Pulling a Trick – Entry Twenty Three

I have been asking you the question what is life?
What is this place?

Is this a waystation or is this some kind of momentary place where all things can, do, and will change?
Or maybe this is just a moment in time. You think?
Maybe this is some kind of temporary suspension, like a hint to an upcoming mystery, as if to foreshadow a new horizon which means, perhaps, maybe we should be looking for the obvious instead of overthinking the complications or digging in too deep.

I know this is life. I know this is where we are now which, again, I can use this like a comparison to a movie, or like that moment on a carnival ride when your guts start to rumble, and at any given moment, the speed can change and so can our direction.

Better yet, maybe this is overthinking too much. Or maybe like I was saying to you the other morning, all we can do is just give this a minute, or two, and then we can let the clock turn to something else.

I do believe in the need to find a great disconnect.
I believe in the soft moments of a healthy escape. I believe in the benefits of meditation.
At the same time; I believe in the beats and the sounds of the drum. Moreover, and with all of my heart and all of my being, I believe in the upcoming angst that occurs when a favorite song comes on the radio.
I love this.
I love when something random comes on the radio.
And then, I’m ready.
I love the inner vibrations that come along with an introduction or an opening tune that blares before the lyrics take hold.
I love the surge, which is enough to create some kind of physiological change—like when we dance, for example. It’s the movement.
This is what creates change.
Ah, to dance . . .
And I don’t mean when we dance in a hall or on a dance floor with people around.
No, this is a different dance. This happens when we cancel out the world around us. Nothing and no one else exists.
We are alone.
We can get down.
We can let our bodies thrash around and sing as loud as we possibly can.
And who cares?
Who cares about the way we jump or sing?
There is no judgment here. No need to sound great or look cool.
The only need is to celebrate the rhythm.

I swear, this can be better than any mood stabilizer or antidepressant.
Sometimes, the mood is intense, and the clock is heavy. The mind is building pressure, like a kettle or a pot, angry as hell, and just about to boil over.
I say this to offer an equal level or a balance or with the need to remove judgement or accusation; I say pot or kettle, either way, the two are the same but different in name only.

So . . .

There is magic here. There is a great trick.
There are the poems of madness and the lyrics of songs which can do countless things for us.
And I mean this. I really do.
Ever find yourself at home alone? The music plays, like an assistant of good nature.
I swear, this can do many things.
This can take us back to good places or allow us to relive good or fond memories.
If nothing else, this can allow us to escape for a minute and cancel out the nonsense which plays in our heads.

Music can do this.  
Music can soothe the savage beast, or so they say.
So I’ve been told.
And it’s true.
You know?

I can be a beast too, but then again . . .
You already knew that.
And sure, I’m crazy.
I’m a rabid beast, at times.
But I can be peaceful.
I can be calm too.
I just need to find the right incentive, sometimes.

I have my own playlist. I have songs that can take me in different directions.
I’m sure that I’m not alone here.
I‘m sure you have one of your own list of songs too.
No?
I am sure you have a list of songs that make you want to dance, or sweat, or maybe there are songs from your past, or maybe there’s a few from your youth. Maybe these are the songs that make you want to rage or scream, or like me, maybe this is a good way for you to let off steam.
Perhaps this helps you the same as this helps me.
You need this. We all do.
We all need a way to relieve the pressure which has been building up in our soul.
You have something like this . . .
Don’t you?
What is it?

What are the songs that remind you of a time when you were young, or a time when you were wild, or if I may, allow me to go on how this pertains to me.
I have different songs that come from different times and from different genres or types of music. Yes, all of these have places, faces, memories, and moments where somehow—I suppose I knew that I would remember this song for some reason.
Music gives memory a sense or depth and this is where the magic comes from.
This is how songs bring us back to a time and place.

I have this memory of summertime in the South Bronx. I was working at the time, and not too far from a jobsite. I was only just a kid, maybe around the age of 15 or 16 years old.
This was mid-summer, and right about the time of sunset on a Friday.
Quitting time.
This was just before it was time to go home, which meant a long ride back to Jamaica, Queens, to unload the truck and put away tools before I could go home.
I was tired. I was sweating. I was hot and sticky. I was thinking about my friends who were my age and elsewhere, running around or being crazy.
But not me.
No, I was learning about the working world.

I had filth on my fingers that took hours to wash off. But worse, I had soot on my face from working on oil burners.

I was standing outside near the company truck.
There was a moment of silence. Odd as ever, and then out of nowhere, music blared from the stoop of a nearby brownstone.
There was something about this to me.
I remember the people I worked with spoke Spanish. They tried to teach me but they mostly taught me curse words and how to say things that would get me in trouble—but I learned,
at least a little.
The song came on and the music seemed to make everyone happy.
I remember this and perhaps I remember why.
The song was sung by a man named Wilfrido Vargas called El Africano.
The people in front of the brownstone seemed to come alive—and everyone was happy.
There was a little girl dancing.
I remember.
I remember staying quiet because it was unlike me to say something about being impressed or being moved by something fun, or innocent, and pure.

I never knew how to lay back and just have fun,
at least not then.
I needed help with this.
I’ve always needed help when it comes to learning how to lay back and have fun.

I have other songs which marked certain moments and memories.
One of which is the song called Hotel California. Then there’s Sweet Thing. And, of course, there’s more. As in a lot more.

I am a person who needs motivation or something to look forward to.
I do this for myself. I do this to keep myself from looking backwards or from overthinking the past.
I am human; therefore, I struggle sometimes.
I need help looking away from rom the unsightly or the uncontrollable times of irreconciliation; whereas, life changes and sometimes, even the drastic changes are simply a gesture of divinity.
Wake up calls are blessings in disguise because without the impact of change, maybe we would have remained stagnant.
Or maybe we might not have done anything different.
Maybe we would “Stay stuck,” and do nothing about a life or a situation that we lacked the bravery to walk away from.

Maybe the best thing to do is walk away sometimes, or if anything, maybe we need to reset ourselves and realize that hey, I want better.
I want more. I deserve this. I work hard and no one has the right to stop, prevent, or to deter me from my finding my destiny.

I am and will always be a constant work in progress.
I have doubts and internal battles, and demons and insecure whispers.
And yeah . . .
Every so often, I need to find the right song to keep myself from slipping off the edge.
But that doesn’t make me a bad person,
at least I don’t think so.

I’m not much of a dancer.
I don’t have much of a singing voice either.
I’m not one for karaoke, to be honest.
But, and for the record . . .
I do like to get down.

It’s a good thing to do because when life is crazy, all one can do is try to keep their neck above the waterline, and keep themselves from drowning.
Think about it.
The music comes on, and at least for a minute or two—the rhythm does its magic, and takes us away.

Before I go, I have a question.
Ever hear a random song from your youth and out of nowhere, you smile—like, man, I needed that.

The truth is, and just to lay down a little hint to ease your curiosity, there’s a song I’ve heard throughout my life, and I’ve heard this with different people too, but in the end, the absolute truth is, yes . . .
“I’d stop the world and melt with you.”