Maybe we’ve been played too hard or have been abused by a hand that once moved gently but has since turned harsh. Or maybe the maestro has passed, leaving only the coldness of ivory as we long for his passionate touch to dance over us again.
Regardless, even being slightly out-of-focus or mildly out-of-tune is enough to make us mute our melody, because we hear the false perfection of the other piano keys dancing and bouncing rhythmically. We judge ourselves in the light of their song.
While our song sounds sad . . . always.
What if we embraced our dissonant sound? What if we turned up the volume of what we perceive as imperfect?
Our song is valuable and the dissonant key resonates regardless of judgment. Be differently beautiful . . . be your own song.