Getting back to my roots.
"Where words fail, music speaks."
I've treasured that quote by Christian Hans Andersen since I learned the language of music. At 11 years old, I had no idea of the impact music would have on my life for the next decade. I didn't know that I would be this close to making it my sole career.
And I almost did. But life has a way of molding your experiences in unexpected ways, and inadvertently, music pushed me on a different journey. It still inspired me to be a sort of storyteller, just a less lyrical one.
I dedicated a decade of my life to playing music. I went to a performing arts school. I participated in concert bands, jazz bands, county bands, wind ensembles, quartets... I made my parents drive me and my euphonium around all over the state until I was old enough to drive myself.
I wouldn't trade my unconventional artistic school experience for anything in the world. But, life moves on, and when I started studying journalism, music was put on the back-burner. I was still involved in it while at the University of Central Florida, but I had other priorities.
After graduation, I moved to Ormond Beach, and playing fell to the wayside. I missed it. And yes, there are a couple of local community bands, but their rehearsals conflicted with my hectic work schedule, so I thought my days of playing in a concert band were over.
Then I got a press release about the Daytona State College Community Symphonic Band. There were a million reasons why I shouldn't join — my work schedule, the late hour of the rehearsal, the commitment I would be making for months.
On the other hand, I could think of one reason that I felt outweighed the rest.
Since I'd stopped playing regularly, I'd always felt something was missing. It might sound silly, or pretentious, but music is a part of who I am. Being at that first rehearsal was like having a huge sundae after months of a no-sugar diet.
I felt happy, and I felt at peace.
I'm glad I joined.