did too.

And here I'm grasping at straws, because my experience starts by rubbing up against a thing I call inexpressible, then dives headfirst into it. I started small, extending feelers to explore the mindscape I was edging into. I was in a cavernous place. There were no objects, just threads of thoughts. Move further. The thoughts well up, more clearly now. I remember. I make connections. How I've felt, and what has happened, those are intertwined. I know that already, intellectually, but here they become more clear. My fears, the things I've been trying to keep away from my mind's eye, they are here. They are here, and they have found me and I must look at them. I am faced with my own raw emotions that I have hidden from myself so successfully. There isn't anything to hide behind, and the music draws me in further yet. My breathing becomes deeper, slower, my skin is alive, and my hairs are raised from my skin everywhere. My eyes water. It's a trance of sorts. I feel incredibly focused. The music is me. I am listening to myself in notes, chords, harmonies, keys. It is cacophonous and perfectly ordered. Rise and fall, my chest, rise and fall, the melody. I could cry, if I wanted to, there is enough there to justify tears: rage, frustration, grief, they fester within and gnaw at the pillars below, snaking their way in and entrenching. Tears aren't what's needed here. Just feeling, just the experience, is far more cathartic. The wave has crested, and quickly breaks.