We each have our own ideas what feeds our soul. Mine is not religion or love, although I am a spiritual being and I give and receive love freely.
When I was younger and would listen to music and be transported to some place safe and cozy in my innermost being, I didn't have words to describe what happened. I just knew it was clean and shiny and pure. Nothing else in my life was that way so all the more reason this "place" was enticing.
As a baby I was christened in the church and given a Christian name. That name was in honor of the patron saint of music. Ironic that a name that was given to me was associated with music even if I was not actually called that name.
Because of the meager circumstances while I was growing up, a small AM radio was my opportunity to escape my surroundings. It was electric so I listened to the radio every time I was in my room. Which caused a dilemma for me. I loved being outside playing in the dirt, working with the plants and weeding even though I didn't know what I was doing. It seemed to come naturally to me and it was exhilarating to save a plant or flower from extinction.
I was ten years old when I attended a piano concert for the first time. I remember the feelings of elation and ecstasy the moment the first chord was struck. I stared and did not move the entire time. I was so thirsty and could not get enough of the beautiful music. My eyes were bugging out of my head but more than that, my heart was singing and my soul was being fed. I could feel it from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. I was hooked. For life. And I knew it absolutely.
After the encores and the curtain closed, I jumped from my chair and ran out the side door. I had never been there before and I had no idea where I was going, but I was sure in a hurry. I ran and no one stopped me. I found a way to get back stage and I swung open a door to the dressing room of the person who had just left the stage. He was standing in his dressing room trying to light a cigarette and his hand was shaking so much he could not light the cigarette. I ran up to him and held his hand and helped him light his cigarette and I beamed at him. I was not in love with him, but I was in love with his music. And he knew it as he stood looking at my soul. I still have the program from that concert and it still means so much to me. I have been to many many concerts of all types, some at wonderful places like John F. Kennedy Center For Performing Arts in Washington DC and The Opera House in Paris, France. But that concert in an auditorium at a city college in our town was my most precious gift of all time.