More than a song

Julia Rasor

Music as a whole has always spoken to me beyond just a pretty melody. Ever since I was young, I’ve found that music is a way to communicate, to express what cannot be said and to create a world in my own colors. Because of events in my past like my parents’ divorce or broken friendships, I’ve come to find myself lost in the meaning of life. What does it really mean to be living in this world? What part do I take? Is my existence even of value? Do the choices I make really have an impact?

It’s hard to describe, but when I make a choice, I am at war with myself. So often in the past, I have struggled to fully make a decision — picking between what I want to do, what I should do, what others think I should do. Be it when I feel like a rope in the tug-of-war between my parents, when I am the third party involved in a fight between two close friends or when I have to let someone I love be together with someone I am close to.

Being so strongly against myself, battling to choose, drowns me in the ocean that my mind becomes. The world becomes so small, and I feel insignificant. How could I possibly make what is broken right again?

It is during times like these, where I almost forget myself, that I find music to be the most powerful. In particular, a song by Delta Spirit called “Yamaha,” shatters the wall I build to protect myself from my burdens and puts those burdens on stand-still. Each note carries such a deep impact that, all of a sudden, the world is plunged into a numb background. It makes me feel like a picture, frozen in the moment as the world keeps moving. Only then am I free to think.

In one of the lines, the song describes “there’s certain things in life you cannot change.” This simple line is so easily relatable to the experiences I’ve had in my life. Each and every time I hear the song, I am taken back to a moment in my past — or even a moment in the present — where a decision I made led to a certain consequence. The dense weight of the song brings out all the emotions I felt in that memory, and my mind is suddenly cleared.

I can’t change the people in my life; I can’t take back the things I have said or done. I can’t change what I’ve hurt or broken. I can’t change the past. It’s a hard thing to swallow, but only if I let it be that way.

Music is mysterious in this way. It lets me realize what I can’t do alone. Like the songs, the melody and even the words are directly speaking to me. When I was young, a song was just a song. But now, having lived life and understanding so much more than I did before, every different song is the key to appreciating everything that has made me who I am.

Ultimately, when I listen to this song, all I can think of is how I shouldn’t waste my time holding on to the past. Life keeps on moving, and I can’t be held back by the things that weigh me down. Nothing can express what music has meant to me my entire life. It is a part of me. For every song and every moment, it’s a picture worth a thousand words.