I have danced until my chest heaved and my thighs shook while drummers tranced out in a circle around me. I have sat listening to the harmony of fiddle, banjo and guitar like I was a battery, charged by the energy they emitted. I have laid on the floor near my husband as he practices a new song…enjoying every perfect and imperfect note. I have sat pencil to paper, a nameless desire waiting to manifest until the music starts. All these things have filled me with a light that shines through the pinpoints of my soul, like the canvas of a night sky whose stars are pathways to other worlds.
Music is the heavy rain that gets the creek flowing smoothly again, it is the spark that starts the fire. I have relied on musicians to help me find a way out of the maze, to push through a block in energy, to release emotion that I have no words for, to spark a holy connection between heart and hand. Music fuels my Art. For this I am grateful. Grateful for all the times they said with their music what I could not with words and grateful for the times when they got my pencil and paintbrush moving once more in the right direction.
Do the drummers feed off the energy of the dancers in the circle? Can the musicians feel the starlit glow around me as I sit quietly and soak in their harmonies? I have heard other artist friends speak of a similar reliance on music but where do the musicians turn when they are caught in a creative maze? Maybe we all simply drink from same the communal chalice of inspiration…finding our Muse wherever she decides to turn up next.
|Sweetwater Creek in flood|