image-ine: a visceral reaction to sound

i was blissfully unaware of the fact that people lived with music inside of them. it took falling in love to learn this life truth. he was angled and beautiful: tan skin, rippled with muscle curvature and dark curls that framed his strong jawline. the music inside of him spontaneously made its way out of his fingers, his feet, his hair, his waist. everything about him would move to that internal rhythm. every object around him would become an instrument, a sound maker.

i started realising that i had not been allocated to this gene pool. avid listening: next best option.

now when i say listen, i am not referring to the mundane action of allowing sound waves to hit those miniscule bones inside my ears. i am talking about the moment where music makes its way into me and becomes a part of me: akin to making love, it’s a beautiful friction that leaves me shaking, breathless.

the very first time i ever listened to music was at the age of eleven. a dry south african heat flooded the spacious airy room. he drew the curtains to lessen the glare on the sheets of music. i crawled in under the overhang of the keys and propped myself up against the box of the piano: a feeble attempt to escape the suffocating warmth.

the box is vibrating against my skin and hair. the keys he touches pull at my heart in a painful way. his hands on those ivory bars evoke an emptiness within me that did not exist ten minutes prior to this. he pushes onto the far right pedal, allowing the note to carry on, prolonging my inner anguish.

then, just like the snap of a pea pod, his hands bounce up and burst into another song, so mercilessly bright, that i quite literally feel torn in two because here i am wanting to dance but some grey matter somewhere is still processing the previous moment.

my first love story ends. my best friend starts playing the cello as a second instrument. his hands, on those piano keys, call me down the aisle on my wedding day. the man i marry plucks chords. the music continues.

a brilliant northern sunshine announces summer mornings here in my dublin seaside village home. good mornings start with a slow awakening, a stretching of the legs, a feeling of the sheets on skin, a plodding to the music making machine, a turning on of sound… today i choose “people help the people” by birdy.

this starting the morning slow, this is the poetic life.

talk to us:

share a music video in the comments that you want us to listen to, to really hear.

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photos and post by Claire Burge.

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Claire Haidar

Part chaos. Part rocket fuel. CEO of the tech company WNDYR and co-founder of the Pattyrn app. Author of Spin: Taking Your Creativity to the Nth Degree. Wild child.

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