I hear music in my head, music that nobody else can hear. It’s like I’m listening with headphones, only without the headphones. I realize that this is pretty much the definition of schizophrenia, but whatever.
Here is how it happens: I’ll be lying in bed, about to drop off, and suddenly there it is: tune, harmony and lyric. This is especially common on those nights after I have discovered or re-discovered some bit of wonder and it’s gotten under my skin. When a song (new or old) hits that nerve of recognition within me—strikes a chord, if you will—I will listen to it over and over and over. And over. (By the way: I may be schizo, but I’m not OCD. Or paranoid, either, so stop thinking that. Also, just for the record: I only hear one song at a time.) (Also 2: Even though it sounds like I am, I’m not really talking about an earworm. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Earworm)
A song that is true has a power that enters my veins like an infusion. And once it’s in there, it’s free to go where it will, flowing around in my blood and my subtle body and my psyche. Once it’s in there, it’s in there.
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can?
Well, whoever it was, I’m a fan (ABBA)
Music is the truest companion I have ever known. I can always count on (certain) songs to keep me company, keep me sane, give me understanding, reassure me I am not alone. I have actually received different gifts from the same song on different days.
Over a lifetime, listening carefully to songs (and their tunes and lyrics and instrumental bridges and rhythms and bass lines) has taught me many things. 1. Nobody else can make me happy. 2. Nobody else can make me unhappy. 3. What I am feeling, others have felt. 4. You can’t hurry love. 5. The thing you might be running from is so small, but it’s as big as the promise…the promise of a coming day. 6. And then some.
The songs you love and that love you back are always there for you. Unlike other human beings, who are fighting their own hard fight just like you are. Your songs–the songs that choose you– will never tell you to get a grip, or grow up, or to hide your light under a bushel. At the same time, they are a good enough friend that they might tell you to get over it, because sometimes you need to hear that, too.