When the Music Came Back — Attuning through AT; Origins of Music

Within the flow of music,

at what moment,

in what way,

along what path

do I move toward the next note?

The moment I focused on that,

the music came back.

What kind of sound that note is,

what the composer entrusted to it,

and how I feel it,

how I want to play it.

All of it happens at the same time.

That feeling I have at the beginning of a new piece,

when music keeps pouring in,

that steady stream of input.

For some reason, it had stopped.

The more I practiced,

the more I knew what the next note was,

the more clearly I understood it.

Somehow,

the connection was lost.

Like a phone call.

All I could hear was

static,

or silence.

I think I finally understand why.

My receiver

had grown cloudy.

Somehow, that felt revealing.

To perform

is to receive and transmit

at the same time.

To receive,

to feel,

to release.

It comes out even without force.

“Release.”

That word feels closer

to my own sensation.

For a long time, I thought

a performer was someone who carries

the composer’s feelings.

A kind of messenger.

But

“the composer’s feelings.”

That never quite settled in me.

Because everyone is different.

Because everything is always changing.

And if I am delivering someone else’s feelings,

then what about my own?

That felt strange.

And now,

it finally makes sense.

To receive,

and at the same time transmit.

Maybe it simply passes through me.

Like a radio.

Radio waves are waves.

When the heart trembles,

that too

is a wave.

It’s interesting, isn’t it?

Because when that truly happens,

it cannot be translated

into words.