Music. Music. Music. We are blessed, it seems, with the ability to hear and create music. Most of my life has been filled with the stuff. My parents loved it and so I grew up in a house filled with music and the love of it. I was taken to concerts on occasion and educated further in the magic rhythms. I have an extensive music collection, on vinyl, 1/4 inch reel to reel, cassette, CD and now on my computer's hard drives. My mother even has some of hers on lacquer 78 R.P.M. disks, wherein resides one of my favorite recordings of all, "Love Me or Leave Me," by a very young Sammi Davis, Jr.
But lately I've found that I don't listen to music as I used to. I don't have it on all the time, selecting the mood I want to be in and then programing myself through the disks or tracks that I inject into my consciousness stream modulation channels.
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