Music ^{[ myoo-zik ]}

noun

An art of sound in time that expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms through the elements of rhythm, melody, harmony and color.
The tones or sounds employed, occurring in single line (melody) or multiple lines (harmony), and sounded or to be sounded by one or more voices or instruments, or both. Musical work or compositions for singing or playing.
The written or printed score of a musical composition.
Such scores collectively.
Any sweet, pleasing or harmonious sounds or sound.

They sat me in a room with a man I never met before. He had walls that were covered with framed diplomas and certifications. He had books on shelves. I knew why I was there.
Better yet, I knew why I had to be there but at the same time, I had no idea why I was in this office. I had no idea what I was going to talk about or what this man was about to say.
Besides, I was a kid. The word psychiatry is an adult word. And depression, sure. I knew what the word meant. I just didn’t want the word to mean that this was me. Besides, all of these grownup words were like a different language to me. Those words belonged to grownups and not kids like me, but yet, I was in there in that office. I was waiting to be seen by a man that looked more like a grandfather than a doctor. I remember.
He had classical music playing in the background, like Mozart or maybe it was Beethoven. Either way, this wasn’t my scene.

I am more than where I come from. I am certainly more than my past and more than my future. I am like you or anyone else in this world. I am a series of different chapters which open and close no differently than the daily sun that rises each morning. I am more than this too and yet, I am simply just me. I understand this. I tried to attack the ideas and identify the mysteries about myself by writing out my thoughts. I did this to feel better, which at first, I worried too much about the world around me and the interpretation of myself. I worried about my education or the lack thereof. A writer? Me? Could I ever be? Or more to the point, could I ever be anything more than what I was?

There is nothing like the relationship with a dog. There is never a question whether I’m enough or not. I never smell too bad. I always look perfect. I swear, my dog knows when something is wrong. He can tell when I’m sad or hurting or if something is not right with the world. And he sides up to me. He sits next to me as if to say, “I’m glad you’re here.”
I have heard people doubt the connection between a person and their dogs. I have heard people say, “It’s not like they’re human,” and no, my dog is not human. Besides, humans aren’t as loyal. 

I have a dog. He is an old dog and the last of the original three. He is my special boy and we named him Brody. And Brody is 14 to be exact. His hips are bad and so are his knees. 

There is always someone coming around to claim some new cure. And we listen too. We hope. We think and we wonder. We talk to one another about things like, “Say? What would it be like if we could just push a button and have all of this craziness just go away?”
Imagine?
Just the push of a button and everything that hurt would be healed. No pain. No procedure. No process or recovery. Just relief. Could you imagine?

There was a dull orange glow on a rocky ledge in the darkness of the surrounding woods. My elevation was high enough that I could look down at the world. I was high enough to see things from a different point of view. The sky was covered in stars that night. The moon was full and all else was quiet. I swear, it is amazing what we hear when there is no noise. It is amazing what we hear when there is nothing in the background, except for the voice of our thoughts. 

The world is such a big place. And we are small. Really small. We are less than a glimpse. Our connection with time is lengthy, yet, our time in the grand scheme of time is quicker than a flashing light. There are so many things that happen at once. There are too many ideas that come at one time and more often than not, there’s a lot more riding on each and every moment.

It’s been a while. Life has changed as we know it, which means our in-person dialogues are all done from a remote location.

I had a chance to see them last night. I saw their eyes and the looks on their faces. They are the students. They are the future hopefuls. They are the up and coming generation of new professionals, just waiting to knock on the door of a new horizon. I see them and I want to show them one simple truth.  I want them to understand.

In fairness, I am more a fan of in-person lectures. I am more interested in seeing people on a face-to-face basis than doing so from a remote location. However, due to circumstances beyond our control, life has changed the way we interact. Therefore, this has changed the way I interact with a classroom. I need to see them think and feel. I want to watch their faces change with emotion. I want them to know one thing, which is that it’s absolutely perfect to be real, to be true, to be yourself. I want them all to know that regardless of whatever quirks or insecurities that come to mind, we are all equipped and capable.

I have always been a fan of stories about people who come from behind. I am a fan of the underdog. In fact, I am a fan of anyone that is unbeatable because no matter how many beatings they take, they just keep going.  I am a fan of the dreams that come true. In fact, I openly admit to being a fan of high school movies about kids that overcome the odds and the conflicts of popularity. I love this. I admit to enjoying the corny endings where the entire school applauds and gives someone their due.

There is this thing we have, which we all have. It’s called a past. And don’t worry. This happens to everyone. To keep this easy, the past is nothing more than a combination of our yesterdays. That’s all it is. The past itself is emotionless. On the other hand, we are not. In some cases, some of our yesterdays are regrettable. And sometimes, some of our yesterdays are painful and unforgettable. There are people, places and things that come up in our daily lives. There are triggers that link us back to old memories. This pulls us back to old emotions, which lead to the pathways of shame, blame and pain. Or more to the point, these are the links that take us down the rabbit hole of judgement and rejection.