Beauty to Me

There is much beauty in this world. One only needs to slow down long enough from our harried and restless lives in order to see it.

Admittedly, I first thought this would be a difficult assignment for me today, as I’ve been under the weather and thought that I had not gazed at too terribly much more than the backs of my eyelids today. But, truly, it goes back to the old saying that “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder” and this does not even begin to touch on the fact that beauty is not always in the appearance of some thing. Rather, beauty can be experienced by every one of our senses, in addition to sight.

Music is beauty in its aural form.

Often times, I listen to music when I write. Just as I’m doing now. What I listen to at any given time is dependent upon what I’m writing. At the moment, I’m listening to instrumentals, primarily those that showcase the piano. In my own experience, the absence of words allows for better concentration and allows me to better zero in on my own thoughts and stirrings of heart, rather than those of others.

Music has its own profound beauty. It is a language all its own, one that speaks to our hearts; our soul. It moves us. Sometimes transporting us to times and worlds beyond our own.

There are many instruments in this wide and varied world of ours. Many a country, it seems, has produced an instrument that is unique to its culture. Each instrument, speaking a dialect of its own that we know as “music”.Each country, it seems, has produced those that are through which one can produce music. Each “speaks” its own dialect of the language we call “music”.

Among my favorite “instruments” is that of the voice. Done “right”, according to my opinion and perspective, it can truly be a beautiful expression of one’s soul. The rises and falls. The soft utterances. The musical phrases that will grab a hold of your heart and twist it ever so slightly.

Musical expression, though, is not limited to what we formally distinguish as “music”. It can also be found in the giggles of a child, the tinkling of wind chimes on a mild summer’s day. Oh, but it does not stop there either. Most certainly not. For music is not restricted to the human realm or to those things we attribute to ourselves. There is no sound that I find to be calming to my soul than the song of water. Whether it be in the form of rain lightly dancing upon a tin roof or the ocean, in all its magnificence, crashing upon and cascading upon the shore, it washes over me, filling me with a sense of contentment that I often can find no where else than in the strains of beautiful, soul-filled music. And it does not stop there… I could go on and on, but will not. Suffice to say that, in my eyes, beauty is that which touches us on a deeper level; that which touches our heart, our soul. That is true beauty.


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