The art of reproducing music with and through an instrument brings the most unsoundable feelings of olfactory propertyual completion to me. Without my dearest friend, my portable Yamaha DGX 500, life would set a journey through a desert. Playing the keyboard is my passion, the ane and only activity that my heart craves to engage in during blank time and even when doing necessary tasks.
Playing the keyboard is a major(ip) composition of my life. It constitutes a core foundation of my character. It is favorite quest, and, as an adhesive keeps substances attached, compete the keyboard keeps me together and keeps me alive. Engaging in this diversion serves as a medium of communication between me and the world, a heart and disposition of ministering unto myself, relieving stress and also as a means of ministering unto other(a)s.
I speak to the world through the notes produced on my keyboard. I am suddenly transformed into a polyglot as my music is on a global sphere. It ripples at not bad(p) speed across languages, ideologies, frontiers and races wish an unrestricted domain with an unfathomable range of reach. At the keyboard, I enter into a spic-and-span realm, one of telepathic communication. My fingers breadths pose extensions of my brain and I become alert as a lion about to dancing upon prey. If there is hurt, pain, fear, ambivalence, anger, desperation or ecstasy, it never fails to appear in the output of music. It is the unique reproduction of who I am and of what I seek to tell everyone. I express my identity through this slicener and the world responds. Through family, friends and isolated comments on my acting the world recognizes me as the individual that I am; keyboard man.
Music in itself is a form of therapy. It washes away from the soul the accumulating dust of everyday life. When I play the keyboard, I give up stress and heal from the blows that life throws from time to time. For example; when I become stuck at a school assignment, I delay to play the keyboard and I then become excited as an Aztec high priest on narcotics. At the keyboard I know in a world of euphoria, I take entertainment in pounding the keys, feeling their response beneath my finger tips, hearing the sound swirl around the room and drowning me in the winds of relief. My stresses are diminished even consumed by the satisfaction that I derive from playing the keyboard. Words indeed cannot express the rush that music provides throughout the depth of my be.
I have forever and a day desired to be a philanthropist and though playing the keyboard is minor on the scale compared to such other acts, I accomplish a little, though a baby musical note in ministering unto other people. For example; I have seen the spirit of worship at church services resuscitated through the skill of the keyboardist, and it is in such that I delight. To be part of something on the bigger scale, of being able just like a demagogue to motivate people drawing them into that strange musical dimension and of receiving their responses. I have been a blessing, a flicker of hope to the blind, the bedridden, the paralyzed and the hospitalized. I have seen faces light and infernos of hopelessness and stress extinguished. Indeed there is no other greater satisfaction to me than letting the keyboard be an extension of myself, of being an instrument of service that I of my own would be also crippled to render.
Music to me, is the bible to accompany life; the eventual(prenominal) library of comfort, hope and direction. Playing the keyboard is my absolute and ultimate pastime as it constitutes a means of communication and ministry and highlights my identity, keyboard man
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