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In the oncology unit… pain. But also… music. The music, the aesthetics of the music, soon took over. Some movement. A mantra. Floating. And drift away…
She was just lying in the bed staring… waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for the pain to ease. Waiting for counts to recover. Waiting to go home after over 50 days in the hospital’s in-patient oncology unit. Just staring at the ceiling… waiting. In previous visits we sang songs together to help her cope with her journey through treatment. But now? It was different. The pain seemed to have taken over.
I started with just some ‘ethereal’ music on the guitar. Music to soothe… music to comfort… music to hold her in this space and give her something to focus on. Something away from the pain. Something aesthetic. And after some time, she finally looked at me—connection.
Soon, without thinking about it, I moved into a down-tempo version of Drift Away. She closed her eyes. As I was progressing through the song, her face started to slowly change… softer. And when I sang the chorus—“Give me the beat boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock ‘n’ roll and drift away…”—a soft smile. Something was connecting. The song. The music was taking over. I noticed some light, easy movement in her body, almost like she was swaying or rocking.
Every time I hit the chorus… a soft smile. When I was nearing the end of the song, I wanted to keep the connection, the feeling, going so I simplified the music, almost drone-like, and the lyric—“Give me the beat boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock ‘n’ roll and drift away…”—became almost a mantra. Continuously repeating around rhythmic block chords. On and on and on and on… It almost felt trance like. (For me too.) After the music finally came to a close, after a long pause she said, “I was floating.” [Drifting?] “I was floating out and above my body. It felt… nice. It felt… safe. I felt… free. I was floating above the pain.” When she reached for my hand as I was leaving, our eyes met for a moment. She smiled. I smiled.
On my morning walk today, I was listening to the ‘Classical New Releases’ playlist on Spotify (one of my favorites) and reflecting on this past week where I was dealing with some emotional and physical challenges. (Certainly nothing close to what is referenced above.) Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played (a new recording by Camille and Julie Berthollet) and suddenly, the beauty and melancholy in the music made me start to… drift away. Suddenly, I felt the music throughout my entire body. And it took me a moment to realize that I had stopped in my tracks and was just standing there… listening. I also felt some unexpected emotion coming up. I felt a bit out of control… but in a pleasant way. I was… drifting? I felt like I was almost floating above the sidewalk. I felt a bit lighter, like something was… releasing. The music took over. It felt… freeing. Some of my inner pain was… drifting away.
It's amazing what the right song, the right piece of music can do when we need it most. Music seems to find us if we are open to letting it in. Music can help us reflect and music can help us release. Music seems to be able to give us what we need, when we need it most - a full mind and body experience. Certainly, the woman in the oncology unit needed ‘something’ to help ease her pain. And I needed ‘something’ to help release me from the grips of some inner sorrow. Music found her. Music found me. She let the music in. I let the music in. And drift away…
“And when my mind is free, you know a melody can move me.
When I'm feelin' blue, the guitar's coming through to soothe me.”
The healing power of music…
What music helps you drift away? Please comment below, I love hearing from you!
(*The stories presented in this blog are based on accounts and experiences and are not actual accounts or experiences.)
Raymond Leone, MMT, MT-BC is director of Medical Music Therapy at A Place To Be and the Inova Health System
Beautiful and inspiring as always!