Sorry I haven’t posted in awhile (that is, assuming people actually read these, haha). Just been busy/low on inspiration.
Anyways, I, being a musician, have come to terms with something I like to call ‘suffocation’ (and I didn’t just come up with that on the spot. Definitely not.). Now this isn’t literal suffocation, I just call it that because it seems to fit with the feeling. With the situation I have been experiencing lately.
This ‘suffocation‘ happens when I sit at my keyboard, looking at the keys and thinking, “How on earth could I ever make a song that would be any different or any better than the million already written?” “How could I make anything original? Am I just copying everyone that has come before me? Do I have any talent or am I a parrot?” This feeling, though, is not one that only I get, nor one that only musicians get. It’s a feeling that writers get when they see their blank page and think, “Are there really any good plots left? Is there really a character that’s never been written, or an idea that hasn’t grown into a book?”
This feeling often haunts me when I’m playing my piano, as I’m sure it does many, many other musicians. It’s a feeling that says, “Is there anything left? Can you really play something beautiful? Or even halfway decent?” And let me tell you, it’s hard to shake off. Like smoke that clings to your clothes.
Now, usually when this idea comes, another thought consumes me at the same time. The thought of a thirteenth note. Crazy, maybe, but sometimes I wonder if it’s out there. Somewhere… A sound nobody has heard.
A book idea no one has written.
An equation for a graviton.
A color no one has ever seen.
Or maybe we don’t need these things. Maybe all we need is the twelve keys given to us. Maybe all we need is the creative mind given to us. Maybe all we need is God’s will for us.
Maybe, all we need is a little light to see the sheet music.