I found my new toy on the first day high school: the clarinet. How hard could it be to play? Not that easy. There are several separated pieces in my clarinet case, with a small yellow bamboo which they call a reed. Which piece goes at the top? Which one at the bottom? My first day friend Anna taught and helped me put them together. The rest of the students were all warming up their flutes, trumpets, and saxophones, and I got ready to blow on the clarinet.
Wetting the reed lightly, I placed my lips over the mouthpiece. “Don’t be surprised if the clarinet doesn’t make a sound,” Anna warned. I brushed off her comment - of course it was going to make a sound. As I took a breath, the insecurities started rolling in. Was I biting too hard? What if the note squeaks? I made sure that I was putting enough pressure on the mouthpiece. I sat up straight. I took a deep breath and I went ahead and blew. Nothing. No sound came out except for a measly ball of spit. I tried again, and again, and again, but still, not even a peep.
I tried many different angles to blow the clarinet. I bit down harder, bit down softer, used more breath, used less breath. Nothing seemed to be working until there! Suddenly, the clarinet let out a short wail. Did I imagine that? I blew on the mouthpiece and there it was again! I had made a sound! The reed vibrated pleasantly as the hollow ghostly whisper grew louder and more confident. Notes were streaming out of its bell and I could see them spinning and dancing. The woodwind instrument rang out its melody until I was no longer making a sound. I was making music.
Music is something that is deeply integrated into our lives but often overlooked. A boy sits on the curb, waiting for his bus, his head bobbing slightly to his headphones. His gaze is far away. A faint smile crosses his face. Words unspoken, but he understands perfectly. A car skids in the distance. A door is slammed shut. A baby starts to cry, but the boy hears only the music.
A girl stares out her window into the rainy clouds. Her day was long, she is tired. She hums along to her favourite anthem. The music envelopes her in its soft caress. The melody drifts on into the night.
Without music in our lives, emotions would turn into bottled thoughts. As Victor Hugo once said, “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”
