The magic of music...

I love music. Songs can make me cry, laugh, or just smile from ear to ear. Nothing brings me more joy than belting out my favorite tunes while cruising down the road. Music has gotten me through many solo trips across Nebraska and Iowa. (Yes, I am one of those you see tapping the steering wheel and jamming out in the driver’s seat. Be thankful the windows are closed; you do not want to hear me singing.)

I’m a sucker for the sappy songs, the love songs, the stories, and the tears. I have theme songs for various points in my life. “A Change Would Do You Good” by Sheryl Crow was my anthem as I packed all my belongings in my little Mazda and moved to Colorado, leaving my comfortable Midwest behind. “The Long Way Around” by The Chicks might as well be my life motto. I always seem to take the long (and often hard) way. “Standing Outside the Fire” by Garth Brooks captures my life in my 30s, when I did my best not to get burned and stood on the outside of life. My college favorite, “Ironic,” by Alanis Morissette, became poignantly true when cancer threatened to take me just when I was beginning to live.

Music is a powerful medium. A creative force. A unifying art. We relate to the stories told through its poetic lyrics. We are soothed, consoled, encouraged, and pumped up by the melodies and rhythms. From the twang of a guitar to the thump of a deep bass to the syrupy sound of a sweet voice. What is it about music that it just cuts to the heart?

I’ve come to believe that it is a heart-to-heart connection. I’m not a songwriter, and I only dream of being able to sing, but it just feels like the words come from their soul. Stories of life, loss, love, and even the angriest ballads start from the heart. And isn’t that what draws us in? Their heart to yours.

I’ve written about this quote before, but its truth keeps revealing itself.

To watch a musician is to witness aliveness in action. I was at a Jack Johnson concert last week and felt what it is like to be in the company of someone who is clearly doing what makes them come alive. It oozes out of them. It flows through them. And to look around the audience and see a crowd of thousands of people moving to the rhythm, single individuals coming together as one large swaying body, all connecting with the person on stage. All feeding on the energy emanating from one person (or a band of people) living out loud in front of you.

In those few hours, my heart felt every emotion from sadness to pure joy and deep love. He talked about the songs he wrote for his wife and the lyrics he penned inspired by the ocean. I smiled as he sang, “I Got You,” reliving the crisp fall evening of our wedding and dancing with Alan outside under the stars and a near-full moon. He wove in a few covers, and I sang along at the top of my lungs when he did a short take on Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” hit. I loved Dolly. I didn’t care who heard me.

I sometimes forget how much I get from music. But I think Howard Thurman was onto something. Being around people who are so full of life is infectious and inspiring. They remind you to stop worrying what others think and just be who you are. Every time I go to a live music concert, I walk away wanting to live my life with the same passion and freedom I witness on stage. And the courage to do what I love even if it doesn't look like "real work."

Whether you think the world needs music or not, I know my life is better because of musicians who do what makes them come alive. Their aliveness spreads like one candle lighting another and another until the whole place is alight with flame. It's that light--that's what the world needs.

Thank you, music makers.

Do what makes you come alive. Your aliveness -- your light – is contagious.