What do I want to say? To be honest, I have been working on this article for a long time, not knowing exactly what I wanted to argue, not knowing exactly what unique point I wanted to make. For a while, I thought I just wanted to share my love of music, then I tried to write about destigmatizing it in our modern culture, then music appreciation, before I decided on this: not everything has to be some wonderful, mind-bending, unique idea. Sometimes, it can be just a story.

My music journey started later than most, in 1^st grade. I had begun to need a new hobby, chess was starting to be boring, and my parents had finally decided that I needed to learn an instrument. After some consideration, my parents decided that the instrument should be piano.

I started trying to find teachers after that. A few fell through, then one finally stuck, Mr. N. Sadly, after several years, due to changing times and skill, I left and changed to the best piano teacher I ever had.

He ran a music studio, whose name I will not include for privacy reasons, and I loved him. Mr. N understood how I worked and actually seemed to enjoy teaching me, helping me, and leading me through my music journey. For the first time, I loved piano, and classical music. I’m still in contact with him today. It was incredible, and I miss him, because after too short a time, I had to change states.

With Mr. N, I found myself enjoying performing more, learning new pieces, and just the feel, the tactility of the keys under my fingers, the tiny changes I could make with my hands, and then the huge effect it would have on my ears. It was wonderful, it still is, and I wish that more people could enjoy it with me. After years and years of learning, practicing, figuring out what my voice was, what I wanted to say with my voice without words, I was finally starting to understand why people dedicate their entire lives to this skill. And my music journey was just beginning.

With that story, though a little longer than I would like, I want to ask: what part of that, of music, has anything to do with writing? Education, a little (possibly), and media, definitely, but what about writing? To me, writing isn’t just paper and pencil. It’s the emotion, carefully crafted lines, phrases, and sentences that perfectly convey a feeling, a moment, a message. But…that doesn’t have to be made of words.

Think of your favorite song, not the lyrics, just the music. Find an instrumental recording if you have to. Listen to it, and think about how that makes you feel, what you see, the goosebumps that crawl across your skin when you get to that one line, one moment, that reminds you of when you first heard it.

And apply that to everything you hear.

That, that is what music is. It’s what classical music, rock music, even some more complex pop songs are about. Conveying that…thing, tangible message or otherwise, that’s on the artist’s heart. A language without words, able to tell an audience a setting with a single note, something that anyone, of any nationality or spoken language, can understand. It’s what I fell in love with.

Even with all of this, though, musicians of all kinds are still forgotten, though we may be the most “unique” writers of all. Many people regard authors (in the traditional sense), as storytellers, even as artists. The same title goes to painters, sketch artists, even actors. Anyone who has any role in facilitating a story is thought of as a storyteller. Except for musicians, the music-makers who dedicate their lives to telling the most wonderful stories of sound. Creators, composers, writers, like Mozart, Chopin, who create pieces so powerful that they are remembered today, are not given that title.

Why are we not regarded as storytellers? Without us, many stories could not exist in the same way. What would movies be without Hans Zimmer? What would our theater be without opera? What would our car rides be without radio?

So, in the end, after all this almost ranting, this is my point. “Music is an art that goes in the ears, and straight to the heart” (themindsjournal.com). And it’s a story that anyone can enjoy, no matter language nor location. So why do we ignore it, and take it for granted? And why are we not called storytellers too?