Music and Memory

We sat in the building together to say goodbye. The minister spoke a few words and then invited Philip to come to the front to share. 

Philip talked about music and the importance it had in Clif's life. Everyone there thought of Clif and music. Philip talked about his last jam session with Clif. Philip was calm and funny and eloquent. Then he said he was going to play a medley of some of Clif's favorites, and for all us to sit and think about music and Clif.

The strains of the piano wafted through to us. At first I didn't recognize the music, but then I understood he was playing Beatles' music in a slow, soothing way. And I felt Clif's presence. Through all the words and comments I had known they were talking about Clif and his absence, but it was the sound of those notes -- the knowing it was Philip playing them -- that brought me to tears. Good tears. Releasing tears. A soothing, gentle goodbye to a man who died too soon. 

Music expresses things words will never achieve. It reaches us in places and ways that nothing else can or ever will. 

When Philip came back to the sanctuary it was evident he had broken down while playing. The connection the music was/is to his brother was impossible to miss. But it was a gift to those of us listening, and I believe it was a boon for Philip as well.

Goodbye, Clif. And thank you for the music!

So I say

Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing

Thanks for all the joy they're bringing

Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty

What would life be?

Without a song or a dance what are we?

So I say thank you for the music

For giving it to me

(Thank You for the Music, Abba)

linking up with Just Write

Convertibles and iPods

I drive a Fiat 500c (convertible). It is the most freeing and fun car I have ever owned. 

Recently I reorganized the music on my iPod and I've been tooling around town listening to my incredibly eclectic blend of music. I have everything mixed up together on it -- David Bowie, LeeAnn Rimes, Mama Mia, K-Pax, Bill Withers, blink 182, Melissa Manchester, Johnny Mathis -- anyway you get the idea.

Tuesday was perfect convertible weather -- sunny and 74 with a lovely breeze. I found myself smiling while tooling around on errands. Singing at the top of my lungs along with Pink and Christina Aguilera.

I used to provide a soundtrack for my life. Singing and listening to music were part of everyday. Over time those have diminished. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just another one of those self-care things that got lost in the shuffle.

For some reason the convertible brings back that need for a soundtrack. Maybe it's the wind blowing through my hair, or the realization that no one can hear me singing -- not even me. So if I miss a note there's no one to care. Whatever the reason, I know that few things make me as happy as riding around town with the top down. My wild and crazy hair going everywhere, and music playing a top volume.

There are worse ways to spend my time.


linking up with Just Write

What's on Your iPod?

What's on my iPod . . . 

Well I'm an inconsistent iPod user, and I don't really navigate iTunes all that well, but currently here's a snapshot of what's on there --

Glen Campbell

Michael Buble

Melissa Manchester

Mama Mia!

Bruce Hornsby and the Range

Dan Fogelberg

linking up with the 31 day blog challenge

Red Writing Hood: Shall We Dance?

She scans her iPod for the song. She needs to feel the passion that the song evokes in her being. Passion for the touch of another person. The need to feel warmth and desire and love only come occasionally for her, and the risk of actually seeking it out from another human being is too great. But the music, that song, triggers all the longing, passion, and desire that she wants so badly.

The opening strains of the song give her goose bumps all up and down her arms. Her body begins to sway and warm as she is transported to another place and time. A place where safety is not an issue; a place where it is okay to relax and feel and open to the music and the sensations. 

The pace and tempo of the music begin to increase and her heart rate rises with it. Passion – to feel such passion from music is amazing. If only she could transport these feelings to share with him. Why can she abandon herself to the music, but not to him? 

The strength of the male character is equaled by the strength of the woman. She’s never experienced that. She’s always been the weaker one; the lesser one; the conquered. The music tells her it doesn’t have to be that way. Passion could be equally strong for each of them. What would it be like to experience that?

The music crescendos toward its final notes. She pictures herself in his embrace with a sense of anticipation and exhilaration. She wants this to be her reality, not just her dream. But how to trust enough to make it happen? What will be required of her that will allow her to experience such abandon? 

As the music fades away, so does her hope. It’s a fantasy to imagine that she could be with someone else and feel those things. The only feelings she has with another person are terror and self-loathing. The music is not reality, at least not hers. Music is just a fantasy for people like her.

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