Music is a healer

Something I drew to put my feelings when I am healed by music, into something visual. The positive energy comes from the vinyl, up through the gramophone, into the air waves, and right through your body ❤

I can remember the first time that music truly healed me.

The sun had just risen and was shining bright across the almost deserted beach, and the wind was blowing softly in my hair. From the sound system, deep melodic tones filled my ears. The morning set, my favourite.

But the music wasn’t just playing to my ears, it was penetrating my skin and vibrating right through my soul. Inside the bubble that surrounded me, it was as if the music was intwined around my heart and mind. An overwhelming feeling of reflection and clarity passed through my body. The sound was gently reassuring me it that all the negativity that I had been feeling was going to be OK. The anxiety, the regret, the loss, the guilt, they all seemed so very small now. I had reached a higher plane and was, for these few seconds, looking back on it as if it was in the past, something that I got over a long time ago.

I cried, smiling. The last year had been tough. I had watched as my dear grandfather faded away from existence. I had watched his bright blue eyes grow dull as his soul slowly left his body. I had seen his empty shell lying there in front of me. Cold and lifeless. We never thought it would be him first. He always had so much energy, so much humour, and so many stories. Just a week before he passed, he had sprung unexpectedly out of his bed, determined to make himself a sandwich; unwilling to accept the fact that he had to be cared for by his baby daughter.

The family coped the best they could. My mother had used every last ounce of her energy to care for her father, and was now depleted, older, drained.

My grandmother had accepted defeat, heartbroken, and had lost the will to leave the house, until the day that she passed away a year or so later.

The guilt had consumed me. I had never appreciated my grandparents or put in the effort to see my family. It was only in the final months that my regret had made me change my attitude, and now it was too late. To help (although it doesn’t, incidentally) myself feel better, I had defaulted back to the only coping mechanism I had ever known (until recently — more on that soon). I had started drinking alcohol again after two years of sobriety and planted my face in a pile of … stuff. By this time, this downward spiral had gone on for some time, and I was numb. Coming to this festival with friends had been the first time that I had really socialised in months.

In this few minutes of clarity, his legacy finally dawned on me.

My family have never been close. We had fought more than most and things had got pretty crazy at times over the years. Bound together by our love of my grandfather, the last few months had brought us closer than ever. The word family now had a meaning. We needed each other now. It was an understanding that overshadowed our personal differences and petty opinions. It was the knowledge that life is always shorter than we expect it to be. Although my grandfather’s passing had broken our hearts, it had taught us to love each other again . It was the greatest gift he ever gave.

If you are interested in hearing some of the music that heals me, click below. I’m sure it won’t be to many people’s taste! I would be interested in knowing other people’s healing music too — 😃

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