The Music of Memories

In a recent blog posting by a fellow traveler, she put forth thoughts of what she “liked”. I liked the following bit very much. It’s a bit funny to me, ‘cause I was just thinking about that very thing a few days earlier, although in prose not quite as elegant.

“I like music that rifles through memories, unwrapping them from tissue and time, shaking them out, holding them at arms length, turning them slowly so you can see them in this time's light.”

Music is such a funny thing. That it can elicit such strong emotions and deep feelings is even more amazing. I mean you can’t even put handles on what you hear, can’t grasp it, wrestle with it or converse with it.

Yet….

It remains one of the most powerful forces on this earth.

It does the following:

…it stirs the depths of soul and creates yearning for the past and future, all at the same time.
…it creates palettes of tangible mind-color, allowing me to create masterpieces of cobbled-together memories, both brilliant and luxuriant in the good and ever darker pieces of remembered trial and travail in the less good.
…it grants access to visceral responses, long forgotten, yet stopping my heart and breath, just like the first time. Cold chills, lingered kisses, embarrassed responses.

I, being a lover of most things music (Rap and country excluded), have such a library of remembered thoughts attached to music in general and songs in particular that I find it almost impossible to listen to anything and not connect the dots to a very pervasive memory. Here are a few of the dots of what I mean:

When listening to either “The Vendor” by Ricardo Silveria or “Dragonfly Summer” by Michael Franks, I always think of my wife, sitting next to me at Gray’s Hotel in Manitou Springs, Colorado. The windows are open, breeze gently blowing the sheer curtains, the scent of rain, heavy. I can see the Rockies out the window and am slightly chilled by the whisper on the air. I am content and at peace, my heart full of love for my wife, the moment and the music. Indelibility etched on the fabric of my mind, the first sounds of the guitar take me there instantly.

I return to High School on the paths of Journey, especially the Escape album. I remember the feeling of promise for the future, the unknown vast and daunting. It feels familiar and safe. I know every riff of the guitar, clang of cymbal, thump of bass, wail of the vocals. I remember skipping school and standing in line for 8 hours to get Journey tickets. I remember selling them because the girl I was with didn’t want to go. Feelings of regret and loss, misspent youth. Time and event never to be repeated or regained.

I savor the music of Keith Green and Bob Bennett, Christian artists both. The wave of First Love for my Saviour rises and falls to the rhythms, rhymes and harmonies. “How Can They Live Without Jesus” by Keith Green has never, ever failed to move heart, even in my darkest moments. I can still sense the loss I felt when I first heard of Keith’s death. I never met him but felt like I knew him and I deeply grieved. He has so touched and shaped my life. I will see him one day. If I had a dime for everytime I played one of Bob’s songs I would be a rich man. Freshness and beauty, majesty and mystery always rise during a playing of “Mountain Cathedrals” or “Altar in the Field.” What an amazing songwriter and talented musician!

Tears of joy almost always spring forth when “Lifesong” by MercyMe is heard. I recall the hotel room I was in when my life began anew, after years of being A Wandering Traveler on the wide road that leads to destruction. Faithful prayers and family members, we never travel the path of Salvation alone. Guides, seen and unseen, line the path and light the way.

There are some people I will never, ever, tire of listening to: Pat Matheny, The Rippingtons, Bob Bennett, Michael Franks, Acoustic Alchemy, Duncan Sheik. The list goes on and on. I could listen to my ever-present iPod to infinity and still have memories to nourish my heart and soul with.

As my heart becomes more in-tune with the Master Musician, the strings of my heart, soul and body become more intertwined and easier to play. I believe that I am changing from being an electric with durable, steel strings to a classical with supple, nylon strings. Structured prayers, ancient hymns and lilting voices in unison draw me closer to the Maker. I become one with those around me, offering my all and my voice in supplication and thanksgiving, worshiping at the feet of Three in One who sings the life-giving hymn.

Hoping my “Lifesong” sings to Him.

Traveler