49: The Soundtrack of Our Lives

It was a Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago and I was in our kitchen putting together lunches for the week. I decided it would be a good time to check out Taylor Swift’s new release of her one of her old albums. Now, if you don’t happen to keep up with Taylor’s music, a quick side note. She is now an independent music artist and is rereleasing six of her albums that were originally created through her music label. So she now has the rights to her songs and is committed to releasing them again, this time independently. She started this rerelease about a month ago with her album from 2008, Fearless.

One other side note: I don’t know if you can relate to this or not, but when I listen to new music, I basically run it into the ground. I listen to the same one album or playlist over and over and over again for months on end until I know every song like the back of my hand and/or discover a new album worth listening to. And when I’m done listening, I really don’t revisit it, at least not as a whole album or playlist. So, the music I listen to is very much tightly intertwined with that particular time. It becomes the soundtrack of my life for a season.

Back to that Sunday afternoon. As I pressed play on my phone, I was interested to see - or rather, hear - if Taylor had made any significant changes to her songs. I figured she would. I mean, it’s about 13 years later; surely she would have a new perspective leading to a fresh take on old songs. But I was surprised at how familiar the melodies were that filled the kitchen. If I listened closely, there were some subtle differences, but generally speaking, the songs were very much exactly same.

What I also didn’t expect was how odd listening to these songs would make me feel. While the music was certainly familiar, it was also completely foreign to my current context. It didn’t quite fit. I tried singing along because of course I still remember all the words, but I found I had to stop. It was just too bizarre and I was a little bit thrown off, like I was hovering over two places at once and couldn’t quite figure out where to land. 

Because of the way I’ve always listened to music, I literally hadn’t listened to those songs in over a decade. And so much has changed since I last sang along. So needless to say, I kind of froze and wasn’t sure how to listen in my new context. I know it sounds dramatic when I say it out loud, but I had a physical reaction that I can’t quite articulate.

You’ve probably had a similar experience before. And you’re probably well-aware of this because of that experience, but music is deeply tied to memory. You’re driving down the road and a song comes on the radio, transporting you back to the dance floor at your high school prom. You’re sitting in a restaurant and before you know it, it’s your wedding day and you’re walking down the aisle all over again. Or you’re singing a hymn in church and your throat catches because it was your grandpa’s favorite and it stings a little. Music reminds us of people, places, stories, and experiences. Some we’d like to revisit, and others we’d rather not. 

There is also scientific research to back up our experiences with music and memory. You’ve probably heard the stories or seen them depicted in a movie or show, but music often helps recall memory and has been used to treat Alzheimer’s disease for years and years now. Part of the reason is that music memory is stored in a deeper part of the brain that isn’t affected by Alzheimer’s - a different part than where names, places, and facts are stored. 

I recently saw an excerpt from a 2014 documentary called Alive Inside and was moved by the story of a man named Henry. I’ll link to the clip in the show notes if you’d like to check it out. But as a brief overview, in this documentary, a social worker named Dan Cohen was followed for months by a film crew visiting different nursing homes and dementia patients. Henry was one of those patients. He had dementia and spent most of his time in a trance, mostly unresponsive and unengaged with his head drooping low and his body limp.

As Dan Cohen introduced some of Henry’s favorite music into his daily routine, Henry came to life. He would sing and bounce along to the music, and after spending some time listening to it, he was able to engage in conversation and thoughtfully answer questions. He was even able to sing an old Christmas carol he clearly knew by heart. His eyes and expression were full of life. It was like the music woke him up inside. Well-known neurologist, Dr. Oliver Sacks, whose name might ring a bell since his book, Awakenings, became a movie starring Robin Williams, saw this same footage of Henry and had this to say in response:

“In some sense, Henry is restored to himself. He has remembered who he is. And he has reacquired his identity through the power of music.” 

Music helped Henry and continues to help countless dementia patients remember who they are. And what is also interesting is that the research shows there isn’t one particular song or genre of music that touches every patient in the same way; these patients still maintain their unique taste in music. But when the doctors and nurses and family members are able to compile just the right playlist, their loved one comes alive and reacquires their identity. They are restored to themselves.

For me, this provides a beautiful picture of an even bigger truth: we need to remember what makes us come alive. When we are in a funk or out of sorts, that helps us remember who we are. What restores our souls and simply makes us feel like a person. To say it another way, we need to know what keeps us connected to the presence of God, because I’d argue that it’s when we feel God’s presence that we also feel most alive. Most like ourselves. Like the people God created us to be. Similar to the way the music reignited who Henry was deep down, the presence of God helps us come home to ourselves.

And so I wonder what the “music” might be for you. What regular practices remind you of the presence of God and help you remember who you are? Maybe it’s actual music - listening to it or creating it. Maybe it’s spending time outside - sitting on the porch or going for a walk around the neighborhood. Maybe it’s preparing a meal or writing a handwritten note or working in the yard or spending time with your kids. Maybe it’s gathering around a table with friends or arranging fresh flowers or simply going to bed early, enjoying a good night’s rest. The list goes on. As Emily P. Freeman says, 

“Anything can be a spiritual practice if it’s done in the presence of God. It all counts.”

That doesn't mean we replace or neglect classic practices like Scripture study and meditation, worship, fellowship, fasting, or service, just to name a few. And of course, prayer is laced throughout it all. But it does mean that we can trust God to meet us in whatever might be music to our souls, awakening us to who we are in Christ. 

Whatever that music might be for you, it’s important to hold onto it. To prioritize it. To listen to it frequently and let its rhythm remind you over and over and over again of what is true and good. It’s “like continually humming the harmonies of a song so we don’t forget the lyrics,” as I recently heard Emily P. Freeman share.

My hope is that we would learn to recognize the music; that we would begin to awaken to the Spirit at work within us and around us through the soundtrack of our life.  As Psalm 57:7-11 says,

My heart, O God, is steadfast,

    my heart is steadfast;

    I will sing and make music.

Awake, my soul!

    Awake, harp and lyre!

    I will awaken the dawn.

I will praise you, Lord, among the nations;

    I will sing of you among the peoples.

For great is your love, reaching to the heavens;

    your faithfulness reaches to the skies.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;

    let your glory be over all the earth.

Today, if you’re in a funk or feeling out of sorts, remember what gives you life.  Remember what helps you come home to yourself and keeps you connected to the presence of God. As we listen, may the rhythms of our lives jog our memories, reminding us of who God is and of who we are. And may we learn to sing in harmony with the heart of God and the purposes of God’s Kingdom.