Weekend Story - The Music That Breathes: Finding the Tune Within

Bach: Air on the G String (orchestra Suite No.3)

Have you ever had a piece of music, a song or a tune, that has stayed with you through the years, surfacing in moments of both joy and grief? Something that feels like the background score of your life, a kind of leitmotif that returns when words fall short?

For me, that piece is Bach’s Air on the G String.

For want of a newer topic, I decided to feature it in this Weekend Story. When you listen closely, you’ll notice it has no grand gestures, no dramatic peaks; its beauty lies in an unbroken, flowing line. Bach takes a simple melodic phrase and lets it breathe, with long, sustained notes supported by the gentlest harmonic movement beneath. There is space between the notes, and this space is as important as the notes themselves, much like the pauses between our thoughts in a quiet mind.

The music never tries to impress. Instead, it invites you to settle. The tempo is unhurried, as if the music already knows it has nowhere to go, nothing to prove. That lack of striving gives it a rare sense of contentment. It doesn’t lean forward or push toward resolution; it simply is, and in being, it feels complete.

It feels, at times, like a reflection of an inner state — a mind that has moved beyond restlessness. Its serenity isn’t about shutting out disturbance, but about being untouched by it. The steady harmony below is like the quiet ground we stand on, while the melody drifts freely above — anchored yet unbound. The calm that emerges feels lived-in, as if it has always been there, waiting to be heard.

Was this serenity Bach’s intention? With Bach, as with many great composers, the music is abstract; it doesn’t prescribe emotion. Yet across centuries, listeners have felt peace, tenderness, and quiet transcendence in this piece. Perhaps these qualities were not consciously planned, but they are undeniably present in the way his music moves and breathes.

And maybe that’s the quiet miracle of great art: it reveals truths that even the artist might not have named. Each listener completes the circle, finding, in the same set of notes, a reflection of their own stillness.

Over the years, this theme has found its way into many corners of my life. During my working years, I would often get involved in organising social events and whenever there was a play, a farewell, or any event that needed a background score, this was the first melody that came to mind. It seemed to play quietly in the background, waiting for the slightest prompt to find expression, like an old, trusted companion who understands the mood before words are spoken.

The Weekend Stories have, in a way, opened a side of me I always knew existed but had never paused to examine or understand. And in these quiet reflections, I think I’ve discovered why this musical movement has remained my signature tune. Perhaps it’s the space between the notes that gives a sense of rootedness, or the quiet contentment that flows through it. Whatever it is, it holds up a mirror to something genuine within me, helping me know myself a little better.

I believe each of us has such a leitmotif, something that defines us, that echoes who we are. Finding it is an act of kindness toward oneself, a way of respecting one’s own depth. It’s like dusting the corners of the mind and discovering a melody, a tune, a poem, or a line, that quietly reveals a hidden dimension within.

Perhaps it’s a part of you that got tucked away in the rush of working life, a facet that now waits patiently to be rediscovered. Bringing it to light can open a quiet richness within, a sense of wholeness that makes you love yourself, and life, a little more. So maybe this weekend, pause and listen for that theme within you, the one that has always been playing softly in the background, waiting for you to hear it.