Simply Exist

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Frank Macchia

Frank Macchia (born October 12, 1958) is an American composer, arranger, saxophonist, and multi-reed player in Los Angeles. Originally from San Francisco he began playing clarinet at age 10 and later studied bassoon, saxophone and flute. At 14 he began studying musical composition and writing jazz and classical music pieces. He is known for his large catalog of eclectic and virtuosic original compositions spanning jazz, classical, Cajun, Americana, experimental, New Age, Spoken Word, and jazz-fusion styles as well as his extensive work as a composer and orchestrator for live television and television and film soundtracks. Macchia has been noted for his jazz and orchestral arrangements of traditional American folk songs. more »

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There’s something I’m desperate to say but I’m not sure how to start.  Words have a way of defining something that is not the intention of my thoughts yet this is the tool we’ve created to communicate our ideas. I suppose there’s other ways to communicate our innermost intentions but they seem more abstract, like music without words or visual art. An image or sound contains feeling and thought yet its direction is more amorphous and can be construed with multiple meanings. 

So, what is this desperate message I’m trying to convey? How do I express the dimensions of my feelings into words that seem so limited and flat compared to what I feel in my heart,in my soul? Why does emotion well up within me in just thinking about the expression of these thoughts? What exactly are these emotions I feel? A lifetime of enduring pain, love, loss, joy and the ultimate realization that all of these feelings, whether good or bad will eventually end and leave me with the unknowable future of what was this thing called consciousness all about? Maybe the energy that is me will transform into some other deeper form of consciousness and I’ll look back at this strange existential experience I had with a much more profound sense of meaning. Or, maybe there will be nothing; no sense of consciousness whatsoever, just a sweet black quiet void of nothingness, which in some strange way seems quite calming and lovely. No more ego and self consciousness to fight and distract me. No more sense of self and self-importance. Just a nice, quiet, peaceful drifting through the universe and it’s wonders with no sense of awareness at all.

But then I come back to my life, this moment in time and wonder why we exist at all? Do we really exist or is this some strange conceptual dream or false reality where we are merely simulations; a game for some other entities to amuse themselves with. In the same sense that we write fictional stories maybe this whole “group reality” we convince ourselves we are in is merely a created manipulation by some other life form or entity in the universe. Or possibly our universe as we conceptualize it is just one elaborate dream and we dream within this dream? Kind of like when we look into a mirror with a mirror behind us and we see an infinite amount of pasts and futures all at once. 

We spend our lives in this strange reality that we have construed and manipulated in various ways with our finite minds pretending that we are in control of our destiny and reality when in fact we are simply on a ridiculous treadmill trying to figure out what reality truly means. But we don’t have the wherewithal to expand our finite thinking to comprehend the reality that we “see” and truly understand the universe which we think we reside in. 

I don’t know what I’m trying to get at here but maybe that’s the point in and of itself. Life is pointless, so do what you want with it and free yourself of any importance that your ego attempts to foist upon you. 
None of it matters. Simply exist.

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