The Melody That Lives Within me

It Was Something Strange

“Play one beat at a time.

Do, Fa, Sol, La, Mi.”

Then, after you master them,

“Play three beats.”

Then, with the plectrum, he began to play the oud.

And I began playing the second oud with the plectrum.

At first, I was afraid. Then I began to realize that I already knew this melody somewhere deep inside me.

I followed my inner feeling, my inner notes.

My teacher was astonished.

I continued playing as though I were an accomplished musician.

“Stop,” he said. “You are learning too quickly.”

But I did not stop.

I wanted to know where this melody would take me.

The music grew louder with every stroke of the plectrum. He picked up a drum and began beating it, trying to keep up with the melody I had created.

I stopped.

He said,

“What you have learned in one hour usually takes people three lessons to reach. Be patient. Do not rush.”

I played the three beats, and the notes began to flow one after another.

It was as though a festival of joy had suddenly begun.

I am accustomed to music flowing sweetly through my hands.

Perhaps it is my thirsty soul that is playing.

Or perhaps it is my passion for music.

Or perhaps it is my connection to the two parts of the universe that makes me join one of its magnificent melodies.

How happy I am.

I somehow knew my teacher’s instructions before he even taught them to me.

I had never studied music before.

So how could I have known?

It is a wonderful thing to discover certain things at the very moment you need to know them, without anyone’s help.

The oud, then the piano and guitar, and some local instruments became the foundation of my training. Then I moved on to studying the quality of my voice and its vibrations.

I trained myself to sing through its different tones.

Now, I am close to what I have been seeking.

I am certain now that I am part of another world, and that I came from somewhere far away—somewhere beyond this world of mine.

I belong to a pure, immaculate white canvas, filled with green plants and birds singing songs of love.

Perhaps I am a white iris there.

Or maybe I was a shy jasmine flower, or a summer chrysanthemum.

Perhaps I was a river of flowing milk,

or honey, sweet to those who drink from it.

I might have been a point of light,

or a butterfly with dazzling colors.

Perhaps I was a bee, making honey to heal weary travelers along the road.

On my journey into music,

I found what I had been searching for.

May I be reborn once again.

28.8.2026