Wednesday, October 10, 2007

On the Orange Line

A young African-American girl, earbuds firmly plugged in somewhere under her cap and hair, stared hard at her miniaturized MP3 player in her hand like it held the secrets of the universe. She was totally immersed in her music, feeling it, moving to it, singing it quietly. I love seeing that. I don't know where she was, where her music was taking her, but I wanted to go there with her.

Music, particularly now when I'm playing it, does to me what running used to do, only more gently. Running unhinged my mind, and the thoughts just ran free like wild horses. Music transforms me, and just like a warm blanket doesn't get rid of the cold it just protects me from the cold, music doesn't get rid of the bad memories and feelings, they just don't hurt for some reason. Baxter knew what he was doing when he handed me LuLu a year ago.

So, I don't know where that young girl's mind was this morning, but I have a pretty good idea what she was feeling, and it was a joy to see.

No comments:

Web Analytics