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Love for The Lyrics

Like many of us, I’ve spent a great deal of my life relating to the lyrics of my most favourite songs. I didn’t have much growing up and although we weren’t poor, I wasn’t by any means a spoiled child and nothing came easy. We often waited until Christmas or birthdays to get that “special” gift, and even then, it didn’t always come. For the most part, there was music and music was free. We didn’t really buy cassettes or albums but we had a radio, a record player and my mother’s collection of vinyl records. In her younger years, my mother was a huge Beatles fan, with John being her favourite. Growing up, I spent a great deal of time by her side listening to the music of her youth and songs she loved, which in turn, I too learned to love and appreciate. It wasn’t until I was slightly older, I’m not sure when exactly or why, but at some point, my sister handed down to me a little purple radio. It was no bigger than 12 inches long. For years it sat at the top of my bed just above my pillow. I didn’t realize it till now, but that radio was the start of something important and although the cassette player didn’t work, the AM/FM dial worked just fine. Looking back, it was through this little mechanism that my love for the lyrics was born.


Like most young teens, I spent a lot of time alone in my room, lost in my thoughts and often hating myself for something I did or didn’t do. Saddened by my pathetic life and toxic upbringing (which I have earned the right to describe it as such) that little purple radio was always on. Night after night I laid with my head close to the speaker. It was never turned up loud, just enough so I could hear it. With my right hand on the dial, I would roll through the stations, back and forth, looking for a clear reception and songs that would capture my current state of being. I found safety in those nights and inner peace. It was a way to escape the harsh hell that I was born into and allow myself a freedom that only I could understand. I learned a lot about music this way. I learned a lot about myself. There were so many songs, so many words and so many times that the lyrics carried me peacefully throughout the night and into the day. The years came and went and though I don’t exactly remember ridding myself of the purple radio, I never forgot the solace those nights provided me with.


I’ve spent a great deal of time surrounded by musicians and music lovers. Come to think of it, my bloodline is made-up of great musicians, nobody famous though, but that’s irrelevant. Music runs in our veins and it has always been there. It’s part of who we are culturally and as a people. If you know anything about Greeks then you know music is life. Although, I myself, never had the strong desire to play an instrument, I spent many of my childhood years forcefully, without a choice, banging on piano keys and three years in the high school band squeaking out broken notes on the clarinet. I hated both. For me it was all about the lyrics, the poetry and my emotional connection to the words, never the instruments themselves.


Fast forwarding ahead, I find myself here, 44 years of age crippled with mental illness and a broken state of being; it’s been hard, as only few can relate while others try to understand. Unfortunately, there is no magic pill or cure, but for me there is music and there are lyrics; words perfectly orchestrated into some kind of poetic composition expressing feelings of love, happiness, hate, desire and disappointment.


Music can heal us in ways medicine cannot and reach the soul deeper than that of a human touch. If we listen closely, behind every great song there is wisdom within the lyrics. For many of us, it is these words that write the soundtrack of our lives. Unsure of what to expect, I am for certain that the road ahead is a long one but I am hopeful that the lyrics found within the songs continue to carry me safely through the crossroads, out of the darkness and into the light.



Have a Remarkable Day!

Peace-Love-Stasia


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