At the concert, in the crowd, I wish I was more masterful in the art of dance. The music moves me, but my bodily motions don’t match the beauty that the music makes me feel inside.
Like blades of grass in a dark field, the crowd bends and wavers in the wind of the music. Rays of light shoot forth from the stage through the smoke. The singer jumps and turns in circles and shouts. The guitarist walks casually by and strums.
Tinted glasses are a reminder that I can change my perception as easily as taking the frame between my fingers and shifting it up and down so the lenses alternate between being in my line of sight and below it. The color of everything changes between having a blue tint and looking normal. How easily can I change my perception in other ways?
As a writer, I am jealous of singers and musicians. Their art form is so tangible and accessible. Reading writing requires opening a book or otherwise getting the words in front of your eyes and then reading them silently to yourself in your own head. Just as the act of writing is solitary, so too is the act of reading. Music, on the other hand, can be played out loud. It reaches your ears in the physical world.