Sometimes you just need to listen to something retro. A track that doesn’t feature Fetty Wap or Ellie Goulding. Something you can’t find on Spotify.
Yesterday morning was one of those times. I drove to my UNC class with the windows cranked down, humming (read: screaming) along to Billy Joel. I felt nostalgic for 1970’s Long Island, a time I have admittedly never even known.
But that is the power of music. It lets you experience something you haven’t before—and probably never will.
The simple truth of it is that we could all be a little happier if we listened to music more often. And the harder truth is that if we could all just let go a bit, let go of our expectations, our disappointments, our constant need to analyze, we might be able to think a little less and just live.
Recently, I’ve actually started to use this strategy. Listening to Billy Joel was one iteration. But now I actively try to silence my negative thoughts. We are so lucky to go to this school, meet like-minded people and challenge ourselves every day.
The other day, I got jealous of something my friend had accomplished. I thought to myself: I couldn’t do that. I’m not capable of that kind of skill. And it became a spiral of things I couldn’t and would never be able to do. People that would always be smarter or more talented than me.
And then I remembered. You can’t base your life off of these trivial comparisons or trust everyone else’s judgment over your own. And most importantly: you can’t be anyone other than yourself. I know that sounds trite, but it’s probably the statement that has helped me the most throughout my tumultuous college years. This is me—for better or worse.
So where does Billy Joel come in? He’s a part of me just like any musician who really makes me feel something. I associate listening to his music with my childhood and my parents. I have memories of long car rides and greatest hits albums. These will forever be interlaced with Billy Joel for me.
And the most shocking part of my Billy Joel experience was that I remembered every word. I found the notes, the cadences coming back to me as if I had never left. “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” was like an old friend. ‘Bottle of red, bottle of white…’ I knew it all.
But how does this happen? How can our brain possibly remember these relatively meaningless words for so long?
Maybe it’s because the music we listen to is always with us. Guiding us through the hard times, cheering us on through the good. We remember every word because the music is always there.
For a long time now, I’ve been thinking about one topic: happiness. Sometimes it seems like there should be a magic potion for the feeling. “Drink this and you’ll feel happy in 1-2-3.”
Alas, life is not that way—especially for the average Duke student. Most of us tend to overanalyze, which can lead to too much thinking and not enough living.
I follow this pattern. I let myself be happy only long enough to remind myself of all the reasons I shouldn’t be. When I finally get that longed-for “alone time,” I find plenty of company in my own thoughts. And those can get pretty scary.
If you start looking for reasons to be unhappy, soon enough you’ll find them. It’s easy to misinterpret everything somebody says. It’s easy to replace the music inside your head with somebody else’s. And it’s just never as good. I don’t know how to shut my brain off entirely. They say meditation is a good strategy—yoga, oils? All these old remedies for an old kind of thinking. But what if these things don’t work? What if they don’t make us happy?
I have one solution.
What if we stopped thinking so much? What if we started living our life without the “what if’s” and the “but maybe’s?” It seems like an implausible idea. But listening to music, watching movies, looking at art? They all get us closer to achieving this goal. Socrates may have said an unexamined life is not worth living, but what about a too-examined life? Is that worth living too?
When we engage in art, it’s an escape from the issues that we encounter in everyday life. It’s also a way to engage our brain in ways we may not normally. We are feeling while thinking. What a novel concept.
Elizabeth Djinis is a Trinity senior and Recess Managing Editor.
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