I rarely listen to music. I don’t like it.

Of course, there are exceptions to this. I will never turn down Marvin Gaye. Marvin Gaye only gets turned up. If Africa by Toto comes on, we will all be quiet and listen to it all the way through.

Other than these and a few other rare exceptions, I do not delight in listening to music.

I have musicians in my family. By all accounts, I am a musician. I play the ukulele, the guitar, and I might still have some piano skills. I’ve written music. I’ve performed music at parties. But listening to music is a different issue. It’s a different experience.

Music hurts me. My day can be ruined by a D minor chord. When I listen to music, I feel it emotionally in my whole body, and it’s painful.

When I hear a song that flips the switch on some of my deeper emotions, it might take me days or weeks to recover from it. I think it goes without saying that I am very, very sensitive, and I ruin a lot of car rides for people.

 This is not the kind of thing over which I have control. I don’t want to be this sensitive to music, but I am. I get very uncomfortable when someone turns on music in a car or if someone says, “Have you heard this,” while passing a deadly combination of new music and YouTube video to me via their rectangle of internet dumpster fire.

 When I seek out music, which is very rare, I tend to gravitate toward music I am very familiar with, because it does not affect me the way unfamiliar or fresh music does. 

Music doesn’t just make me overly emotional. It can also make me feel medicated, dizzy, tingly.

Right now I’m listening to a playlist called Space: ambient celestial music, and I feel this music all over my face. I especially feel it in my jaws and in lower cheeks. It is a wonderful feeling like my body is smoke.

This is the kind of music would pair nicely with yoga, slow belly dancing or tai chi…if only I could move.

One thought on “Why I Don’t Enjoy Music

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