I sat, quietly chatting with my husband, waiting for the Arcade Fire concert to begin. Lucky to be there courtesy of a last-minute half price ticket sale. My husband and I used to go to concerts a lot before our third child was conceived and my husband embarked on his second round of schooling. I missed the energy of the live shows. I waited impatiently for the main act to start, passing the time checking in with Facebook, discovering who else was at the show.
The opening acts were not really my thing but many enjoyed them. To be honest even the main act, Arcade Fire, I was mostly familiar with their radio releases. I’ve never been a downloader of music, even when it was easier to do, and though I’ve requested their albums, I had never received them. This concert would introduce me to a lot more of their work.
I would not be disappointed.
The show started, the music building in intensity, inviting people in their seats and on the floor to get up and to get ready to move, to be a part of the music. Everyone contributed to the energy of the evening.
The songs had no titles for me. I experienced the music in a raw explosion of emotion. Words, stories, memories, musical notes beating, strumming, ringing and drumming through my soul.
I had to move! I had to dance!
I don’t experience music as just notes and sounds to be appreciated. I experience music as raw energy flowing through me, echoing off my tight, tense stressed-out muscles, resonating through every fiber until the muscles vibrated with a need to move, to stomp my feet, clap my hands, and just move and sway and move…
I felt the muscles in my back resisting and holding tight as I twisted and gyrated but I refused to give in to the pain, to the pent-up anxieties, the rage that pulled my muscles tight. I fought against all the crazy emotions and stresses of everyday living that were stored in the clenched muscles across my shoulders and down my spine.
And I moved!
And it felt amazing!
The experience continued for two hours, two incredible hours. It filled me with inspiration. Ideas to write. I ached to write before time buffed the edges of the memories into soft, fuzzy dreams, reducing the vivid pictures in my head to old worn out black and white photographs.
I want to remember…
To remember how the music made me feel, how I moved and danced like no one was watching (judging?), how the beat tapped into my soul and released emotions fueling my desire (need?) to write, to express myself, to be heard, to be seen in my rawest, aching form.
The music ebbs away and the memories grow rapidly fuzzier, my soul retains the vibrational inspiration to write, to move, to be seen, to scream out,
“Here I am, hear my words!”
and with some luck, someone will hear them and feel the resonating echo of the music and also be inspired….