El sonido de la magia

Desde que tengo uso de razon, no me recuerdo de otra forma que amando la musica.

Mi madre es una gran melomana tambien, recuerdo como siempre habia musica sonando en casa desde bien pequenya.

Generalmente, era musica clasica. Artistas como Mozart o Vivaldi amenizaban las manyanas. Tambien se escuchaba otra musica aunque menos frecuentemente, o al menos esa es mi impresion. Musica espanyola de los 80, musica de los 70 u 80 internacional, el famoso Franco Batiato...

Recuerdo que de pequenya estaba enamorada de la musica de Luis Cobos o Mecano; gracias, por supuesto, a la influencia de mi madre.

La musica representa mi inspiracion, el aire que respiro, las emociones que no se o que no puedo expresar, el latido de mi corazon, sentimientos que he guardado o guardo durante tantos anyos y que no quiero o no puedo compartir. Cuando escucho musica, los comparto en silencio. Puedo decir que, probablemente, el unico amor verdadero que encuentre en esta vida es el que he encontrado con la musica.

Cada melodia, estrofa, nota o sonido me inunda, llevandome a mundos lejanos donde todo lo que me rodea es bello, magico y donde me siento completamente feliz. Me permite olvidarme de temas reales, realza mi creatividad, activa mi estamina y mi corage para hacer cosas y para mejorar, para buscar la felicidad, altera mi percepcion haciendome ver solo las cosas buenas o hermosas que me encuentro en mi dia, hace brotar lagrimas que he olvidado o que me he forzado a olvidar como derramar por mi misma, toca mi alma dejando que esta viaje al mundo de las almas de Platon.

Recuerdo cuando me compraron mi piano/teclado. Era bastante caro por entonces, pero creo que es el unico regalo que de veras recordare con preciso detalle el resto de mi vida.

Cuando llegue a casa estaba muy nerviosa, me quede mirandolo durante mucho tiempo y no me atrevia a tocarlo.

Es un teclado o era muy sofisticado, con muchas funciones y demas. Pero ni si quiera me preocupaban. Cuando me atrevi a tocar mi primera tecla no me pude creer que aquel perfecto sonido habia sido creado por mi, por mis manos.

Empece a practicar, nadie me ensanyaba, yo aprendia sola. Me acuerdo que solia practicar y practicar hasta altas horas de la manyana. Me ponia retos a mi misma sobre tocar cierto numero de canciones sin cometer un solo error. Volvia a empezar cada vez que me equivocaba en una nota. Y asi una y otra vez, hasta que caia rendida.

Mi munyeca derecha tiene una desviacion que hacia que me doliera cuando la sobreusaba, pero yo seguia tocando a pesar del dolor.

Nunca me atrevi a pedir ir a clases de piano; no porque pensara que no me las pagarian, si no porque tenia miedo a fracasar, a no ser demasiado buena y darme cuenta de ello. Eso habria supuesto un gran golpe en mi vida, a parte de que no habria sido capaz de digerir que hubiera estado destrozando canciones durante tanto tiempo.

Ahora, cuando tengo la oportunidad de ir a clases; no me atrevo. Sigo teniendo ese miedo panico a no ser capaz de hacerlo bien.

Por el momento, me conformo con respirar, comer, beber y sonyar con musica. Con banyar mis dias con notas musicales de diferente tono y color. Quizas en alguna de esas notas encuentre el valor algun dia de perseguir mi suenyo mas anhelado.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since I can remember, I don’t remember myself in any other way but loving music.

My mom is a real music lover as well, I remember how the music was always playing in my house since I was a kid.

Normally, it would be classical music. Artists like Mozart or Vivaldi were living up the mornings. There were also other types of music being played, but not as often (or at least that is my impression). Spanish music from the 80’s, international music from the 70’s or 80’s, the infamous Franco Batiato…

I remember when I was in my first years of life and I was in love with the music of Luis Cobos and Mecano; all thanks of, course, to my mom’s influence.

Music represents my inspiration, the air that I breathe, the emotions that I don’t know or I can’t express, the beat of my heart, feelings that I’ve kept or that I still keep during many years and that I can’t and I don’t want to share. When I listen to music, I share these feelings in silence. I could say that, probably, the only true love that I will meet in this life is the one I found in the music.

Each melody, each verse, note or sound floods me, bringing me to far worlds where everything that surrounds me is beautiful, magic and where I feel wholly happy. It allows me to forget the current problems, enhances my creativity, activates my stamina and my courage to do things and to improve, to pursue the happiness, it alters my perception by making me see only the nice and good things that I encounter on my day, makes me flow tears that I forgot how to or I forced myself to forget how to shed, the music touches my soul lifting it up the Plato’s souls’ world.

Remember when I got my first piano. It was quite expensive back then, but I think is the only present that I will be able to remember my whole life with such great detail.

When I arrived home, I was extremely nervous, I stared at it during a long time and I didn’t dare to touch it for a good while.

It is or it was a very sophisticated keyboard, with several applications and that. But I couldn’t bother with those technical functions. When finally got the bravery to touch the first key I couldn’t believe that that perfect sound was after being created by me, with my own hands!

I started practising, nobody was teaching, I was learning by myself. I remember that I used to practise and practise until early in the morning. I used to set targets to myself, such playing certain amount of songs without making a mistake. I was starting the whole thing again everytime I was playing the wrong note. And like this, over and over again until I was falling asleep.

My right wrist has a malformation and used to hurt me when I was overusing the hand, but I kept playing regardless the pain.

I never dared to ask about getting piano lessons, not because I thought my parents wouldn’t pay them but because I was afraid to fail, afraid to not to be good enough and realise about it. That would have implied a big impact in my life, on top of not being able to assimilate that I could of being destroying songs for so long.

Now I have the opportunity to undertake lessons, but I still can’t manage it. I still feel panicking about not being able of doing properly

For the time being, I feel satisfied with breathing, eating, drinking and dreaming about music. Filling my days with music notes of different shades and colors.

Perhaps, in one of those notes I find the courage to pursue my most wished dream.