Illustration: The Magazine of Yoga
Music Snobs, Surrender.
BY MAGAZINE COLUMNIST EMMANUELLE LAMBERT
I am sitting on my couch, working on my laptop.
My significant other, also known as Lovely Boyfriend, is working in his office, next to the living room where said couch and myself rightfully sit.
He is closing the door between the two rooms. That can only mean one thing: he is going to rummage in his stack of CDs and put some music on. And I am going to brace myself in an attempt to forgive him for what he is going to put my ears and me through.
As I expected, he has chosen the one and only thing that makes me shake my head in disbelief at the thought that he is actually in the second half of his thirties. He has chosen video games music.
Yes, these old tunes that only gamers and geeks worship and can talk about for hours, reminiscing about the “good ol’ times” of gaming.
Somebody else’s soundtrack
It makes me smile, because Lovely Boyfriend visibly remembers the kid he was (is). But let’s face it: I hate the music. I hate it with a passion.
Being a music lover doesn’t make me prone to liking every and any music genre. Being a music lover makes me, if anything, a music snob. Being a yogini doesn’t mean I will be “zen-like” (whatever that means) and open to everything.
The truth is, most of the times I don’t even choose the music I listen to. Sometimes I will most likely put up with someone else’s music, especially in contexts such as public transports. I am not necessarily talking about the young dudes listening to music so loudly I could as well have stolen their headphones and put them on my ears – hello Brussels transport company.
Even my own music wouldn’t be audible in places like the under ground. And even home can turn out to be hell when you were looking for a haven (even heaven?) of peace and comfort. What is left for me to do?
Music niyama: if it has to be right it’s ego not practice
What is left when you find yourself in circumstances can become a factor of stress and discomfort?
I have a piece of advice for you, something you will most likely have heard if you attend yoga classes regularly.
I know, you must be wondering what the hell I am talking about by now.
What I am saying is simple: what you don’t want to listen to, listen to it, come closer. From this place of discomfort can emerge something you might not expect, you did not expect.
As I am listening and paying attention to the funny sounds emerging from Lovely Boyfriend’s office, I have come to realize that these sounds are, indeed, funny, and create the feeling they were designed to create in the first place: playfulness.
Now I am smiling because Lovely Boyfriend is a cutie (and I am not biased, I swear), but also because the music he is playing behind the closed door is pure fun.
It’s all just sensation, excellent yogis
Discomfort is, by essence, painful and an uneasy place to be. However this is the place where you learn and grow more than you ever thought you would.
Even in public transportation, I promise, when all I can hear is not-so-good hip hop and rap music.
What does the trick for me is generally the bass line, so heavy and grounded it resonates and vibrates deep inside. I know, not really a surprise coming from bass-lover me.
Even when you watch reality TV, I promise, when all you can hear is wannabe singers literally decapitating and scorching a song. You think your ears are bleeding. No, they are learning how to sort out what you like and refining your tastes. And again, not burying my head in the sand: on some occasions it is just plain funny.
Actually, as I listened to Lovely Boyfriend’s music, I felt the urge to have fun too.
I grabbed my laptop and headed to my special room, the one that is supposed to be the laundry room but is really my personal studio. There I cleared the space, picked up some groovy music and had a little party on my own.
One of my go-to tunes to lift up my energy is the B52’s “Love Shack”, this one never fails me.
I also picked up music that I used to despise, music I used to roll my eyes to when it came up on the radio. Music that overtime I have come to appreciate as great pick-me-up bubble gum pop music.
I have learned and grown over prejudices and discomfort.
(And I will always pick Britney Spears over Lady Gaga. That’s my prerogative.)
Tip o’ the hat to Bobby Brown!
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© 2011, The Magazine of Yoga, LLC.