After silence, that what comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible, is music. (A. Huxley, Music at Night an Other Essays)
God is knitting a child in the mother’s womb patiently and slowly. This way we must make music. (Arvo Pärt)
Composing allows me to touch the essence. To tune into the flow of everything. It also allows me to go to the core of emotions. To our human bones. This is all a very physical sensation. Lucky me! I couldn’t have been in a better place.
As a zen practitioner (I happen to practice zen buddhist meditation for some years already), I don’t want to sleepwalk through the aliveness of here and now. That’s where the best art comes from anyway, from the inner pulse between the words, from the silence. Composing music is a part of that desire, just as sitting quietly in meditation. Being quiet is very important.
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing
A crack in everything, said Leonard C. That’s how the light gets in, he said. I go after that crack, after that light. That very subtle tingling.