It amuses me

to go back to my Blogger blog and read the posts I deemed worthy of saving. Quite frankly some of them are damn fine writing. What amuses me is that I have been talking about the same things for 20 years – way to be boring Grace. Or is it that some topics just interest me, lots of posts about words and language and usage.  Posts written while I lived in Philadelphia are truly snarky, and funny. Oh, how I hated Filthadelphia!

I’ve been writing about, and sharing, a lot of music in the last week or so, a meander through those old posts shows this is not a new thing for me. I particularly like this one –

Wednesday, October 15, 2008
MUSIC IS MAGIC

People say “Stop and smell the roses”; I say “Stop and listen to the music” but don’t really stop because if there is music then there is movement, there is dance.

Music is everywhere, all the time. You just have to listen. Okay, there is the obvious music – leaves rustling, birds, squirrels chattering; and the sound of the wind. Some of you may hear the music of traffic – different cars make different sounds, even the rhythm of a line of cars going over a speed bump. The cacophony of honking horns, some with high notes, some with low added to the revving of motors – the varoom, varoom and the bleat, bleat – can you feel the beat?

And the magic? I’m always playing music in my head – it’s not imaginary music, it’s real – I hear it, and dance to it. Did you ever watch people walking on a busy street – they are all walking in different rhythms, and don’t you add the melody to the beat – in your head? If you are part of that crowd, don’t you pick up the rhythm and walk along to it: sharing the music, sharing the rhythm. There’s magic in that. In that moment in time you, and all those other people, are communicating, sending, back and forth, calling out to each other, call and response. It’s magic.

I love the music of the city. There’s a church nearby whose bells toll each hour; the Mr. Frosty truck that comes by each afternoon, the sound right this minute of a car going by outside the house – first a low swoosh that crescendos and fades; loud trucks, soft cars; some take longer to fade, and I sway to the swoosh.

People remind me of songs – That song and that person will forever be connected in my mind. Some times it’s their song I hear. The song that is THEM; that is their heart beat, their life force dancing through their body and brain.

We are music. The first sounds we hear are music – the beating of our mother’s heart; of our own. The low notes – we hear them first. Warm, dark, comforting. Rhythm – babies love the rhythm – rock them and they are soothed; swing them gently back and forth; our earliest memories, our first memories, are musical – rhythm and melody. The beat of the heart, the melody of the movement of the fluid we float in…our first memories. We share these memories, tho different rhythms and different melodies, and sing out to each other – hear me, hear my music.

Listen – the world is never silent, nor are we. Clear your mind and then listen – can you hear your song? Can you hear mine?

22 thoughts on “It amuses me

  1. What strikes me most about the October 2008 post is that it was four days after my wedding! And music was such a huge part of it. My SIL is a DJ and she knocked it out of the park. We have two very cliche songs that we claim as “ours”, the first is Lost in this Moment by Big and Rich, but it wasn’t our wedding song because I felt like a copycat since friends had it as theirs a few months prior. So our wedding song was Me and You by Kenney Chesney. We gave CDs of love songs that described our relationship as favors. I have always enjoyed your insights into music and how you find obscure songs I never heard of and enjoy discovering. Much like your writing you have a penchant for finding a connection to so many of us, probably without even realizing it. Don’t stop!

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    1. Oh my goodness, so funny. G’s daughter got married in June of 2008. G an I made cd’s of songs that they chose, I did the cover/insert design, and they gave them out as wedding favors. G was the DJ for their wedding. We did the same for G’s sister and brother-in-laws 50th wedding anniversary party, which G DJ’d. I don’t mind saying the cover/insert design I did for those cds was quite good. And did you know G had a side gig for years, when he lived in the Northeast Kingdom,as a DJ? He started with records, then tapes. He worked weddings,parties, and what passed for clubs up there. Also ‘dances’ – the Sugar House threw 2 big dances a year and G was always hired as the DJ – one year there was another such event, live music by some semi-well known local group the same night as the Sugar House event and halfway through the evening people left the other place and came piling into the Sugar House because G was generating more fun! (BTW – The Sugar House WAS a sugar house – they tapped their sugar maples, then processed and bottled maple syrup there. Huge barn of a place, smelled good tho!)

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  2. There is music in your words. The rhythm of each sentence flows smoothly into the next.
    For me there is never total silence. The disadvantage of tinnitus. But I suppose it could be considered music. Too bad it only knows one note.

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    1. Thank you for your kind words. I expect tinnitus could drive one, if not quietly mad, then monotonously mad. The hearing aids didn’t help that? Or do they just make it more clear?

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  3. I dived into some of your posts from mid-2000’s and quite enjoyed them. You are correct, you’re a fantastic writer, very talented. As I said before, I am trying to blog less while eating so I suspect I will be reading your whole back catalogue instead over the next week. I require just that to get a meal down – something involved and interesting. Your older writings for the bill. So thanks for sharing that link the other day.

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    1. Oh now, not a fantastic writer but occasionally a damn good one, I have a SMALL talent with words. I always wondered that B&E might slow down your eating, hard to eat when typing. I’m glad you are enjoying them.

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      1. It’s possible that it does slow things down. It’s definitely a safety behavior. I didn’t have much to say, so in fact for the last half of the meal I visited your old blog again.

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        1. It’s hereditary, runs through the maternal line. Ah, so you read about the flower lady…I’d have to look myself but I think I wrote about Sharon’s mother – I hope I saved that one – further back I think…

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          1. Yep, I will be reading every entry on there. First you made me hungry with the italian food. Then you helped me eat with your writing. Clearly I was meant to run across your blog 😆

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            1. That made me inexplicably happy. Sorry about the posts that originally had images, I deleted images I had in Google images not realizing that would delete them from the posts, silly me.

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              1. I have good news- thus far, one really cannot tell which posts had images. No formatting glitches or anything. I assume you must mean that at some point I will encounter text that refers to a missing picture? Haven’t got there yet, but if that’s the case thank you for the warning since that may have been confusing. I would probably have assumed it was the fault of my budget android 😁

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                1. Or an “x’ or something where the image had been…if you come across wonky image-related stuff, it’s not you or your device, it was me and my love of the delete button!

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      1. I wonder if wordpress has a built in autocorrect. I have been wondering for a while whether it’s a phone thing or a wordpress thing. But I have always been far too lazy to investigate. Or more accurately there is always something better to do. So I just mess up and then do another comment to correct what I said, ha.

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  4. I honestly rarely if ever look back at my old blogs (I’ve been blogging in one form or another since 2002). Maybe I should.

    I love this post. This post is very lyrical and the topic really resonates with your writing style.

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    1. Why thank you, that is very kind of you to say. The old posts, or should I say, previous posts, are my history, my life. It’s nice to be able to look back, see where I’ve been, after all I have more past than future.

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