Reality is What You Make of It

When I was 4, I dreamt of being an landscape architect like mom. When I grew older, I took up piano and dreamt of being a musician. A few years later when I was in high school and I got a dog, I dreamt of being veterinarian.

But instead of all pursuing one of dreams, I chose to follow my greed and pride. I went to a university that I knew would give me what I wanted but not what I needed. After trying it out for a few years, I realized that it wasn’t for me. So I left everything; my greed, pride, and even a couple of friends.

It was agonizing not knowing what to do.

A year or so – my mind didn’t quite synchronize with the passage of time – I decided to follow one of my dreams. I tried my hand at being a musician. I must say, it is painful and stressing. However, the music I worked so hard to produce makes every mental and physical and anguish worthwhile.

The best thing about it is that when I concentrate on playing and not think about who’s listening, the world disappears. After that, music morphes reality. It turns my thoughts and emotions into sounds that touches other particles till they hit an immovable object.

Music became me or should I say I became music. Reality blurs after playing a few lines. All I knew is that the elements of music was ingrained in everything that I was doing.

Form became my creed. Melody conveyed my thoughts. Harmony spoke my words. Rhythm ran through my veins. Dynamics displayed my intent. Timbre reflected the twinkle in my eyes. Texture was how I touched people’s lives.

I know it sounds poetic but that is what happens to me. I can’t speak for others.