S ong of David

I have a theory that music is the true lifeblood of the world, not water or oxygen, and the person lucky enough to tap into that life force can live forever. It’s a theory to live by, and I’ve tried to live my life by drawing out the melody of the everyday, the sharp, the shivering, the shimmering, extracting it from its hidden shell and holding it, sculpting it, giving it form and substance and, above all, voice.

In my former life, I was a rock-jamming, head-banging musical artist, and life was swinging and grooving and so, so melodious. Only, there came the day when I discovered the difference between music of the body and music of the soul, and learned to sing the song of Torah, to hear the music of the ancient cobblestoned alleyways that traversed the holy land of the spirit. On that day, and it was a day that was really a lifetime, I put away my electric guitar and ripped jeans and friends named Scar and Jimbo, and jumped into the music of eternity.

If it sounds quick and easy, well, the lightning-flash moment of clarity and feeling the truth inside my bones came fast. The rest went as slow as anything.

But the point of this story isn’t to play you the song of my teshuvah tale, a song sung many times over. It’s to tell you how I recaptured my music, though it took decades. Sometimes, you see, it’s easier to discover Truth than it is to discover yourself. But let me start at the beginning. (Excerpted from Calligraphy, Succos 5778)