Music heals
The only time that I don’t play, sing or dance to music is in the wee, late hours of the evening because my sixty-something bedmate has this “not a pipsqueak” policy in our bedroom that won’t allow any sound to break it. It was my first compromise as a Sadie Lady (read: married) and totally contrary to my routine. I grew up with my transistor radio constantly tuned in to DZMT’s All Night Stand and Lady DJ, Jo San Diego, and her cache of kundiman, Spanish, and all-American standard and easy listening hits.
Once, my hubby tried to compensate by getting this gadget that reproduced sounds, guaranteed to put anyone to sleep. It had five dials: The sound of a flowing river, the tide rushing to the shore, a cascading waterfall, the pitter-patter of pouring rain, and a full chorus of crickets and frogs in the rain forest. Bum. It kept me wide-awake like the nocturnal tarsier.
Music was not meant to stress you out or cause you to panic as if you were at the edge of a waterfall and your kayak was plummeting down through sharp and rocky edges and you can’t swim.
Music lifts the spirit, soothing and calming. The feel-good sensation it generates builds up happy hormones to keep you strong and healthy.
My father took pleasure in humming and listening to Spanish love songs and I used to sing to him right after he had completed his evening toilette and had changed into his pajamas, “Júrame, que aunque pase mucho tiempo, nunca olvidaré el momento, en que yo te conici…” (Promise me that although much time may pass by, you’ll never forget this moment when I first met you.)
Instantly, he hits dreamland. Hardly have I reached the sweet refrain of the second or third song when I’d hear him break into a soft, rhythmic snore.
Music brings feelings of comfort and stillness that hushes the body and lulls you to sleep like a baby.
When my children were still being tucked in bed, my nightly repertoire consisted of two songs: For Baby by Brothers Four and Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul and Mary. The moment I stroke his forehead, my son would give me that impish grin, “Here comes Mom and her 10 minutes-before-shut-eye lullabies.” Like clockwork, he’d be fast asleep, not stirring until the following morning.
Eye-pope-ing bags: Papal tarps can be repurposed into nice functional bags.
Since turning senior, my sleeping pattern has dramatically crushed. It’s a breeze to stay awake past midnight but only until 2 a.m. If I exceed, I’d be wide-eyed like a hooting owl with my wits circling into frenzy, not knowing what to do with brain waves crackling and hot on fire. That’s when I’d grab my earphones and lose myself in music stored in my cellphone. Music again saves the day, err night, for me.
In a social network, I watched Jared, a male nurse, who loved to sing while on duty. Why not sing to his patients? It was not required, but he went the extra mile to make them feel loved and cared for. Holding the hand of an elderly patient, he began to sing, “... and time after time, you’d hear me say that I’m so lucky to be loving you.” The elderly patient was singing along, knowing the lyrics that reminded her of how beautiful life was in her youth. On the final refrain, she was wiping tears of joy. They were feel-good tears, a timely reminder that life, precious life, was worth living until the end. Jared’s singing has improved the health and disposition of his patients, making them less dependent on mood stabilizers and medications throughout the day.
This is music’s ability to touch souls. There is a healing power in music that can help combat memory loss and bring a sense of relief to those suffering from Alzheimer’s and other degenerative ailments.
Speaking of sleeping soundly, Pope Francis made reference to St. Joseph who was a kind and righteous man. He harbored no ill feelings towards anyone so he had no difficulty falling asleep. It was when he was asleep that the angel appeared with the answer to his dilemma.
“I like St. Joseph very much,” said the Pope. “He is a strong man of silence. On my desk I have a statue of St. Joseph sleeping. While sleeping, he looks after the Church. Yes, he can do it! When I have a problem or difficulty, I write on a piece of paper and I put it under his statue so he can dream about it. This means, pray to St Joseph for this (your) problem.”
I’d add singing. Remember, singing is like praying twice. With faith and music, I’d surely turn the corner and get out of any tight spot.
Sweet dreams, everyone!
