Power of Music

My heartbeat raced. I was late. I gazed across the large opera house and found my group sitting without me.

The aged smell coupled with twinkling chandeliers asserted identity. Taking a deep breath, I felt comfort ease into the crimson chairs and felt comfort ease in. The music inserted bits of energy into my body’s malaise. The National Symphony Orchestra was playing before my eyes, and I was soaking in the privilege of being part of their rehearsal.

As the rehearsal continued, I drifted off to a light sleep. My eyes were shuddering, my breath deepened, fighting against the urge to relax into a snooze. Rapidly, I felt my mascara puncture my bushy eyebrows to find a center-stage violinist. It was like the soloist was speaking to me. Goosebumps ran up my spine, and I experienced her precise interpretation of the solo. She played Alban Berg’s “Violin Concerto.” I had no prior association with this piece of music, only the one odd instance where it spoke to me. I immediately connected to her through the music. My drowsiness disappeared, and I couldn’t imagine falling asleep again.

This experience demonstrated the point of music: connecting the players, the music, and the audience. It was at this moment that I reflected on past experiences I have had with music, realizing, to my surprise, that no interaction had ever been this powerful. From that moment forward, I strived to put this much emotion into my playing, so that other audience members could feel my musical ideas in impressionable ways. That soloist mastered precision in musical interpretation. I still reflect in awe of that moment.