Still Singing

 It’s been awhile since I wrote the post below.  It gets a lot of hits, so it must strike a chord.  Although, honestly, it might be the very cool metal piece photo I have attached to it.  I have learned as a writer that my words are polished when I can find just the right photo to add.

Since I used this week’s personally picked public writing time to draft a spot for 5iveforwomen.com, I thought I would re-post a favorite so you don’t think I’ve forgotten you.

Thanks for sharing this journey with me.  Life is much better lived when co-conspirators keep pace beside you.

================================================================

 Music Sings the Colors of Life 

Originally posted September 10, 2010

Music plays a big part in my world.

I was listening to music practice one afternoon and feeling the keyboard notes run along my arms and it occurred to me that music, like writing, is intrinsic to my identity.

I could describe people to you by the kinds of music they like. John is a little edgy, a little country. Melissa is sometimes romantic, but with a strong streak. Tina is rock ‘n roll laced with a healthy respect for blues. Bob? Full of mystery and depth behind blue eyes. Thi might come across as traditional, but once he opens the door you find a wide assortment of sound and intellect.

I’m an eclectic mix that begins with a colorful clash of poetry and sound and ends with fun mixes.

I’ll let you guess which bands apply.

I like Christian music, mostly, but I get bored with the repetitious redundancy of much of it. I find it interesting that people criticize my wide taste in music. Really? You think my musical taste is questionable, don’t even ask me about what I read.

I also find it interesting that they don’t want to take up the discussion about why I like what I like and how I think God sees it. They only want to tell me how they think God sees it. Hmm. In the words of my oh-so-wise Grandma, “who died and made you boss?” I wonder if they would object to a classical composer if they knew of his personal choices and misadventures. I don’t meant to be critical, but it sure sticks in my craw sometimes.

Back to music.

Music speaks to me. Not only the lyrics, the very sound of certain melodies will stick with me for days. I can hear their strains calling me to move for days, sometimes years. There seems to be a song for every event. I am forever singing something random because music is forever filling my mind.

I find myself drawn to music, like all art forms, which has a deeper meaning, something that goes well beyond the surface. I have to like the surface, too, though. A wild cacophony of sound has no purpose. Distorted, unintelligible lyrics are foolishness to me. Shallow, common rhythms bore me. Loud, I like. Soft, I enjoy.

I’m not a musician, but I sure do dig music.

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman