The wind chimes are playing their random melody so loudly I hear it clearly through the window, so it must be cold and windy this morning. I haven’t paid attention to them in a while, and it shows in the flaccid coolness in my heart. When I listen, when I actually hear them, the chimes soothe the savage, as does almost any tuneful vessel.
Sometimes I will sit feeling empty, sure that I’m missing something, and I’ll put on some music and realize, “Yes. That was it. This is what I need.”
Music says what needs to be said when there are no words. It celebrates a grand universe where melody describes order — or, in the case of the wind chimes, it describes tones of peace so deep that order is not necessary. Wind can be a harsh, vicious force or a gentle breeze, but the chimes bring beauty with every beat, every collision.
Words are blunt instruments. Set to music, the edge softens and the hope snuggles in.
