I’m not too advanced with my methods of listening to music. If it’s not the radio in the car, it’s Pandora on the web. And if it’s neither of those, it’s a good old-fashioned CD.
I have a handful of favorites that I haven’t gotten tired of hearing, like OneRepublic’s Waking Up, released in 2009. I can listen to it from beginning to end, some part of each song — whether lyrics or sound — moving me in some way.
I had it going in the car this past weekend, during a lengthy drive. But the point of my post is not that particular CD, it’s what I realized while listening to it.
Life changes. Weekly, monthly, every year.
We go through divorce or say goodbye to loved ones who pass away. We switch careers, watch our kids grow, in size and in maturity. Find new things that make us happy, people who add to the quality of our days. We make tough decisions about our personal lives, decisions that disappoint or excite and that mean better is ahead, and we improve and learn and become more of who we’re supposed to be. We hurt and we celebrate.
But the music, it doesn’t change.
As I drove last weekend, the same music blasting through the speakers as so many times over so many months—and a few years—I realized that’s the magic of music. It’s not just a representation of personal taste, of entertainment, but also of emotion and existence.
The music I listen to, unchanging and powerful, ties my life together, each song a thread through who I was a few years ago into who I am today. It’s all I’ve been through and all I’ve accomplished, plus my potential, bound by music that affects me to my core.
I think that’s beautiful.