THE SYMPHONY OF BEING: Musings on music and existence
I become more convinced every day that music is the most wonderful thing in my world. Its transformative properties and ability to bring out the most intense emotions. Its power to lift one’s heart from the darkest depths of sadness to an optimistic appreciation of all that is beautiful in the world. No matter how well we understand its effects on the brain, the subjective experience of music will always be magical; for knowing how a photograph is developed or how a flower is fertilised and blooms does not make them less beautiful but all the more so.
Music is a dance, showing us that even in what seems meaningless, beauty can emerge. It exists only in the present and yet ties it together with the past and the future—existing in the transition between notes and elements that have past and what is yet to come. It is a metaphor for all that exists in this sense. In a vacuum of time, music does not exist and neither does anything else of what we know as existence. Everything is always in a state of transition, never static—all of us and everything exist as oscillations between one pole and another. Like the vibration of a violin string, the movement gives the illusion of there being a note or something more but it exists only in our subjective experience of it. The oscillating atoms and waves that constitute our material world operate on the same principle: their movement and interactions give rise to matter. When you think too hard about this, existence becomes an even more absurd state of affairs, but I find it incredibly beautiful in our shared subjectivity of what appears to be.
It seems to me that there are fundamentally two states of existence in any objective sense: what 'is' and what 'isn't'. We can never truly perceive the world and existence in a wholly objective manner. As Jacques Lacan posited, our perception is mediated through fantasies, which are deeply influenced by the symbolic order of language and culture. One can imagine how these fantasies are also shaped by our past experiences, alongside our biological makeup and the sensory input processed by our spinal column, among countless other factors that imbue perception with meaning. Consequently, even though we often distinguish between our material reality and our thoughts and ideas, they are as existent as anything else—though they might have a more tenuous connection to what we consider material reality. Music demonstrates this perfectly, existing only as a pattern interpreted by our minds while having no static material structure in any given moment. As William Blake wrote, "If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, Infinite." Between these two objective states of ‘is’ and ‘isn’t’, there is a song and dance of infinite complexity, impossible to comprehend except from a subjective perspective.
This idea used to petrify me, but now I find comfort in the sense that it demonstrates that human beings are more similar than we are different. No person looks at the world in exactly the same way, and yet all similarly enough to give the illusion of objectivity. The fact that we can agree on the objectivity of anything beyond ‘is’ and ‘isn’t’ is evidence of our shared humanity—and more, to an extent, our connection to the animal kingdom all the way down to the smallest microbe; all subjective categories within the oneness of being.
Of course, this interconnectedness isn't just a personal musing, and philosophers – such as Alan Watts – have explored similar themes. We continuously endeavour to separate man from the natural world leading to a perspective that we are a species of foreigners transported to a separate plane of existence; a place where resources are there to be used by humans as external to ourselves. You can see this in language, and our endeavour to subjectively seperate what is created by humans from what is formed by nature—‘man-made’ in contrast to the ‘natural’ world. However, this is again a distinction based on nothing other than the distraction of our egos and our imagined separation of us from the world (or what ‘is’). Watts often used the analogy of the earth "peopling" in the same way an apple tree "apples." In other words, humans are not separate from the earth but are a natural expression of it. Tschaikovsky’s Valse Sentimentale is, thus, as much a product of nature as any beehive, anthill, or sunset—appreciated for its beauty from our subjective perspective as something that is somehow separate from the natural world, but ultimately, part of the infinite dance of existence.
In the end, music serves as a metaphor for this intricate symphony of existence and our place within it. But beyond the metaphysical, this interconnectedness has tangible implications. Recognising our bond with the world around us is not just poetic; it's a call to action. It beckons us towards a more harmonious and sustainable way of living, urging us to respect the delicate balance of our environment. From the perspective outlined above, existence simply ‘is’, and ‘life’ will continue with or without human beings. However, from my (subjective) perspective, to neglect this balance and let the symphony of nature – and what we know as life on earth – be disrupted by inaction or apathy, would be a profound loss. So, as we navigate the complexities of existence and the challenges of our time, let's cherish the music that binds us, reminding us of our shared responsibility in this ever-evolving dance of life. Whether any of this matters in an objective sense is beside the point; I, for one, would prefer to keep the music playing.
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