My entire youth was spent lip-synching and karaoke-ing my buns off with friends, bouncing from choir class to musical theatre performances. As I grew up, my priorities shifted and music was outweighed and replaced by seemingly significant instances that required my attention, or so I thought. Ignoring the gift I was given was one of the silliest decisions I’ve ever made, and it led to a bit of confusion toward the path I wanted to lead.

I’d been toying with the idea of learning to play the guitar for years, however, amidst a whirlwind of life changes, many of which seemed impossible and overwhelming, it was just another task on the list. Little did I know, music was the only thing that I could center myself with. With music, you become forcibly present and all of your attention aligns to produce a harmonious sound and pleasant vibe. Your hands, your voice, your concentration, together they hold infinite magic.

Music is most definitely the closest I can say I’ve come to magic. That’s not to say the final product is perfect; it’s not. Art is all subject to opinion. The magic is always rooted in the composition of the art, the final product is merely the period on the end of the process.

Throughout my yearly struggles and joys, music has found me even if I’ve protested. I believe we owe it to ourselves to expand and explore each one of our gifts. I believe we have the capacity to manufacture magic.

Take a listen to where my heart lies these days below.

(The photo above is my great-grandfather. It has nothing to do with this particular post, but seeing as I wouldn’t be here without his existence, his photo is appropriate on anything I post. Plus, he just looks fly.)