Brothers in music - the amazing ways in which music unites and heals

I don't know where my life would be right now without music. I doubt it would be a very nice place, though. I've been a huge music fan for as long as I can remember. I was always the kid with the headphones.
And it was amazing. It always has been amazing. I was thinking about this last night, while attending a concert. Not too much, because the moment felt too good to miss, but a thought went through my head – somehow, through some brilliant miracle, I'm able to feel this. I am blessed enough for the melody to travel deep into my soul and bones.
And one other thought – thank you.
I don't know to whom, or precisely why I was thanking them, but I just felt this immense gratitude for this beautiful thing in my life. Music.

I was very excited to be going to this concert. At first, I didn't know why, but then I did. Beside the beautiful music, this particular band creates an atmosphere that is hard not to love. They make you feel like one big family, like you're not just a bunch of strangers sitting together at a concert, but like old friends, sharing bread and stories around a camp fire.

It's like it's a different crowd.

The singer said that just last night. He said that's what concert organizers tell them. And they're right, you know? It's a fantastic feeling, to belong somewhere, and I was truly amazed when I looked around and I saw these big smiles on people's faces as they sang along.
Boy, you feel every song down to the bone.

Music unites in a way few things can. Families fight, friends drift apart, but when we're together at a concert, we're not strangers anymore. We're something else. It's a safety that you feel with people you know have got your back. It's an astonishing feeling. Remember, we're talking about apparent strangers here.
But people aren't strangers at concerts. At least, not the ones I've been to. There's a bond, there's a feeling of mutual understanding.

I don't know you and I don't know who you are. But you like this band. You sing along to my favorite song, because perhaps it's yours also. And that makes you alright. That's good enough for me.

Can you honestly tell me you feel that way with anyone else?

Last night, as the concert began, a beautiful young woman stopped beside me. She was pushing a wheelchair, with a little boy inside. Couldn't have been more than six, I think, and he couldn't walk. And as the singer took the stage, she took the little boy in her arms, and began dancing with him. And I watched her, as she sang along to the first song, and looked at her little boy and I almost cried.
There was so much happiness in her face, she literally was smiling from ear to ear. I saw in her face that amazing release that music provides.
I saw someone who was truly happy, and she was extraordinary, in that moment, she seemed beyond beautiful.
I realized that's why I love music so much, because it makes people smile like that. And that's close to a miracle, in my book.

And that wasn't the only thing. There's this camaraderie that forms, at a concert, especially with those in your immediate vicinity. There's the guy who's way off with his singing and the girl whose hair keeps swinging into your face... And last night, there was an older couple, right in front of us. In their 60s, I would say. And again, they seemed so happy. They held each other and danced and the man threw his hand in the air, it was beautiful. And the most amazing thing was – to me – that they seemed to be foreigners, and the band is Moldavian – their songs are in Romanian.
And it's not the first time I've seen it – people who don't even understand the lyrics, singing along to the music. Amazing. Because music is universal, it speaks to the soul, not the mind, regardless of how mind-blowingly good the lyrics are.

In music, we're all brothers.

Let me give you another example. A couple of weeks back, I traveled to the UK with my family to see some rock concerts. Now, these tend to be more aggressive, people mosh and throw each other around. Not my particular way of enjoying a show, but it's all in good fun, I suppose. And at some point during the concert, during a particularly rowdy song, some dude came flying out of nowhere, pushing me off the spot I was on and the man I had been standing next to – a complete stranger – immediately began chiding this dude, to give me my spot back (it was close to the stage). And I was very moved that this man cared enough to do that. After a bit of arguing, the flying dude turned around and put his arm around me, to show we were all ok. And we were. He did give me my spot back and everyone parted happy.

It's strange, the family that is born simply because these people chose to attend the same concert.

See, folks don't get that – traveling somewhere to see a band. I often get shocked faces when I say I'm only going to Paris for a concert. But these are people who don't understand that I'm also going to see family.
Family I haven't met yet, true. But it's still family and I know I'll have a good time in their presence.
It warmed my heart yesterday, while checking the event page before the concert, to see that someone had posted a picture of them on the train, they were coming from another city, just to see this band. Because it was important. Because it was an experience they didn't want to miss.

And that's what it's all about. Life, I mean. It's about the experiences you don't miss. It's about the families you create. Through love, through music, through art.

What do you say...Brothers?

Carla's Dreams -Monomaniac

Thank you for reading,