I recently tripped and fell into yet another music rut.

They happen about three times a year for me. Some stumbles are more of a doozy than others, but I eventually find my way back to solid footing.

My current rut was one that I wasn’t really aware I was in. But I was the recent recipient of some new music, so I patiently listened to the whole album all the way through.

Long about the eighth song, I realized that I was, in fact, in more of a music rut than I initially had thought, and that the song I was listening to was the equivalent of a baby speaking its first words.

Or a bird singing a few melodic notes for the first time.

It was like finding a voice inside me that I didn’t know existed, and the song was the monologue that voice had been trying to speak for a long time.

When you find a way of expressing that which seems fleeting, nebulous and indescribable, something magical happens.

New music can be like a compass for our myriad emotions which often times leave us wondering how we truly feel about something.

It refocuses our thoughts and energy, and with each swell of the music, we receive more and more clarity. That clarity is not unlike a new language — a new batch of words that you sensed was there, but never really were able to dust off quite enough.

Tonight I am thankful for finding new music, and for finding a new language that made sense out of everything that had been tumbling around in my head and heart. To some they may only be notes on a page of sheet music, but to others, those notes can sometimes unlock the door to a room you suspected existed, but never had proof of.