Once you are sick of a song -- or if you can’t remember why you first fell in love with it – you just don’t want to dance to it anymore. If that music doesn’t inspire you to move, you start to feel as if your shoes were made of lead. It’s hard to tread lightly or to even pick up your foot to go forward.
However, sometimes you can change your perception of the song. You might hear a drum or sax thread in it that you really hadn’t noticed before. Or you can perceive a depth in the music that at first you may not have appreciated. You might try to do a new movement to an old song that makes it fresh again.
You can’t force yourself to love a song. There is a certain chemistry between you and the melody that’s ephemeral and not explainable. Once you get tired of a song, if you can’t appreciate different things about it or re-capture your synchronicity, it is difficult to move to its beat. If your movement supports the song and the song supports your movement, there is mutual reverence and love, so your appreciation can grow. Repetition brings familiarity and familiarity can breed deeper understanding, love and respect.
If you don’t listen to the music while you are dancing (or feel its beat) you will be either ahead of it or behind it—you will not be in sync. This is like thinking about what you are going to say while the other person is trying to communicate – you just won’t really hear what he is saying.
Familiar songs can evoke deep emotions. Listen to Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World.” I defy you to be unemotional.
Old songs that we love go deep into our hearts. We may forget to appreciate the songs we are familiar with, but the experience of hearing and appreciating them again, can renew us.
Love never dies; it’s the only thing that’s real.
It’s the same with relationships. Sometimes it’s essential to go your own way, but it is also healing and inspirational to remember why you first fell in love – even if you’ve moved on.