Music is the food of the soul, so it has been said. I am one kind of a person that listens to music regularly but not religiously. Fitting music probably makes the soul as fit as a fiddle.
When on the road for many hours, music makes one arrive at his or her address with bells on. Music and all that jazz is part of human culture, so to speak. It is music to my ear to write about music. It is a task that makes me march to the beat of my drum.
I am reminded of the year 2013 when I was travelling from Nairobi to Western Kenya. It was the month of December; a time when social events build to the highest crescendo. As such, there is a heightened movement among the populace, and this can be a constraint to public transport. This is what happened on the very day I was going. Initially, I had thought of boarding a bus that will see me get to Western Kenya expressly. However, what I observed at the bus stages prompted me to consider singing a different tune lest I face the music. I decided to board a public van, commonly called matatu to Nakuru, then from Nakuru, I would board another one to Eldoret, and then finally find my way to Kitale. And this is how I found myself in a matatu.
The van was as clean as a whistle, and the driver spick and span. The van would then leave the Nairobi town as driver treated us to select music. He was the one calling the tune as the passengers played second fiddle. It seemed that he was affectionate to old music and he did not make a song and a dance about the latest hits.
I slept almost all the way. But there is a distinct song he played that made my heart, mind and body match to the same tune. It is a kind of a song that was produced many years ago, and it brought back primary school memories. I hadn’t listened to it for a month of Sundays, and you can imagine how I instantly struck a chord with it. The tune, words and rhythm kept ringing in my mind in a lingering manner.
To cut a long story short, I decided then and there that I would find the song and play it when I am unwinding.
When listening to music, I always take note of distinctive sounds produced by multiple instruments. It is a fantastic way of getting the best out music. Even the kind of music one would consider horrible end up sounding nice when I unpack it into its constituents. Accordingly, I would listen to a drum set, then the piano, the guitar, the trumpet, and so forth. The genius employed by the one playing the drum is impressive. The creativity of the guitar player is incredible.
This applies to our lives. We like to whine about life and how tough it is. We scarcely take time to look at the ingredients of life and relish them apart. Life is good when we celebrate even the smallest things. Life is as clear as a bell when we live the days in a year and not the years in a year. There is always something good in life. We need to pause, and count our blessings; name them one by one. It will shock us how much we are blessed.
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: