Brain splitting post-music.

I was reading an essay by Haruki Murakami last week. The man loves jazz. He never intended on becoming a writer. He fell backwards into writing, just like he fell backwards into jazz. Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers in Japan. A birthday present gave him access. A jazz concert spawned a writing career. That makes sense to me. In my opinion, true expression, and true art should be transcendent. No matter the media, art should create a sphere where all other media can find a mutual bond, thus transcending the bounds that humans have set to define it categorically. When I see a painting that moves me, it moves me because all at once I can hear the music that it provokes, and see the words that it creates. Music should easily transfer into words, and painting should transfer into music, etc. But I digress.

I would like to think that jazz is transcendent. I don't think that it has a very rigid definition. Then again, try to label something that isn't jazz around someone who knows what is, and there could be a problem. Maybe defining it verbally is impossible, but on some esoteric and sensory level it isn't. Falling backwards into something, yet without forfeiting volition, is jazz. Those are the moments that really cut and make you smile. Epiphanies, when a premeditated thought materializes into a burst of brilliant spontaneity, can make even the most structured people melt.

For some reason I have never been a risk-taker. It is in my DNA. However, at the same time, there is something very attractive about living a life of jazz. Maybe I only want to rationalize my own indecision, but I really like the idea of falling backwards into something. I never had any intention to become a musician. I get sweaty just thinking about it. I can't justify it; and I see no clear path towards doing it the way that I want to, but I still want to try.