I once told a friend that it was time for her big musical number. You know, that turning-point, show-stopping moment where she declares who she is, what she wants, and what she’s going to do to get to the next stage of life.
I grew up loving musicals—well, the ones I could get my hands in the ’burbs, anyway. While my musical knowledge was, for a long time, limited to Disney movies, I have seen them all a gazillion times, I know all the songs by heart, and I appreciate that they’ve lent my oft-serious worldview some much-needed silliness.
What I most love about musicals, and music in general, is that song is a really effective way to grapple with intense feelings.
You going through something that cannot be intellectualized, exactly? Sing it, baby! Or, at the very least, pop in your earbuds and go for a walk.
It turns out there’s research to back this…
A few years ago, I attended a weekend retreat with the wonderful Buddhist meditation teacher Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche and he shared a number of techniques for making peace with strong emotions. One strategy that I’ve found particularly helpful (and which I’d been doing in my own way for decades… Cue me weeping listening to The National) was his method for working with music when suffering arises.
If you’re curious about how you might work with your own emotions, I highly recommend his book Emotional Rescue.
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In the Disney universe, musical numbers are also a great way of introducing yourself in a delightfully kooky way. Take OG goth queen Mad Madame Mim’s intro song from the Disney classic The Sword in the Stone:
With only a touch/I have the power
zim zaba rim bim/to wither a flower…
Whoa, Mim! What did that poor flower ever do to you?
Songs are such a fun method for connecting, for shifting energy, for feeling alive that I have to wonder why we’ve settled upon the societal convention of starting conversations with people we don’t know by asking,
“So what do you do?”
Look. People aren’t going to stop asking you basic-ass questions like that, so you might as well ask yourself how Mad Madam Mim would respond.
(Then maybe take it down 20 notches cause she was pretty extra TBH.)
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I suggested my friend needed a musical number because she’d been going through a lot at the time. I knew that I could have given her all sorts of practical advice about what she might do about it, but I don’t think that’s what she wanted from me. No, she wanted someone to really hear her, to bear witness to her pain, to understand.
I think that’s all any of us ever really need or want.
Long before I ever knew about meditation or mindfulness, my imagination was my way out of suffering. Framing my challenges as a big dramatic mountain to climb (shout out, Mother Abbess!) has always helped me find fun and inspiration even in the toughest times.
Of course, it bears mentioning that my beloved Mad Madam Mim is a villain who’d much rather strike down her enemies than do any real work on herself. (On the one hand, I see her as an unfortunate victim of the Medieval patriarchy—BUT ALSO she tranforms herself into a dragon and tries to torch a young boy and we should probably hold her accountable for that.)
I guess what I’m trying to get at is this: having your own musical number is just the first step of healing. But we can’t permanently live our lives at the center of our own musicals because, you know, we share the planet with a whole bunch of other musicians.
And so, every time you find yourself in conflict with someone, you might also ask yourself, “What song are they singing? Am I really listening to their melody? Do I need to be the one solo-ing right now?”
How might we harmonize better?
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You’ll find no better place for musical inspiration than comedian Ilana Michelle Rubin’s new podcast The Bop Pod. I’ve always loved the way Ilana brings her love of music (and, in particular, Drake) into her comedy, and this podcast is a must-listen for music lovers and pop culture nerds.
Xoxo
Sarah