Imperative, indispensable, and essential to our process, non-fiction writers have to get out of the house. Fiction writers can stay in their homes for days on end, listening to the internal dialogues of the characters which they then write about. I wish I could tell a story, a yarn, or a tall tale, but I have tried and I cannot. (Yes, I have really, really tried.) I wish that I could write fiction because I really like staying in the house.
I lieu of being incapable of writing make-believe, I curate playlists. In fact, everyone in my age demographic curated playlists in high school on cassette tapes. Those were the days…
However, I cannot write when there is music playing. As a non-fiction writer, I am busy listening to my own internal dialogue about my feelings and thoughts on life, Yoga, and cheese curds (see the above photo if this makes no sense, then try to pay attention). Therefore, Rage Against the Machine has no place as a soundscape to that inner self-dialogue. Neither does Krishna Das music, for that matter. There must be silence. When teaching Yoga classes, however, I play music at a low volume for my students and for myself. Some Yoga teachers prefer silence. On the weekends for Vinyasa class, I might play a 70s music compilation on a Saturday, and a Yoga music themed playlist on a Sunday.
When I run or walk anywhere that is not Scotland, I stream music on my phone through my earbuds. Or talk to Amy P. on the WhatsApp voice recorder. (Note to my three Amys - Amy N., Amy R., and Amy P. - I met a woman yesterday at a clothing store here in Toronto. When she revealed her name to be Amy, I promptly informed her that I would be calling her Paula should we ever meet again.) When in Scotland, I run and walk without streaming music, but with the phone in tow for pics, video opportunities to post on my YouTube channel, or in case I get attacked by a dangerous cow. Scotland simply does not require a soundscape. It is already built into the landscape as rushing water, birdsong, wind, and drone-cam noise. You do not want Bruce Springsteen getting in the way of it.
Back to my creative outlet of making playlists - I just made a count of them on Spotify for the first time, and it comes to 235. Two hundred and thirty-five playlists. I started using the platform around 2012 to stream music during my Yoga classes. Before that it was all about the iPod. We all have that device in a drawer somewhere because it is too cute to throw out. (Mine is orange). Obviously, music means a lot to me. (See the above photo of Krishna Das and me if this is not obvious to you, then try to pay attention.)
I have playlists that are themed for my individual students, and playlists that are themed to the months and the seasons; playlists that are themed to the elements of wind, water, fire, Earth, and the full moon. There are playlists about various countries and States (here’s my Omaha/Nebraska Lyric playlist). I also have playlists themed to holidays, death-bed situations, and weather events. I have a special one for my dad, for my mother, and for my son.
Speaking of my father, he plays acoustic guitar and played to my brother and me as a bedtime ritual when we were growing up. This is something I will fondly remember if I am fortunate enough to have a death bed opportunity at my time of death (as opposed to dropping dead or similar.)
There is a time and there is a place for the musicscape of our lives. (Do you hear me, Gen Z?) Remember playing records? I am so glad it has made a comeback. I would listen for hours to records with the headphones plugged into the Hi-Fi system - which is why I know the lyrics to Hotel California by heart and will recite them on my deathbed along with fond memories of my dad playing guitar.
The following three songs are in consecutive order on my playlist entitled “Run Forrest, Run.” While listening to it recently - while on a run not in Scotland - I made this observation:
How I feel when running/walking in Omaha: Wake Up
How I feel when running/walking in Toronto: People of the Sun
How I feel when running/walking in Scotland: This is it
Blessings & Love,
Upcoming Virtual Class:
Upcoming Live in Omaha:
You are more likely to recite the lyrics from "Lay Down/Candles in the Rain."
"Little sisters of the sun lit candles in the rain. Fed the world on oats and raisins, candles in the rain. Lit the fire to the soul, who never knew its friend. Maya Baba lives again. Candles in the rain. To be there was to remember, so lay it down again. Oh, lay it down, lay it down, lay it down again. Men can live as brothers. Candles in the rain."