A year and a half ago I wrote a blog about the topic of loneliness because I continued to find a lack of connection with others in the music world. It's a topic a lot of influential people are writing about these days including our Surgeon General who calls it a "public health problem." We all know that just being alone, or for that matter being in the company of someone, does not make one not feel lonely, nor feel lonely. It all depends. (Doncha love these little snuggling AI-generated birds who cluster together but look a little shell shocked and lonely to me?!)
What it depends on was revealed more to me in an article in my Sunday 9.1.24 New York Times, "Why is the loneliness epidemic so hard to cure?" by Matthew Shaer. From time to time I've discussed this topic with a mezzo-soprano therapist Cary. Thus, she relates well to the topic of loneliness plus my love of music and struggles in lessons with a few piano teachers.
I've never really been one to suffer from living alone, or being by myself for long stretches of time be that days, months or years. I lived without a partner but sometimes with a roommate until I was age 58 when my partner happened to walk in front of me via a business connection, and the rest is history. Until then I was perfectly productive and generally happy by myself. In fact for five years before we met, I had given up the thought that I would ever find a partner.
I attribute my general happiness being alone to a curious mind that sometimes plagues, but almost always delights me while questing for knowledge that results therefrom. I'm alone five days a week because my partner works outside the home, but I relish this quiet time to explore, practice my piano, take walks, read, or research and write poetry or blogs. That's never been a problem for me.
What have been problems are two things. The first is, frankly, that I need to find ways to feel special to a few significant people in my life, going back to my lack of feeling special to my dad who was mostly MIA in the garage building stuff and drinking from sunup to sundown. Sad, but I found a few ways to connect with him while watching football games or going camping when my mom stayed in camp and I went 'hunting' with dad (really hiking) in the early morning.
Sometimes when my mom lost her patience trying to comb my freshly washed waist-length hair (until I was permitted to cut it at age 12, which I promptly did!), my dad would take the comb and easily calm me while he patiently combed all the knots out and without one tear from me. Wonderful memories, but as an adult there was not much connection or me feeling special to my dad at all.
A second thing I realized by reading Shaer's article, is that to avoid feeling unpleasantly lonely, I need to be asked questions. It's apparently a human need. Shaer points out that people who feel depressed and lonely tend to exaggerate and feel "they're not worth talking to, that no one likes them, that they're not a good person and that it's all their fault....The brain is being hijacked."
I surely appreciate response to my questions. Ghosting just doesn't feel good to me. But response however brief, helps me feel important to the other person whom I value enough to ask a question of. But more so I need to feel that I matter because someone seeks my opinion. That could be the ego speaking, but so be it. We all have one, said Freud.
When it comes to music, being asked my opinion is particularly important because music has come to mean so much to me. That's true whether listening to it on YouTube, going to a small Groupmuse performance of one or a few musicians to share an intimate musical experience in a home or small cafe, or attending a grandiose and soaring Symphony concert where I can feel inspired. I also love to discuss music and its meaning and history, find and share a new woman composer whose compositions thrill me, or play music on my Duchess for myself or a few friends.
When I converse about music and am asked questions, I don't feel lonely, I feel happy, and I surmise that my brain does not get hijacked.
No matter how often or infrequently, I love discussing music with Ron, Joe, Bruce, Grace, and Jeanette, my significant and continuing friends in the musical world. I'll include Jordan, too, my fabulous fine artist friend who always has an opinion to offer on some artistic topic we discuss or question I present. I'm also always amazed at the kindness and responsiveness of Noa Kageyama who teaches at Julliard. Busy as he is, he always reads and briefly responds to a question I ask or a blog I send him even when I say "no reply needed." Even my therapist responds to a piece of music I love and think she will like, one I send her because I have discovered it independently or through the good graces of Bruce. He sometimes sends me pieces to consider and asks me questions about how I like them and what I note of importance.
When he questions me I feel happy. That's not only because he pushes me to listen and learn, but he listens to my response, further elucidates on it, or points out something different. Unless on rare occasion he moves too fast to dismiss someone or piece that has drawn my curiosity and attention but greatly displeases him, I readily keep my mind open and am always learning through our discussions.
I have a few other friends not in the musical world who also ask me a lot of questions over our years of friendship, and I always appreciate it and like to tell another story of my life, to which they carefully listen and sometimes respond. Men seem to be more reticent to answer if I ask about intimate matters like the stories of their lives or their feelings about those stories or music. But sometimes I am rewarded when they respond. Women friends are much more open about those matters, at least with me, and I feel rewarded when they share their stories and listen to mine. And I feel happy.
I also feel happy in the company of other guests attending and musicians who perform at small Groupmuse concerts. I realized that I'm happy because these mini-concerts bring me up close and personal with the friendly guests and performer(s), and create opportunities to socialize, discuss music, and make new friends afterwards. I've also had the additional benefit of finding two piano musical piece coaches from among the pianists I've met at a concert.
My neighbor feels the same way. Recently he said: "I particularly appreciate the opportunity to meet others attending Groupmuses, people who share a common love of music and with whom I otherwise I would not have the opportunity to interact."
Just like me, I'll bet those experiences also make him feel happy!
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