Full.

So if you're curious, this is what I was ranting and raving about from yesterday's BYU Jazz Voices concert. (The sound isn't very good and I don't know why they only film that one girl, but you'll get the idea and HOLY CRAP it was incredible.)

I sat with my mouth unhinged, paralyzed, and the chills would not stop.

I want to do that for the rest of my life-sing and listen to and direct and write songs that do that to people, that is.

I try not to be a music geek, talking about music all the time and thinking about music all the time and being like, "Music is my life blah blah!" all the time-but, confession: I am a music geek. To the core. I've been doing a lot of things lately in owning up to who I really am-and music is such an incredibly basic part of my makeup, like water and oxygen, and I don't care if that's cheesy or far-fetched, music is entertwined and weaved and stitched in me so deeply that it can't be separated from the intangible qualities of Brooke Beecher and I've got to shout about it!!

Nothing else in the world makes me feel as much. It's not just happy or sad-it's the depth that music adds to my existence that I can't ignore.

The ancient Greeks thought of music as its own distinct intelligence, to be weighted as equally as math or science in schools. Everyone has musical ability-we just don't develop it. Musicality can be learned.

But God gives gifts. Inclinations, powers, aptitudes, and abilities. Yeah, He gave me music-I can sing. But moreso, I think, He gave me the love of music. The endless adoration that makes me want nothing at all but to have those chills thrill me for every minute of my small, insignificant life.

Music fills me.