Music is the Love Language of My Soul

"...Then he'd take out his fiddle and play untill dawn, and evry time he did, he learned something new.
He first spent his attention on matters of tuning and fingering and phrasing. Then he began listening to the words of the songs the blacks would sing, admiring how they chanted out every desire and fear in their lives as clear and proud as could be, and he soon had a growing feeling that he was learning things about himself that had never sifted into his thinking before. One thing he dicovered with a great deal of astonishment was that music held more for him than just pleasure. There was meat to it. The grouping of sounds, their forms in the air as they rang out and faded, said something comforting to him about the rule of creation. What the music said was that there is a right way for things to be ordered so that life might not always be just a tangle and drift but have a shape, an aim. It was a powerful argument against the notion that things just happen...
When he set the bow to the new fiddle, the tone was startling in it's clarity, sharp and pure, and the redundancy in the tuning led to curious and dissonant harmonic effects. The tune was slow and modal, but demanding in it's rhythm and of considerable range. More than that, its melody constantly pressed upon you the somber notion that it was a passing thing, here and gone, unfixable. Yearning was it's main theme. It was music the like of which she had never heard. His playing was easy as a man drawing breath, yet with utter conviction in it's centrality to a life worth claiming."





Charles Frazier "Cold Mountain"