Here’s a story submitted to me by a good friend of mine!
I recently had my heart broken, again. It’s a kind of a trend with me, but after the third time not having my feelings reciprocated by three different women, I wasn’t healing as fast as I used too.
Much like Wolverine in the movie Logan, my heart wasn’t putting itself back together like before, and after spending hours blasting away my fury with every videogame I had I knew I had to do something else. Music had always been a calming activity for me, and I needed it now.
However, I wasn’t about to play and listen to just anything to heal my heart. For that, I needed to head east to Scotland and Ireland. My parents always said that I had the heart of a Scotsman, and I figured that if I did the music might heal me.
So I loaded up my playlist and began to listen to everything instrumental and vocal from the Celtic music genre, and I cried.
Tears of healing
It sounds counterintuitive, but crying over the beautiful music began to heal me. My brain and emotions had always been connected deeply to music, and I was able to isolate and listen to harp melodies, flute solos, and the strong story behind the words as if they were all their own track.
I made sure to focus on songs about loss and repairing broken hearts, listening to every aspect of them and even turning on some ambience from rolling Scottish hills and soft sounds of Irish taverns.
For all intents and purposes, every single time I plugged in my headphones to write or sleep or do anything, I was in one of those countries. I wasn’t wherever I was with all the pain of heartbreak and loss, instead, I was in the highlands searching to find myself.
Working it out
However, as a musician, you can only listen to songs for a certain period of time before you are called to write them yourself. I was the exact same way, and I grabbed my guitar and began to sing the songs I had listened too for so long.
I played them and kept singing, putting myself in the shoes of the musicians who were singing about their broken hearts as I joined their ranks, letting all the pain and the heartache out through my voice and playing.
For that one moment, I was a Scottish musician (despite having no accent whatsoever) and I healed myself through those songs. Plus, I knew that I could sing those songs in the future with no trouble.
I won’t lie and say that pain has just magically gone away, and it’s always with me and always will be. Still, the heartache did bring me closer to the musician inside of me and the heritage of the music that I loved to listen too so much.
So maybe it was all worth it in the end? I can’t say for sure, but I know that I’m healed because of Scottish music, and that’s what matters.