Ok, so the thing I hate most is being judged. I mean, if you know me exceptionally well, then judge away…I will probably appreciate it. But don’t you dare know a tiny bit about me and judge me on the assumption that’s who I am.
On that basis, I have to admit that I’m a hypocrite! I do it all the time….particularly in one area. From this day forward I vow to never judge anyone on their taste in music. Well….I will at least try. 😉
My daughters were brought up exactly the same. The Protester has a special playlist we listen to in the car and the music is great. It’s amazing how quickly every failed-parent moment is replaced by pride for the 2 minutes and 54 seconds that the Protester sings along to the Violent Femmes at the top of her voice. It’s equally amazing how sad you can be when the Princess says to please turn it off and put on something she likes instead. So….Princess, I am sorry. I will no longer judge you on your inability to appreciate the music I like. Listen to what you love and enjoy it. 🙂
I’m getting side-tracked, as usual…there’s a point to this and I’m getting there!
The story I am about to tell is my lesson in why I shouldn’t judge others’ tastes. It’s a story I replay in my mind whenever the Protester drives me completely mad and frustrates the hell out of me. A lesson in how powerful music can be to each and every one of us.
Now the Protester has always had pretty cool taste in music (except for that brief, crazy One Direction month), so you can imagine my horror when for her 15th birthday she asked to see Angus and Julia Stone…a particularly downbeat and boring duo (in my humble opinion). The Protester was not in a great place at this time and I would’ve moved mountains to make her happy, so off we toddle to see Angus and Julia! After a day of high anxiety where I thought several times that the Protester would vomit, we sit ourselves down at this rather intimate gig, surrounded by stoners and hipsters, suffer through a mind-numbing support band…..and wait for what my daughter just has to see and hear. I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed them once they came on….I didn’t hate it, but the excitement level for me was pretty low. Just when I thought I would go to sleep, IT happened! I looked over at the Protester sitting next to me….and she had tears rolling down her face! So overwhelmed by emotion during a song that meant so much to her that she allowed it to spill out. My sad, angry little girl felt that song…..and a light shone out of her so bright, and she looked so beautiful, that tears flowed from me too. That was a defining moment for me. Not only in regards to my daughter, but indeed to the power of music and that even though some of it means nothing to me…it can mean everything to someone else.
It’s a timely reminder to me to leave preconceived ideas and judgments at the door.
Although I can’t bear to hear Adele say Hello, or listen to a cowboy sing about how lonely he and his dog are….I think I’m at a place where I could probably take myself off to the Gympie Muster and have a ball! Not because I would enjoy the music, but because everyone around me would. To be be surrounded by people that love what they hear, to be immersed in it, to shine they’re own light? To bask in that would be pretty cool, don’t you think?
Don’t stop believing. xx