Plato said music was too dangerous for the common people — until he got up and danced.
In the heart of Athens, within the prestigious walls of the Academy, the revered philosopher Plato presided over a symposium. His students, eager for the day’s discourse, encircled him, their eyes shining with anticipation. Among these students was Aristonii, a young, spirited scholar with a special love for music. Today, he held a lyre in his hands, the strings shimmering in the Athenian sunlight. Behind him, Xenonsolan, a proficient drummer, and Hypatialoui, an enchanting flutist, stood ready with their instruments.
With the air thick with expectation, Aristoni cleared his throat and spoke, “Master Plato,” he began respectfully, “We have heeded your warnings about music and its potential to infect and mislead the souls of men. Today, however, we humbly argue that not all infections are harmful. Some can usher in joy, unity, and inspiration.”
A bemused, yet intrigued Plato replied, “I am always open to new perspectives, Aristoni. Please proceed with your argument.”
Upon Plato’s consent, Aristoni strummed his lyre, Xenonsolan joined in with his drum, and Hypatialoui added the melody with her flute. Together, they created a lively, upbeat tune that echoed harmoniously throughout the Academy. The students began clapping rhythmically; some even swayed, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.
Plato watched, his usually stern face impassive. Yet, as the music swelled, his foot began to tap involuntarily.
A guitar player plugged in his amp and started wailing on the fret board.
Plato’s eyes widened as his finger drummed rhythmically against the armrest of his chair, and soon, a smile cracked across his face.
Aristoni didn’t miss the change. Over the vibrant music, he called out, “Observe, Master Plato, how this music makes us feel. See how it unifies us in shared rhythm and melody. Let it get into your body. Feel the beat. Tap your feet. Feel the joy and abandon all your cares. Get wild, Master. Get wild! Like Elvis Presley and Elvis Costello had a baby! Get up and dance!”
As Xenonsolan struck his drum, the beat became infectious. Hypatialoui’s flute danced around the rhythm, painting a lively melody that ignited laughter and cheer among the students.
Seizing the moment, Aristoni extended a hand towards Plato, inviting him to join the infectious dance. “Let the music infect you, Master Plato! Do a shot of tequila and let loose, sir! Come on!” he exclaimed encouragingly.
Plato, still smiling, accepted the invitation. Rising from his chair, he started to move to the rhythm. His initial movements were awkward, but his confidence grew with each passing beat.
“You got it, Master! Pretend you are made of jello. Loose! Just let your body flow! You got it, now! Woo hoo, sir!
As Plato began to dance, the students cheered and clapped, their music reaching a lively crescendo.
“Go Plato, go Plato, go Plato…” they chanted.
When the melody finally softened and the rhythmic drumming ceased, Plato stood panting amidst his cheering students. His face held a broad, genuine smile. Catching his breath, he chuckled, “Aristoni, Xenonsolan, Hypatialoui… you have shown me a new perspective today. Like all things, music has its place and value. It can indeed infect us, but as you’ve shown, it’s an infection that can bring joy and unity. I stand corrected.”
“You were the bomb, sir. Wait until next week when the band plays Guns and Roses. You’ll lose your mind!”
“Lose my mind? I don’t think I want to lose my mind. I AM Plato, after all.”
“Lighten up, sir. It’s an expression.”
“Oh, well of course,” Plato laughed. “See you next week, kids!”
With those words, the hall erupted into cheers and claps. The day when music changed Plato’s mind would forever be remembered in the annals of the Academy of Athens.
