Walking in the woods of another world…
What with all the harshness of life, one has to wonder why such things as music, television, movies and even holiday resorts exist, and the answer would be simple. From the moment a Soul is born into this world, there is a resounding battle that all must contend with. Some may argue, and I have heard this before, that the struggles of birth is but a predecessor to the following events of one’s lifetime – the ups and downs, the pain and relief that is experienced throughout life right down to the very hour, minute and second of every day.
So that answer – they are simply the fire exits that are, at one point or another, very much needed. No one person can walk through life without having a medium that offers the escape and entertainment needed from the complexities and difficulties of daily doings, be they the reading of a book, playing an instrument, to water skiing or sky-diving. It could even be argued that drugs are an escape for certain people, the results of such use bringing about a euphoric experience very unlike that which the sobre eye sees. In the case of drugs, there has to be a reason in the first place why a Soul would turn to such a thing, often deemed, ‘illicit’. The answer to that? Perhaps the missing capability to deal with the negativity and struggle of life…
From a personal point of view, escapism is required daily, taking the form of one of several mediums that I enjoy immersing myself in. As mentioned in previous blogs, writing is a large part of my life and is something that gives me that relief and highest level of enjoyment. Not only does it allow me to escape inwards to my own imagination, thoughts, ideas and in some cases, fluff, it is also a tool for me to release these ethereal, if not tangible, creations into a form or another – a preferable vent to leaving them to float and tumble between the six walls of my skull.
Admittedly, although thinking – to me – is something less enjoyed than one might think, any particularly interesting thought or idea formed from the simplest of things can often cling to that of another and soon, the brain becomes cluttered. In that sense, I have often found myself screaming in a room full of voices and noises yet to any other there is nothing but the sound of silence and I sit in a chair unmoving.
There in body, but not in mind.
Like many things the inspiration to put words to a page, or in some cases the screen, comes fragmented and often at times which are incredibly ridiculous. Thus, as such, you resort to laying the foundations of a thought-train which, while at the same time you are carrying out a task, spirals around your mind – the harbinger hoping ever-more that the train reaches a touchable destination – albeit the physical or electric page.
As aforementioned, I began writing as an escape from the direness of school life, quite content to sit and conjure up some imaginary land with imaginary creatures and imaginary scenarios and plotlines. But as I grew older, I discovered that writing provided a method of expressing my deepest and darkest thoughts, allowing me to fumble my way down the rabbit hole to see what fancy lurks and wisps inhabit my seemingly silent mind. And true it is that writing does not just come in the form of imaginary/fictional plotlining, but also in the form of this [hopefully] interesting and intriguing, if not well structured blog. Again, as stated, it is simply a vessel for my thoughts and opinions that I perhaps feel I cannot or will not voice with words. It astounds me now, that although I could not speak until the age of three years, while being a hyperactive tyrant until the age of five, I am quite capable and willing enough to eloquently speak my mind.
On a number of occasions, I have wondered if someone stands over me in some form or another, guiding my hand and easing the flow of words from mind to fingertip. Of course, one does not complain if help is given – student academics demand the occasional essay or report of ridiculous word count. Should someone wish to stand over me and offer aid, by all means it is welcomed. I say this because never have I had such a flow of words move through my mind to paper and for it to sit so comfortably within the seemingly pre-conceived dance of words. And the fascinating part of it is that most of the ideas that are contructed work well without little tweaking, if any at all.
Writing has and always will remain one attractive medium for me to which I can use to shape and define myself, while at the same time twisting and turning the thoughts and ideas in my mind into the foundations of what I like to call word-art. Lay the foundations, build the construct then watch layer by creative layer appear before your eyes.
I wrote previously that thinking is not something I overly enjoy, and as such, I find that music provides the perfect obstruction to doing so. I have not been a keen listener of music for long; only in 2007 in fact, did I begin to delve into the music world in search of unique and original artists. Thus, I have come across a large varierty of artists of likened and unlikened genres, styles, voices, techniques, depth, approaches excetera and from that array? A pallet of a select few has been established providing brilliance and definate listening pleasure. Such artists include Imogen Heap [as is well known for me], Kate Havnevik, Zoe Keating, Milosh, Jon Hopkins, William Fitzsimmons and Martyn Bennett, simply to name the ones I adore. Like any other of course, mainstream music is also something I like to keenly dabble my fingers into and as such, the resultant taste in music is very quite diverse.
It is definately something that must be experienced by an individual – to discover a new musical artist whose work provides a very unexplainable feeling of happiness and freshness that can sometimes be overshadowed by the familiarity of an musician very much loved, but certainly over-listened.
To lie in a silent room with my iPod on and earphones in is something I love to do when all else fails to quench my boredom. Allowing yourself to fall into those, often, overheard layers of production and musical genius can provide a euphoric feeling. Depending on the nature of production, such as with Imogen Heap, Milosh and Zoe Keating, there may be several layers each with a different melody, sound, oddity or lyric that you did not hear the first or perhaps even after the twentieth listen. It is these types of songs that I long to find and those that provide such a unique listening experience sometimes unfound in commercial music.
Dare I say it, music is perhaps my ‘drug’ – it is needed on a daily basis by myself and there is very rarely a time when music is not playing around me. Nor do I deny the chance to listen to a song or too. Silence, for me is an undersirable cacophony, gladly banished by the undulations of music. The emotions and relaxation that music brings me allows me to detach myself from the harshness of life that would otherwise downtrod my mind and Soul and for that, I am thankful. It truly is my escape.
As a lover of Angels, music is the closest I can get to such winged freedom. Until my time may come where I sit alongside a pure Soul in heavenly music creation, my iPod will remain my best friend. Music is truly one such creation unmatched and will remain so for a unreckoned time, if ever at all.
