There are times when I love silence, pure silence. It’s a rare commodity these days in our lives (we’ll mine at least) and so sometimes I seek it, indulge in it, and even revere it. But then there are those moments when I’m happiest, surrounded by music.
I love music. There is no better outlet for your creative, daring and wilful soul, than grooving around to a funky tune (especially a newly discovered one), at close to maximum volume.
You know that scene from ‘Jerry Maguire’ where Tom Cruises’ character is having a moment of release in the car, singing (rather badly) at the top of his voice to Tom Petty’s ‘Free Falling’. Yeah, we’ve all been there, and how good does it feel? My only gripe is that there’s never enough leg room in our car to bang that beat out hard enough and I’m just not so keen on whacking it out on the steering wheel. But damn it feels good to let yourself enjoy the music.
I’m pretty sure its primal, cause from my observations of others over the years, be it at a nightclub, a dance class or a concert, rhythm or musicality ain’t strictly necessary, certainly not to enjoy yourself.
Ok, sometimes alcohol may have been a party to ‘the party’, but smashing out a few bars of a song at the top of your voice or busting some snazzy moves on the floor amongst friends and even strangers, is surely the result of powerful forces at play. There is no shortage of studies which tell us the positive benefits of music for our brain and in turn, our mood. But we don’t need to read those studies to know that really.
At the moment, ‘The Wiggles’ get quite a bit of air time in our car and in the house and while there’s no denying it’s a little irritating at times, the boys love having a groove and if I’m honest, I’ve been known to ‘Do the Propeller’ with genuine enthusiasm too.
My eldest was in the car on the way to school the other day, when a latest pop song came on the radio and before I even had a chance to launch myself into the tune, he beat me to it, word for word, head bobbing, eyes closed and all!
I finally got myself along to an adult dance class this week (no, not that kind of dancing). First one for 15 years, so you can imagine the fallout. I used to take Jazz and Ballet classes as a youngster, for fun. The nightclub/ party scene in my 20’s was my outlet for dance, but now in my late 30’s, options and outlets to get my groove on, were thin on the ground.
Hence my need to join an adult Street Dance class. It was awesome! I am seriously unfit, a bit too jiggly in placed to pull some moves and not as fast as I used to be, but the music took me over and kept me in the moment. It was sheer joy and a welcome release to find my body moving in ways I knew it could and wanted, to the music. To hell with what I looked like!
But bloody hell am I paying for it now! It hurts to sit down on the toilet seat, it hurts to get up off the damn toilet seat. I could barely hang the washing out today. I’m embarrassed to admit that reaching for the line above me produced some audible ‘ahhs’ (I’m pretty sure I heard the neighbour close his adjacent window at this point), but small price to pay.
It’s that point of wilful release, where we allow ourselves to let go to the music, that you can feel truly free and happy. For me there is no better natural high… that you can do on your own!
So go on, crank up your latest or greatest fav tune, whether it be on your phone, CD player, portable speaker, car radio, I-Pod (do people still own these….. no seriously?) and allow yourself a moment to just let it all go.