A few days ago, I was thinking about how music and suddenly realized that despite the fact that I have a robust collection of playlists on Apple music (my vendor of choice) I have not been listening as much as I used to. I mentioned to my therapist that it used to be when I had a looming project deadline, I would put my headphones on, say “butt back, head down, fingers fly” and get to work to cranked up raucous beats that got my adrenaline running.

Lately, in the last two? maybe years, I haven’t felt like music. Perhaps I have aged out of needing the rhythm to work. Perhaps I have lost my appetite for the subtle heresies and biases of lyrics in songs I used to enjoy. Or maybe music isn’t connecting with my psyche as much anymore. I am not sure I know the answer to that, but it was an odd moment when I became aware of my comfort with the energy of silence vs my previous need for the potency of sound.

I remember a sunny Saturday in the early 2000s when I was driving to an event an hour or so away. I had “Lightning Does the Work” a country song about the ways the loud rumbling of thunder pretends to be powerful, while the strategic flash of lightning is the real impetus of destruction blaring on the radio. Meanwhile, a state trooper pulled me over because I was both driving fast and a little recklessly, because I was engaged with the music in a way that defied compliance with little things like turn signals and speed limits. I definitely deserved my ticket. But it also didn’t stop my belting out the lyrics to the song, even while it did reduce (for a while) my temptation/tendency to speed.

What is weird to me is that at this particular moment, I can’t imagine being that caught up in a song. It just feels like music is a mystery to me that once caught my attention but now is a memory of past joy that can never be recaptured. I am not sure when exactly it happened. I am left only with a strange grief that is tied to the memory of how music once made me feel. I have tried to listen, tried to let it pour over me again like it used to. Music, or rather the connection to the music, seems to consistently elude my efforts, dancing just outside the grasp of my spirit’s fingertips, brushing past my longing like a crush unaware of my existence. Close enough to almost touch, far enough to miss.

Where did the music go exactly? I don’t know but I think I want it back.