I don’t know you. I don’t know you at all.

I keep meaning to write about every life experience that has had a profound impact on me but I’m just not sure if I’m ready to share everything.  I’m not really sure that I want to relive some experiences through these pages.  I want to convince myself that I’ve learned that lesson… that I’ve grown in that way… that I’ve taken a step forward, without having to recount it all.  Cuz growth is usually painful.  On the other hand, sometimes I can’t help but find my fingers typing away into a fresh white page of WordPress wondering if anything I write will make a difference to me.  To anyone, anywhere.

I am listening to music right now.  Some good music.  Sometimes, when I hear a good song and identify deeply with a lyric, the tone of the voice, the spirit of the music… something inside rises up and makes me want to connect with the person behind that song.  I totally understand what he’s saying.  I totally relate to what she’s singing about.

Art does that.  It transcends the soul to a place beyond what can be heard or seen.  To that deep place from where that lyric or that melody or that poem or that painting or that photograph or that narrative came, where our souls unite.  And if not unite, at least reside side by side.  Or so I thought.

I’ve been wondering lately if that belief is another fabrication of my idealism.  I’m not sure anymore that just because I identified so deeply with a lyric in a song that it necessarily means I’m in tune with the lyricist.  That line could’ve been written from a million different places and it can mean whatever it means to me personally, and it may hold an entirely different meaning to someone else. 

That’s what I’m finding out.  The hard way.  I assume that she understands me because she painted a piece that I feel represents my personhood.  I assume that he knows me because he wrote something that read like a page in my journal.  Then I try to get to know that person and I get frustrated because they don’t seem to be “getting” me.  What?  You don’t understand where I’m coming from?  Why do I have to explain that to you?  You’re the one who wrote the song.

What a disappointing realization.  What a painful realization. 

In the same way, I suppose when I hear a voice that deeply resonates in my being, it doesn’t mean that the vocalist and I are meant to be more than anything besides singer and listener.  And if my voice ever resonates with someone else, the same would go for the two of us.

Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything more.  Maybe the momentary or lasting resonance is enough and good as is.  And relationship means much more than common resonance with a song, poem, painting, photograph, story, voice, etc. etc. etc.

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