Oddments

In search of story

Ears, part 1

2 Comments

Music. As personal a preference as fragrance, color, chili recipes. You like this; I like that. It’s so simple. Except in how the preference is lived. If we could just honor each other’s preferences, how much calmer life would be.

If I have to listen to your music, I become agitated, depressed, paranoid, homicidal. MAKE IT STOP, sobs my brain. No, that’s wrong: it’s my spirit sobbing. Music speaks to our spirits. That’s why you love your music and I love mine. And sometimes the twain cannot meet.

I do not insist that you listen to my music, so why do you insist that I listen to yours? Well, no, dear reader, not you, of course, but the world in general.

I love various kinds of music, none of which includes popular singing, which causes my entire brain to writhe in empathetic agony. To me, most performers sound racked, strangled, not because of pathos in the music but because of the strain in their voices. They sound like my smoke alarms. Yet these contorted voices are enjoyed by others. I don’t understand that but I don’t have to. As long as I don’t have to listen to them, I am magnanimously enthusiastic about the pleasure they afford others.

We react to music. Not just with toe-tapping or head-banging, but with something deep inside. Music reaches into us while something inside us reaches out to it. That is not insignificant.

So what’s your point, Maureen? My point is we should respect each other’s ears because in so doing we respect each other’s spirits.

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2 thoughts on “Ears, part 1

  1. I agree that music is such a personal thing. Familiar notes can immediately transport me back to when I first heard them, good and bad. Nowadays, popular music can leave me bewildered, and the louder it is, the crazier it makes me. When I was young, however, it was a whole other story. The question is, was the music better or just mine?

  2. There’s the question about so many things, I think: “better or just mine?” And so true about young ears, which do make a difference.

    Bewildered and crazier. Oh, yes.

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