Music For The Junk

I love this phrase; Being minimal-ish.

Being minimal-ish is about as far as I can take it; Space around the edges, maybe even a little in the center. I believe there will always be a stash of junk here and there. Life is full of junk. Inside and out.

Kind of like my brain and its inside junk—that’s where music works for me. I use it to calm angst away, to beat away overflowing static energy, or blow cobwebs away. I use it to fall asleep, to meditate, or to create, and I especially use it if my heart is feeling shattered.

I’ll use it when silence is more than I can handle.

The other day, when the brain would not shift into its happy place, I grabbed headphones, CD and put myself into another time-out. The CD, an old favorite, Chakra Delight by Binky Kok never fails to lift the mind out of its outhouse and wash the crap away. Singing bowls and chimes—sounds that reach deep and soothe. I walked out of the bedroom feeling centered, having gonged the miserable beast into non-existence.

Most times, I prefer music without voices. The music is the voice.

However, then there are times when I need to sing and since my voice sounds like a duke-out between a blue jay and the neighborhood tomcat, I do like millions of others and sing in the car with the widows up. Crank up the radio and let loose. Really let loose and it feels so good. So very good.

The thing I don’t get about car singing is how painful it looks. I guess it’s like most therapeutic sessions—there is strain involved. Don’t believe me? The next time you’re belting one out, take a look in the rear view mirror. It’s like watching a runner run—and straining what shouldn’t be strained.

Hey, maybe it’s the junk working its way out . . .

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3 Comments »

  1. Music has been my religion all my life.

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  2. Powerful thoughts, Cathie. My mother died of breast cancer — after a mastectomy. At the time of her illness, my father was sick with dementia and lung cancer, so no support for her there. Conventional treatment adds to the torture that the great majority of breast-cancer sufferers must endure. The best and often only cure is to take every possible step to avoid the damn disease in the first place.

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    • Oh Maggie – that is a sad history to own. I believe trying to avoid ‘the damn disease’ nowadays is kind of like trying stepping out in the rain and trying to avoid raindrops. So many possible, and probable, causes of health problems coming at us from directions we may not even realize until it’s too late.

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