I Lose Myself In The Music

By

If you want to know the real way to my heart, it’s through music. It’s through sounds that fill ears, fill spaces, fill hearts. It’s with melodies that surround my body, that melt through my brain and travel through my cells, up and down my spine, to the tips of my fingers, and through each strand of my hair.

When I listen to music, I can feel the beat as my pulse. I can taste the words on my lips. I can feel the rhythm moving my body, unexplainably, unconsciously.

I throw my head back and I feel the air around me, the bodies next to me, the laughter. I feel the energy covering me, coating me, making me warm, yet making me shiver simultaneously.

There’s something about thousands of bodies listening to the same song, their hearts and minds and souls spinning in sync.

Sometimes I lose my breath, just in the sheer excitement of it all. There’s always the first few notes, pulling me in. There’s the way I smile, absentmindedly, as I recognize a favorite song. There’s the way I start to hum, start to sing, start to move my body to the same rhythm as the people next to me, laughing and smiling and sharing the simple bliss of the moment.

Of dancing. Of feeling free. Of letting go.

Music is a celebration of life. It’s the unexplainable connection of sound, melody, rhythm, and beat that bind us together through race, through sex, through age, through status, through gender, through challenges and death and pain and fear.

Music is what helps us love.
Music is love.

And I lose myself in it.

I hear a song and I’m instantly connected. Connected to the song. Connected to the world. Connected to the humans around me, sharing this space. With each note, thousands of memories flood my mind. I’m reminded of a particular place or person, of a sliver of time where I felt excited, or strange, or lonely, or alive.

Music defines me. It makes me feel whole. It has been what has built me up in most tired moments, given me strength when I could not stand, and taught me to pause and enjoy what is around me.

At a concert, I can feel the music reaching to the most tender parts of my heart, opening them again. In the middle of a crowd, I feel myself let go, my anger and fear and doubt dissipating into the sky.

I feel tied to the people listening next to me, almost as if we have the same heartbeat, the same ribbons of thought running through our minds.

I throw my head back. I reach my arms high into the air. I let the words, the sounds, the happiness flow from my lips.

And I don’t think about anything else but losing myself in the sound, in the moment, in the way I feel—free and alive.

I lose myself in the music.
And I don’t want to be found.