What I am about to write may seem too poetic, abstract, or even absurd, but in my defense I will mention that in the Renaissance people described human memory not as a record of events, but as a garden of growing memories. From the point of view of people of the 21st century who are obsessed with computers, this is a mistake, but from a human perspective it seems very lifelike. In this poetics I will “paint” my idea of something that I would personally call a soul, although I may be wrong.
I imagine the soul as a multidimensional carpet that can be limited to a tape/long image for the purposes of imagination. With the passage of time, this tape gets longer and is formulated by experiences (I do not mean a record of memories). Experience is multidimensional and contains all dimensions of sensations, it is wound incoherently on a spool. In my opinion, this whole “reel” is precisely the soul of a person – as if a record of their life path, something that is embedded as an idea in the immaterial, Platonic world. This ball is not written in human language, but in the same language as music is written – it is a kind of struggle between order and chaos – what the soul does and what it should do.
So why are musical pieces composed in connection with the above? A person’s moment, their feelings are a compilation of fragments of this spool – on this basis they build a kind of image of their internal (seemingly external) world. Music is a kind of bridge between these images of themselves with their life and the harmony hidden within themselves, creating the impression of the meaning of life and its order.