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Usually, I mentally tune out the music constantly playing here in Starbucks. It’s there, but I’m not thinking about it. Serious cogitation going on up here in my noggin. To far-off islands I go into thoughts of what I want to communicate, and how, and in what style. I think about being honest, and sometimes I tap into that mindset more genuinely than others. Sometimes I try not to think about what anyone will think of this artistic creation, but can’t fend that off. My brain often seems to have a mind of its own, unwilling to cede control to what I want it to do. Brains are complicated, which is why life is also.
All hippocampus gymnastics notwithstanding, a few weeks ago a song came on that caught my attention because, for some reason I can’t explain – my brain won’t let me think up the exact words – it sounded good to me. It made me feel something exciting, something hopeful, and energizing. Art can do this, which is why it’s so necessary. Art equals emotions. Emotions are human experiences. You just read a syllogism, I think.
The song made me feel that life has thrills. We can be captivated, taken away by a song, emotionally elevated, intrigued. All of us have experienced these sensations. All of us who are alive. No one is exempt.
My thought when the song came on was simple: “Wow, that sounds really good. I can’t put my finger on why. It just does. There’s something about it that grabs me, unlike all the other songs that play here. It makes me feel like life is incredible. The song makes me want to run toward it. Jump in the air and grab it.”
Then it was over. It left me wanting to hear it more, to hear it again. But I didn’t act. I left myself wanting, which everyone knows is a tough feeling to grapple with if you really want whatever it is you’re wanting. Wantful or not, I had no other option than to go back to typing, knowing I may never hear the song again, hoping that would not be my ultimate fate. Hearing the song again would be important to my life, feeling full.
A week or so later, typing here again, the same thing happened. The song came on and I said to myself, “There it is again. It sounds so good. It’s pulling me toward it. It’s as if I wanted to walk right at the song, tell it how much I liked it, totally unconcerned with how it would react.”
I thought that I needed to know the name of the song so I could play it again on my smartphone. But again, I didn’t act. Sometimes I am hesitant, like the time right here a few months ago when Joe Gibbs walked right by and I hesitated to get up and tell him how much I loved him for bringing three Vince Lombardi Trophies to me.
Then last night I told myself if I heard the song while her, I would ask the Starbucks workers for the song name while it was playing. Good strategic plan. Sometimes I think ahead pragmatically. I would grab it; I wouldn’t let it go again because I didn’t want to any longer wonder if I would ever hear the song again because, not knowing the name of it, what control did I have of whether it would ever enter my life again?
There were no guarantees, as there are pretty much none in life other than Sammy Sportface will write another blog after this one, and there’s no known way any of us can forecast for sure what it will be about.
The song came on. I quickly went and asked for the name and artist.
Answer: Tom Grennan’s “Remind Me.”
It felt as if I had caught the song coordinates very much like I once or twice trapped a lightning bug in a glass jar with the lid slammed shut. The song wasn’t getting away this time. Drove home, sat in my chair, and listened with my eyes closed.
A time of pleasant armchair transcendental meditation. It positively moved me. It made me feel good like a Snickers Bar chew. Had you seen me grooving in my chair, you would have thought, “That looks a little strange, but overall, he’s not harming anyone.”
Today, as I was driving here again, I listened to the song and read the lyrics. It was interesting, poignant actually, unprecedented in all honesty, that these were the lines, almost as if the song was created and written for the exact experience I was having with it.
Check out this lyric: “I can’t sing along because I forgot the song. So, how does it go? Please remind me. Would you please remind me?”
For the first time listening to a song, of the ~689,561 million songs during my life, the words in the song matched my experience. Unable to remember how it goes, I had to hear it to be reminded, and then ask the name. It’s as if the song is about all the times people hear a song but can’t remember it, so they have to be reminded what it sounds like, to hear it played again.
Cool things happen sometimes, and often they happen while listening to a song. Music may be better than almost anything at making people feel deep emotions. Let me remind you now what “Remind Me” sounds like and notice how it makes you feel. Close your eyes. Listen here:
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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