singin' heals the soul

I live a lyrical life, sometimes to a fault. Occasionally I can only think in song segments, music overriding any original ideas and erasing any hope of academic focus. Moments, conversations, whole days can remind me of one line and instantly I'm off singing along.

So this was going to be a long post all about the songs in my life and the medicine music can be, but inbetween that thought and this writing I've filled the apartment with Missy Higgins, Regina Spektor, Jay Chou, MC Solaar and Feist. X and I danced about the kitchen while pulling trays of cookies in and out of the oven, singing like we were meant to be on the stage. I've been thinking about this post all day, thinking of how to organise it and imagining lyrics to slip between my words and prioritizing songs to share. But Sophie just got home, iPod on and humming along. She's switched to speakers now, and we all belted out Fine Frenzy's Almost Lover without second thought. I pulled out the guitar and strummed along to Rachael Yamagata while X sang a spontaneous descant to match my alto. The apartment is golden and warm with those notes in the air, and my heart is happy.

Which is, I think, enough of an explanation. That long lyrical post will have to wait, but it might be summed up here: Music is a miracle. Lyrics are a lifeline. And in the famous words of The Tom Butler Band, singin' heals the soul.