Music is the Air I Breathe.

Well now.

It doesn’t seem to get any easier, does it? Car bombs, election platforms, shootings at the Toronto airport, and insanity south of our border. Our hearts and psyches are taking a real beating. Kinda feels like a rug burn on the soul.

I was listening to the CBC yesterday while driving, but I finally gave up in horror and changed the channel. I have no real recollection of what channel I managed to punch in, but suddenly, I was hearing Stevie Wonder singing “My Cherie Amour”.

And I had to pull over.

Why pull over, you might ask? Because in the blink of an eye, I was transported back to my childhood. I was 8 years old, lying on my back at the enormous White Sands pool in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and that song was playing over the loudspeakers. I was trying to float, quite unsuccessfully. (I later learned that because of my structure and lack of appreciable body fat, I am unable to float. I must have looked hilarious as I kept sinking!) But my swimming instructor was optimistic that with enough air in my lungs and by pushing my chest up in the water, I could float enough to pass whatever swimming level I was struggling in.

It was never going to happen.

But Stevie Wonder’s song made me think of the sand, the water, the sunshine pouring down on my little body vainly flutter kicking but having the greatest time trying. I clearly remember thinking that my swimming bottoms were going to filled with sand because I kept bouncing off the bottom, but I also remember not caring at all…and singing along to the song while I sunk!

Music. What a gift.

In Oliver Sacks book “Musicophelia”, he talks about the power of music:

Music can move us to the heights or depths of emotion. It can persuade us to buy something or remind us of our first date. It can lift us out of depression when nothing else can. It can get us dancing to its beat.

For me, music is the air I breathe.

I have music playing in my house all the time. I forget sometimes that not everyone is comfortable with the constant sound coming from my speakers. But I love it.  And so many songs or tunes take me back somewhere wonderful, just like Steve Wonder’s song did.

When I hear Mairi Rankin’s tune “Jig to Reel” I swear my heart starts to dance in my chest and my feet move of their own volition. When I hear Charlie Mingus’ “Moanin’”, and the incredible baritone sax riffs, I remember when Rory was in high school. His jazz band played it, and the entire audience was brought to their feet by Anthony Rinaldi’s sax prowess. Or when I hear Pat Metheny’s Last Train Home that my favourite radio station, Jazz FM plays with some regularity. I can keep doing whatever I am doing and listen, while both my heart rate and my breathing slows down.

Music gives me energy and joy when I need it and can alter my mood before I am even aware.

Tania Miller, a Canadian conductor, explains that it can help us achieve the opposites of what we really feel — when we’re nervous, it can calm us. When we’re tired, it can invigorate us, when we are disconnected it can inspire us once again. It is structural and almost architectural – so when you are listening to it, your brain must concentrate on understanding its rhythms and patterns. Perhaps that is why our brains are quick to focus on it and equally quick to forget that which might be making us nervous, agitated or anxious.

Because our mind so easily remembers the pattern of a melody, this memory resides strongly with us – so it takes but a moment for me to be back in that swimming pool, sandy bum and all, and happiness in my heart.

I challenge you right here, right now - think of a piece of music or simply a song that takes you back to a special moment - I mean, other than Happy Birthday or Oh Canada! What piece of music can shut out all the chaos and allow you to banish all your cares and woes and whatevers while you listen? What tune curls the corners of your mouth or brings back a recollection so powerful that you forget the present and slide into that memory?

The final tune I can share that stops me dead in my tracks is Alison Krauss’ rendition of “Down to the River to Pray”.

As a family, we went to the Own Sound Summerfolk Festival for many years. I remember one night when I had taken Rory and Jaime back to the motel to go to sleep. Rory crawled into his bed, but Jaime wanted me to lie down with her and sing her to sleep. We had recently seen the movie “Oh Brother Where Art Thou” and that was her song of choice. So, I sang it and the two of them hummed along. And when I was done, and I was kissing Jaime on the forehead, Rory pipes up and says “Just once more, Mom. Once more”. So I did.

When I hear that song now, I think of the love I have for my two children, grown that they are now and living their own lives. And I am grateful that music can fill my heart with memories that bring me such joy.