Lonnie Ezell

Emptiness.

Silence.

Thin tendrils of music floating along the breeze, hoping to be found, to be plucked from the ethers and formed through the strings, pipes or percussion instruments.

How to grab it? I try, but can’t find it. Too empty. Too much sorrow. Where can I find the joy that tames the music and makes it shine? Where do I find the music?

Performance isn’t necessary to make music. In many respects I wonder if the Irish culture has it correct. Friends and strangers gather at a local pub. They pull up chairs and take turns. One person leads the music. The others join in. Following. Creating. Then another leads another tune. Anyone who knows it joins in. Music follows. Joy follows.

For one reason: the music.

We’ve all heard the old adage: If a tree falls in the forest but no one witnesses it, does it make a noise? When it comes to music, I believe the answer is a resounding, “Yes!” Even when there is no audience, there is always the other musicians to hear. To join in. To sing. Stomp feet in time. To get caught in the melody. To mess up a phrase and laugh it off. The music is there. The joy is there.

Creation is there.

For me, at least, I’m realizing that is what it’s about. It’s creating music with friends. It’s enhancing someone else’s song. Bringing it to life. During a performance, it’s bringing smiles to the audience. Or tears. It’s seeing them get swept up in the music: tapping their feet; bobbing their head in time. Even when they’re not watching, I like to think that what I’m playing is somehow making their conversations–and their memories of that night–better somehow.

I guess that’s what it boils down to. Creation of moments. Creation of *emotions*.

That’s what I need out of music. That’s when it truly shines to me. When the thrill is there. When we are creating.

I need to create. I’ve known that for years, but never been truly able to see what it was that made that seemingly selfish desire so valuable. But I’m starting to see it now.

It keeps me happy. It keeps my spirit lifted up. It hopefully makes a small bright moment in the day for whoever I come into contact with. It does that one small thing to help make the world be just a tiny bit better. When I’m in a joyous spot, those around me are lifted up. When I’m not, am I dragging down those around me? Making their lives worse? If there must be light to have shadow, good to have evil, it follows that staying joyous makes the world better and staying morose and empty can only make the world worse.

It’s the small things, isn’t it, that spread. It’s the small things that fester.

It’s time to listen to music all day again. To make playlists that keep me uplifted. That inspire me. It’s time to do my part, once again, to make the world shine. One act of creation can overthrow countless acts of destruction.

It’s time to become Creators.