When songs become old friends.

When songs have become old friends, we hear them with our entire being. At 70 now, my go-to songs and artists still strike cords comfortable, and not. I've always suspected we take each and all stages to the next, and the influences accumulate into the moment we are now. The boy hasn't gone anywhere, the old man is present and more tolerant, the middle-age man recalls the mistakes and lucky blessings. Death is behind my left shoulder, always, and waits in silence, but that's cool. The early music like Santana, so many more, it has all become the music of my spiritual vault, where I return for a refill when my hope is lowest, and the old songs never fail to reconnect me to...what? I don't exactly know, but it's essential for healing, and going on again. These artists still playing and performing, some older than I, and each of us with a unique list of our favorites, they've collectively helped me keep my thoughts where they best flourish: not to the dust of the past, nor to the nervous future, but instead to the eternal and immortal, like the music, forever relevant.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Circle

Everywhere

Angels above, below