Everything is Music

There are days I sit still long enough to hear it.

Not the noise—the traffic, the tension, the ten thousand things demanding my name—but the rhythm underneath. A low hum that threads through everything, even silence. Especially silence.

A rhythm I didn’t create, but have always moved to.

Sometimes I wonder if human existence is made of music.

Not just shaped by it, not just lifted through it—but built from it. As if we’re strung together by sound. Composed, not constructed.

Before language, there was heartbeat.

Before thought, there was breath.

Our first lullaby was blood rushing in the womb. The steady drum of a mother’s pulse. Even now, when life overwhelms and words fall short, we reach for melody. We hum, we weep, we sing—instinctively.

Maybe it’s because music isn’t something we listen to.

Maybe it’s something we are.

We move in time: sleep and wake, inhale and exhale, birth and death. Rhythm. Pattern. Repetition. Our lives unfold in tempo—some fast and frantic, some slow and sacred.

Our bodies know what our minds forget:
We are made of waves.
We are vibration and resonance.
We are dancing, even when we’re standing still.

Even pain has a pitch. Grief wails in minor key. Joy swells in crescendo. Anger cracks like cymbals against the sky. And love? Love hums—low, steady, unmistakable. The kind of sound that stays in your bones long after it's gone.

There is music in every ache.
Music in every memory.
Music in every moment we mistake for silence.

Maybe this is why a single note can shatter us—or save us.

Why a song from childhood can carry us home.

Why strangers can become kin just by singing the same line.

Maybe the universe doesn’t speak in words. Maybe it sings.

And if that’s true—if everything is music—then maybe we don’t have to understand everything to belong to it.

Maybe all we need to do is listen.

So today, I’m tuning in.

Letting the noise fall away. Letting the melody of being take the lead again.

And somewhere in all that… I feel a little less alone.

Thanks for being here, thank you for being you.
More reflections to come.