It cuts both ways, you know, that double-edged sword. I used to wonder what that meant, long before I realized that my wonderings would be answered with experiences to demonstrate. I try not to wonder too much about things any more. Experience is a hard teacher.
My double-edged sword is music. Without it, life doesn’t really seem worth living. I don’t surround myself with noise all day and night. I don’t need to. I have a soundtrack in my head that supplies background music when there is none to listen to. I love music. It moves me.
There’s the rub. While most of the time it is uplifting, making my soul soar to ecstatic heights, the reverse is also true. When I hear a song that reminds me of the past, of the things and people and pets I’ve lost, or is haunting and plaintive, I can get lost in the grief that I’ve buried over the years. It’s usually therapeutic, but it’s always painful. So much pain buried so deep, dredged up in an instant.
Sometimes it’s so bad that I have to stop what I’m doing and just cry for a bit to regain control. I need to keep control of things in my life. There are so few things I actually have control over. I’ve gone down the road of having emotions running amok… it isn’t pretty, so I work at staying emotionally stable. I generally don’t listen to the radio while driving for this reason. It doesn’t happen often that I lose control like that, but I find it easier to drive with silence… sorta. I have wonderful conversations in my head with strange and diverse people on deep subjects while I drive, but I digress.
Lately I am haunted by a couple of songs. Anthony Head just released a new album called “Staring at the Sun.” You know, the guy who played Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Remember him singing “Behind Blue Eyes” in, what was it, season 4? He has a sweet haunting type of voice, perfectly suited for soft blues and romantic ballads.
Being a bit of a fan, I bought it as soon as it was available. I have been a wreck ever since. It seems as though every song tugs at my heart in ways I had forgotten was possible. I’m not saying I’m sorry I bought it, I love the songs, but I end up in tears when I play it. And play it I do. I’m not even playing my silly little online games (my slogs, as I affectionately call them) anymore.
Whenever I sit down to do something on the computer, my fingers seem to direct the cursor to the iTunes icon and open it, always to Staring at the Sun. I listen, I forget what else there was to do, lost in the music. When the last song is finished, I listen to it again. Powerful stuff there. Suddenly it’s time to go to work (or 3a.m. and time to sleep, or time to do my household chores before going to work). Before too long I’ll have heard it enough that it will be a part of my internal soundtrack. Then I’ll get back to normal. Until then, well, what can I say?
I’ll be back, I promise. This won’t last forever. But if you’re wondering where I got off to, now you know. I’m lost. Lost in memories. Lost in nostalgia. Lost in my pain and grief. Lost in healing.