If asked to name my first true love, and if pressed to be completely and brazenly honest, I would have to name that dangerously alluring siren - music. Music and I go way back. In fact, I cannot recall the moment of our first encounter. It was simply always there. But my initial expressions of interest surfaced at age three or four, when I would compose delightful songs about animals while sitting at my grandmother's piano. I then made my compositional debut as a kindergartner performing in the elementary school talent show. Since then, music and I have had a complicated history, though never lacking in passion.
Sure, there were times when I felt I didn't understand it at all. There were certainly tears of frustration when it didn't respond the way I wanted it to. I remember welcoming the arrival of new music teachers who would help me achieve delicate nuance and technical proficiency, and mourning those relationships during times of transition. I still wince at accusations of being "instrumentally promiscuous" (I simply could not choose between flute and piano, to say nothing of my on-again-off-again flirtation with the organ). But it mattered less who was doing the coaxing or through what medium the music was channeled... so long as I could have the experience of being one with the Sound.
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