Once, in another life, a very long time ago, I was born again. And I was baptised, in a swimming pool at a Drakensberg resort. As you do… but here’s the strange thing. As I came up out of the water, I suddenly had music in my head. And music has never left me, in the (hmmm what is it… this happened in ’73 – ) 38 years since that happened. It’s true – I wake up with the song of the night, whatever it was, in my head, ready to greet me… have to say I really enjoy it. It’s great! It’s not intrusive and of course if I put on other music, it doesn’t keep playing. (Okay I have to say, I’m beginning to sound a bit weird even to myself.) It’s like changing to another track if you will. I regard the headmusic as virtual music, and sound-wave music as normal music. Okay, we’re all on the same page now? Oh and if you read my blog from some time ago about seeing music, yes, I do see the mental music as well, but it’s paler, more translucent.
This may seem a very complicated way to live but – on a sunny day, are you always aware of the sunlight, of the sounds of the traffic, passing voices? No. This is the same. It’s there, if I want to hear and see it, but if not, it fades into the background. Only on two occasions did I wake up with a silent mind, and one of these was when my mother was dying; the other was equally stressful. Fortunately the music came back later in the day, but I was very uncomfortable with such deep and profound silence in my head. It felt almost as if I’d gone deaf on some level.
It’s like having my own virtual ipod, and it’s free. The sound quality can do with some adjusting, as can the volume. I’d sometimes like it to be overwhelming, as in that wall of sound you get in some clubs, when it comes at you and hits you in the solar plexus and it’s clearly vaaaaaaaaairy bad for you. But it stays sotto voce. It’s hardly ever religious music either, it can be anything. At the moment (now that I care to listen) it’s a track from a Taize CD my sister lent me long ago.
5FM likes to call itself ‘The Soundtrack of your Life.’ But this is what I have going on all the time. Except that there aren’t any ads, thank God. Writing this makes me feel a bit anxious in case you think I’m nuts. But it’s a happy kind of nuts, so think away. There’s a T-shirt I saw once, which said ‘You’re just jealous ’cause the voices don’t speak to you…’ Yeah, right…
I don’t think that’s the case, in that I don’t think it’s a lesser branch of schizophrenia – hell it may be, but I don’t think about it much, I’m just grateful this mysterious thing happened. I enjoy my portable music a lot, but what’s also interesting is that the impartial observer who is present in all our minds, i.e. the Higher Self to some, takes note of what’s going on for me in the current moment. Anxiety about someone I cared for, and the fear of loss, first became apparent when I noticed the song in my head – there was Freddy Mercury, singing ‘Love of my Life, don’t leave me…’
It didn’t make it any easier – if anything, it added to the soap opera quality of the moment, which isn’t cool, because then sentimentality becomes engaged and the tears come and after that it’s all downhill unless you can think of something very pleasant or very funny very quickly. But it is an indicator of what’s actually going on in one’s own head. And the creative links and leaps can become quite witty.
I’m not talking about ear-worms now – that’s a related thing but it’s different and it’s intermittent. An earworm is that dreadful song you can’t get out of your head. As a public service I offer you a solution – ‘play’ Brown Girl in the Ring – ‘Sha na na na na – brown girl in the ring, Sha —nanananana – Brown Girl in the ring, sha na na na na – she looks like a sugar and a plum – plum-plum!’ And there you go…the ear worm is no more. Don’t try to recall it, it may come back! Problem over, except that you now have a new ear-worm. I’m not sure what you do about her, but — hey one problem at a time, okay?
Going back to why or how this ongoing portable music in my head happened – I don’t know. It’s enough for me that my spirit has been singing to me ever since. Even though my spiritual beliefs have changed vastly, the music is still with me.
So – to the Great Mystery – ‘Thank You for the Music, the Song You’re Singing…’