Making Music

Across all cultures and times, human beings have made music.We sing, we drum, we clap, we move — not only to express ourselves, but to connect, to celebrate, to heal. There is something deeply human in this impulse, something that belongs to all of us. Making music is one of the most natural and joyful expressions of being alive. It allows us to feel, to communicate, and to experience harmony in a direct and immediate way. In this sense, music is not something we learn, it is something we remember.

According to ancient Chinese texts, music is the balance of heaven and earth — heaven reflecting on earth, and earth responding to heaven. According to the Sufis, music is food for the soul, and the soul itself is, in its essence, music. Music is a mystery, and making music is a wonderful opportunity to truly experience that mystery.

The roots of human music are ancient. Some of the earliest known instruments were flutes crafted from bird bones and mammoth ivory, dating back approximately 40,000 years. Before developed instruments, the human voice was the primary tool for producing sound, along with clapping and foot-stamping. The earliest forms of human singing most likely took place in caves, enhanced by natural acoustics. For our ancestors, a cave was not just a shelter, but a living, resonant space for communication, vocal expression, and ceremony. The reflection of fire on the cave walls, together with the powerful resonance of sound, must have created a magical atmosphere — perhaps the earliest settings and forms of shamanic ritual.

This is the archaic aspect of making music, the part that connects us back to the origins of human culture, to thousands of years of living in nature or in caves, around the fire, connecting with each other and the cosmos through sound. Our ear is the first fully developed organ, and our earliest acoustic memory is the heartbeat of our mother, her breath, and later her voice — the voices of the family, the nocturnal sounds of the night. Music reconnects us to that primal feeling of safety, warmth, and origin. Music brings us home.

Music was a healing art for me from the very beginning. It started with the healing of a traumatic loss in my early childhood and continued into adventurous journeys, opening me to various ancient musical traditions, as well as to real, lived mystical experiences through music. Apart from human relationships, making music became the most meaningful activity in my life, my passion, meditation and prayer.

I have spoken at length about music as a universal language in previous writings, and about the fact that the basic elements of music — sound, rhythm, melody, harmony, resonance, pulsation, and flow — are expressions of fundamental, universal laws of nature and the cosmos.

Music provides a clear structure and language through which we can express ourselves and transform emotions into beauty and art. Rhythms, scales, chords, and melodies become a path along which we can move, feel, receive, and tell a story. The journey through the octave reflects the cycle of life. Through melodic movement and intervals, we experience countless possibilities of harmony and existence. Every note is related to the fundamental from which it arises and oriented toward the octave to which it resolves — and the movement in between mirrors the archetypal process of growth and evolution.

Regardless of style, the joy and blessing of making music remain the same. Music, like culture, carries inner codes that must be felt and understood in order to communicate and play. Making music in a group means entering a shared journey — appreciating what each person brings, and experiencing unity and communion. By singing and playing together, we naturally feel connected, welcomed, and at home. Tribal cultures have always had strong traditions of collective music-making — gathering around the fire to sing, drum, and dance. Those who joined would gradually learn the songs and rhythms, becoming part of the living culture. This was one of the earliest forms of musical learning: through presence, listening, and imitation. A slow, organic transmission — a deeply human way of teaching and guiding the next generation.

By playing music, we create an energetic field that connects all participants; a matrix of rhythm and sound, a safe space in which we can feel part of a greater whole. Through music, we receive harmony in a pure and universal form, and personal emotions are transformed into something more refined and shared. Making music nourishes our entire being; our listening and expression, our presence and attention, our communication and openness, our spontaneity and, above all, our playfulness.

We play music — we don’t think music. And if we truly play, we are not afraid of mistakes. Mistakes are part of the process. It is liberating to see a great musician laugh about a mistake or transform it so skillfully that it becomes part of the music. The wrong note becomes the right note. Magical. Playful.

According to ancient Chinese wisdom, music reflects the balance of heaven and earth. The more music embodies that balance, the stronger its effect and the deeper the satisfaction we experience. Yin and yang — activity and passivity, doing and observing, playing and listening, giving and receiving — it is essential in music. Just as in life, imbalance creates tension. It is very tiring to be with someone that constantly talks, is always rushed or never listens; it is frustrating after some time, because there is no communication, no meeting, no space for others. True music requires space, silence, and breath. Often, the most profound moments of healing in music arise in these quieter spaces — in listening, in pauses, in the silence that follows sound.

Making music is an art on many levels. It trains our presence, perception, listening, coordination, expression, self-awareness  And perhaps there are only two fundamental mistakes: doing too much or doing too little. Some tend to overplay — too loud, too dominant, always filling the space. Others hold back — too shy, too quiet, not fully offering their gift.

In music, there is always a precise place for each of us — a role that fits the moment, the situation, our abilities, and our sensitivity. When we find that place, tuned to where we are really at, music becomes effortless and joyful. There is no confusion, competition or pressure but a sense of inclusion, equality, and shared presence.

Making music is not only for professionals. It is a gift and a healing force available to everyone.

I believe that through music we can learn to cultivate a more harmonious way of living. We can build an inner temple, a place we can return to, to recharge, to refine our perception, to deepen our appreciation for beauty. But above all, music teaches us the art of communion, of being in harmony with others, tuning ourselves to the great symphony of life, with joy.