No one can deny the power that music has on humans. The strange tug our hearts feel when a nostalgic piece enters our ears, the nearly irresistible urge to get up and dance unashamedly when that one song comes on the radio. I wonder, however, if more can be said of our connection to music. We have experienced music in our lives, but have we lived a musical life?
What I mean by this could be better illustrated with the aid of an old but profound piece of literature. The legendary Roman orator Cicero wrote an account of the cosmos which he called The Dream of Scipio. It consists of the historical character Scipio recounting a vision of the universe as nine concentric spheres, the outermost sphere being Heaven and the innermost Earth. Through the mouth of Scipio, Cicero gives fascinating descriptions of the origins and end of souls, but what is particularly relevant here is Cicero’s take on an ancient cosmic theory known as the “music of the spheres.” You do not have to be as nerdy about old books and philosophy as I am to appreciate how beautiful this is:
“That,” he replied, “is the music of the spheres. They create it by their own motion as they rush upon their way. The intervals between them, although differing in length, are all measured according to a fixed scheme of proportions; and this arrangement produces a melodious blend of high and low notes, from which emerges a varied harmony.”
It is difficult to imagine the vastness of the universe blending together in an eternal symphony without being profoundly affected. Part of this image’s power is its acknowledgment that music is fundamentally intertwined with our understanding of the world. We see things through a musical lens in that our reactions to life events are often colored by certain songs or musical ideas. Music is, in a way, our conduit or connection to the world.
Scipio’s dream is also metaphorically powerful in that it is a reminder that life itself is musical. We tend to see life as being ordered mathematically, (and Cicero’s proportionate “intervals” assure us that it is), but we forget that life is also a song. Scipio says, “The ears of mankind are filled with this music all the time. But they have become completely deaf to its melody…” What greater tragedy could ever befall us? You see, the world certainly operates by mathematical and scientific laws that give it order. But it is also inexplicably beautiful, like a song. Why are leaves green? Why does the ground explode skyward into mountains? For heaven’s sake, why is this world chock full of these strange but enjoyable monsters that we call human beings? Life is a grand adventure. We will meet deep, inconsolable sorrow, but there is also hope that transcends it all. The melody of life sometimes works itself into a dissonance, but there is promise of a resolution into harmony once again.
Not everyone has forgotten. Our ears may have become deaf to the cosmic melody, but there are those who still remember its sweet tones. They act in a way that sometimes defies logic and cannot be explained mathematically. For instance, why would men aboard a sinking Titanic in 1912 give up their place on a lifeboat to complete strangers and thus sacrifice their lives and any hope of recognition or remembrance? I would argue that it is because they were each playing their part in the grand symphony. Not everyone has forgotten.
The music of the spheres plays on, even though our ears have been stopped. We can hear its overtones in our lives, though, when we experience those moments that remind us of life’s musical quality. It is present in the little acts of sacrifice, the faint but immortal voice of hope in a dark situation and the simple, inexplicable beauty of the chance to live a life. Life is a song, and a beautiful one at that.
