The Power of a Good Listener and a Good Melody

Who does postcards anymore? Fortunately, some in my circle are still enamored with snail mail, and I recently opened my postal box to a colorful happy new year missive from Anna. I’ve known her for 22 years now – ever since the day we sat next to one another in a creative writing class at the International Women’s Writing Guild’s annual conference. The event took place at Skidmore College, so I didn’t have far to travel. Anna, on the other hand, made the journey from Melbourne – which involved two days of travel and 20+ hours on airplanes. The rigor of the journey didn’t matter to Anna – she was elated to be immersed in a creative and supportive environment. We bonded instantly, and because of her sweet spirit and utter lack of guile, I felt a prompting I don’t often get: the soft whisper of intuition that said, ‘The coast is clear…she’s a safe one to trust.’

Photo credit of ancient Buddhist statue and ruins in
Ayutthaya, Thailand: Anna Gould

In between classes, we sat across from one another on Adirondack chairs or on shaded picnic tables getting to know one another. Anna listened, with unbroken eye contact, as I told her about my unhappy past and even unhappier present, which included being in a stagnant relationship and toxic job environment. Literally, I was pickled in misery, and Anna gently responded with a sincere desire to listen – a welcome 180 from being the resident free therapist to parasitic acquaintances posing as friends.

As you may imagine, Anna’s compassion had a profoundly healing effect on me. And our brief in-person time together underscored the deployment of a human superpower (sociopaths and narcissists notwithstanding): With our choice words and demeanor, we can either enhance or diminish the life of another. Simple as that. The sweet attentiveness Anna showed me inspired a desire in me to be more kind. And while I was immersed in that nurturing enclave of creative women, kindness flowed effortlessly. The following week, however, it was back to reality: the lackluster relationship, dreaded office environment, and all the other forms of road bumps that effectively derail a serene disposition.

Even though the exceptionally good-hearted can and do change the emotional temperature of a room just by being in it, it’s not a realistic formula for remaining in an elevated state. Life comes with no guarantee that there’ll always be an earth angel hovering conveniently nearby. So, my ultimate aspiration is to simply be kind, no matter’s who’s inhabiting my space or what sundry demons from the past badger my memory bank.

But I don’t hold myself to unrealistic standards. Every single day, I fail at kindness. The one thing I’ve never failed at is my ongoing choice to sometimes take the low road. Whether it’s seething curses at a rude driver, stoking my all-too-active furnace of resentment with a pile of fresh tinder, or deciding not to forgive someone who has hurt me. Forgiving myself for hurting others is something I don’t do easily, either.

Of course, being human, I’m subject to being conjoined with an ego that encourages such rancor, but I don’t want it getting out of hand. Believe me, dwelling on unresolved anger for past misdeeds done to me can catapult me from irritation to boiling rage in less than 10 seconds - not a wellbeing-enhancer.

I put practices in place to mitigate the compulsive pull to the dark side: disciplined morning readings of spiritual texts, following those Facebook accounts dedicated to playful baby elephants, and staying mindful of little perks I enjoy, like food and shelter. Sometimes, though, I need a stronger medicine - call it an emergency intervention for the soul - and nothing does it for me like music.

From the moment I heard Andy Williams singing “Born Free” as a child, I knew that soundwaves from a stirring melody are powerful enough to catapult me from blind hatefulness to a softened state of mind at lightning speed, which is nothing short of miraculous. The non-verbal nature of a melody makes it the ultimate fighter jet to bypass the analytic-loop of the mind and air-drop a love bomb straight to the heart’s center. The right melody not only invokes an altered state, but it also safely and effectively disarms me of my lethal weapons that make the world an unhappier place.

I liken music’s potential to heal to the Wright Brothers’ long-sought after attempt to at last, become airborne. So here’s my formula for when I’m feeling especially hardboiled and unforgiving: I call upon the gentle but masterful weapon that is Lionel Richie, the creative knight in shining armor responsible for some of the most heart-opening melodies ever written. I usually lose it when he sits at the piano and gets introspective. Heck, the man had me tearing up at his Budweiser jingle’s back in the 70’s!

Anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of being transmuted to tears by the beauty of music knows that crying under these conditions is just a euphemism for the heart willingly surrendering its walls. For many of us, this isn’t our natural state. Music is the ultimate existential cheat sheet for elevation – it sneaks in the back door with a bouquet of roses and a hug, letting us know that Love has entered the building and we can breathe a little easier.

The whisper of intuition recently led me back to a melody I hadn’t thought of in decades – one of Lionel Richie’s lesser-known songs from his days with The Commodores. I saw the band sing it as a finale on their HBO special back in the 80’s and it made a lasting impression. Whether you’re a follower of the New Testament or not is secondary – to me this song is about easy access to Loving Kindness. If it works better for you, substitute the J-word with Forgiveness, Shanti, Generosity, Tikkun Olam, The Buddha, Loving Thy Neighbor, Ubuntu – any of those benevolent qualities the world needs more of.

When I’ve bellyflopped into the canyon of clutching my egoic demons with both hands, this song reminds me that letting go of them is a hurdle that is clearable. I figure if Jesus could forgive the people who were engaged in the act of killing him; and an enclave of Amish families forgave the man who murdered their daughters in a one-room Pennsylvania schoolhouse in 2006, I’ve got a legitimate shot at dissolving the ghosts of my past grievances.

Whether I want to pay attention to this truth or not, what I think, say and do all have a ripple effect. And on the days that I fail, when my heart is in hardened turmoil from the strain of living in 2025 and the memories from my past, The Commodores plus a gospel choir melt it all away like rock salt to a path burdened with ice.

PS - And by all means, share in the comments with me the melodies that do it for you! I’m building the perfect playlist.