The Symphony
“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” – Plato
There is a sound that swirls around us, travels through our ears, changes our brain chemistry, pulses into our nervous system, and causes us to dance, laugh, sing, and sometimes cry.
What is this sound? This wave of different frequencies in harmonization creating something called Music.
The very essence of music and our innate ability to play it is an anomaly. Its infinite ways of being expressed are like surfing on an intangible wave that takes us to another place—a state of mind and being that promotes imagination and releases emotion in ways that are incomprehensible.
A transcendence happens: an escape, a relatability, a tightly sealed bag of sweetness and chaos shaken and swirling like a cosmic sparkling snow globe. A hidden portal of play and invisible momentum.
A pathway connecting us to others in a way that can only be done through a combination of melodies from instruments, vocal cords, and poetry. Music can turn pain into laughter, solitude into excitement, make you feel less alone, and ignite motivation.
The art of sound has been a theme in my life since I was a small child. It really has for all of us. For much of my post-puberty years, I desired nothing more than to be a music producer and to score movies.
Music was one of my first loves in my many attempts to reimagine and reinvent myself through artistic avenues. That love never died out—even if for a short period I thought it had. It found its way into my unfoldment in other ways. Once in a while, when I need it, I sit at my piano bench and play with eternal bliss.
It brings me back to that childhood splendor of only enjoying three things: basketball, art class, and orchestra. I often dream about being in middle school, playing my violin again with my peers. I wasn’t the most skilled, but I was incredibly passionate. I even taught myself guitar, piano, and music production as far as my resources allowed.
During adolescence I struggled with chronic depression. I wouldn’t leave my room for days at a time and often let my thoughts go to the darkest places. Music saved me. My academic performance suffered because my mental state was filled with angst and worry, but music class was my sanctuary. Looking forward to our seasonal concerts was an escape from the fatigue of a very unpredictable home life.
One day, I found an old CD binder that introduced me to many musical masters. As I isolated myself in my room, those CDs were on near-constant rotation. Pink Floyd, David Bowie, CCR, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Stevie Wonder, The Smiths, and many more kept me tethered to an outlet that, upon reflection, was a sacred space.
I would sit in front of my CD player with my guitar, set a song to repeat, and continuously pause the track so I could learn songs by ear. Unfortunately, my lack of confidence and growing self-hatred would over the years lead to prolonged periods of not playing, practicing, or writing.
But the seed that was planted grew slowly within me, adding to my multidimensional creativity. The therapy it provided me when I let it in was profound. I didn’t know it at the time, but unintentionally I would close my eyes while Stevie Wonder’s “Visions” played and visualize myself as a happy, sovereign individual.
At 14, I went to a music festival with my sister, excited to see Paramore and Third Eye Blind. I vividly remember the guitarist in Third Eye Blind blowing my mind with an improvised solo during “Jumper,” making me feel totally present for the first time. That moment will always live in my soul.
In other words, music has always found its way into healing many of my wounds.
The mystery around music—its capacity for healing, promoting imagination, and making things feel more alive—is worth contemplating.
Plato couldn’t be more accurate with his statement about music’s innate capability to entwine with fundamental emotion. This realization came from his mathematical understanding. Plato observed that music and mathematics share a common foundation: harmony and proportion. In his view, music is not just art but a manifestation of the same mathematical principles that govern the cosmos.
He believed the harmony in music reflected the harmonic order of the universe, which he thought was based on mathematical relationships. This concept is closely related to the “Music of the Spheres,” an ancient idea suggesting the movements of celestial bodies—the sun, moon, and planets—create a form of music through their mathematical relationships, albeit inaudible to the human ear. It is as if music is a code to the universe.
Someone I deeply admire is Robert Edward Grant. In my opinion, he is a kind of 21st-century Leonardo da Vinci. He explores intersections of mathematics, geometry, and music.
His study of harmonics and resonance frequencies investigates how waveforms and frequencies explain the harmony and resonance we perceive in music, modeling how different notes interact based on vibrational frequencies. Some of his intricate mathematics go over my head (I did fail algebra, after all).
Another area he explores is 432 Hz tuning. While not exclusive to Grant, there is strong interest in tuning instruments to 432 Hz instead of the standard 440 Hz I saw on all my sheet music growing up.
Grant’s work encourages a deeper appreciation for the patterns and structures connecting different aspects of our world. Tapping into these frequencies through music and understanding their mathematical interconnectedness could mean healing on a global and even cosmic scale.
Some suggest that 432 Hz is more aligned with the nature of the human body, the Earth’s vibration, and even the cosmos. Many proponents say it can more effectively reduce stress and anxiety compared to music tuned to 440 Hz, bringing listeners into a deeper meditative state. It is also said to improve sleep quality and overall emotional well-being.
Though there is academic skepticism around this topic, I can say I notice significant emotional improvement when listening to this frequency—and many others can attest to this.
In heart health, music emerges as a cardiologist’s ally. Research has shown that certain rhythms and tempos can synchronize with the heart’s own beats, inducing a state of cardiovascular coherence like a well-rehearsed orchestra. This harmony between music and heartbeat can improve vascular health, with arteries and veins responding to the acoustic waves washing over them.
Let’s face it—we all have internal wounds. Without comparing to others, we all have a deep need for healing, and dare I say, it is even spiritual.
One example of music used spiritually is singing in a cathedral, church, or other places of worship. Whenever I’ve taken part in this, I felt like God was sewing up wounds and filling me with inspiration.
Music intuitively shifts our state of being. It proves its profound ability to open the floodgates of our deepest reservoirs of emotion, drawing tears from the wells of our souls. It can touch a memory, a longing, or a love—resonating with our innermost feelings and offering solace in the emotions we all share.
The invitation music gives us to sing along, join in harmony, or revel in catharsis is an outlet, a way to connect with something greater than ourselves—a path to healing.
This beautiful dichotomy—the symphony’s ability to both mirror and mold our emotional states—is what makes it a timeless companion through the rich and sometimes painful path of life.
The symphony is a whisper in the silence, a shout in the noise, a guide through the labyrinth of our complicated nature, leading us to discover, feel, and understand the depths of our own humanity.
Just imagine our ancestors thousands of years ago, dancing and singing around a fire, telling stories through song and movement. It was the only way to preserve their stories—to sing to their children and grandchildren, to raise morale in the tribe after a hard day of hunting, or to evoke prayers for rain, peace, healing, or enlightenment.
Because they did this for millennia after millennia, it was the art and music that kept them hopeful that their existence wouldn’t be in vain.
Think about how musical instruments have evolved over centuries. In 500 AD in Ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome, early string instruments like harps and lyres laid the foundation for plucked string instruments. In the Middle Ages, the oud from the Arab world made its way to Iberia with the Moors, later evolving into the European lute—a key ancestor of the guitar.
One day, that evolution led to someone like Jimi Hendrix, with a guitar style fusing raw emotion, technical virtuosity, and experimental soundscapes.
I could go on about the timeline of the instruments we know today, but do we really think of it? How they evolved over thousands of years, why they did?
All to meet countless genres and subgenres, cultural expressions, and the unique voice of each musician. When I acknowledge that history, I feel immense gratitude and recognize the gravity and importance of music in our human story—and the role it continues to play.
Beethoven said: “Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy,” implying that while logic and intellect are high domains of understanding, music lives in a realm even above what we typically hold as the highest cognition.
When we write and play a song, it is as if we are discovering it for the first time. Always new, always changing, always moving and influencing the environment. It rings in our ears the next day, the next year, the next century.
The symphony reminds us of our finite life in this physical form, aids us during the journey, and lives on for all who simply listen.
