For all the pensive souls in the world tonight.
The first time I heard the opening strains of Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1, I teared.
I teared because, well, firstly, I was alone in my room and there was no one around to hide my emotions from.
Then I teared because, it felt like everything I knew about Beauty was encapsulated in this music. Beauty not only in the joyful and jubilant, but also in the sorrow and agony.
And when the Piano finally entered, above a cloud of luscious strings, I closed my eyes and literally felt like I was in heaven.
And I remember thinking to my 17 or 18-year-old self, how can I imagine a life without such music? Such enormous aural beauty? How is it possible that the mere vibrations of atoms in the air can cause this inexplicable ache and pull in my heart?
Since then, Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 has become my No. 1 melancholic antidote. The antidote I take when melancholy sets in. I know its weird that I would want to listen to such a melancholic piece when I’m already feeling down, but that’s the way I’m wired, I guess. Everything usually feels better after a good cry.