“I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.” William James
It is an odd spring day for this week. The sun is out. It’s been raining for a week, or so it seems. Thus, collectively we’ve been a bit in the dumps. With the sun out today, I imagine people are feeling a bit of a sense of rebirth and rejuvenation.
Today, with the light breeze and the shining sun, I was taken back momentarily to two years ago when we didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. I recall walking to work everyday with a mask on seeining the same few people each morning. Some would acknowledge each other’s presence; other’s were just lost in their own worlds.
While I walked to work masked, I used to sing loudly down the streets. There were not that many people around and even still, with the masks on, who would know who the singer was. In a way, it was oddly freeing.
It may have seemed as if I were inappropriately happy. Wait, is there such a thing? However, I not only singing because I was happy, but I was happy because I was singing. I was happy in song and step. I found comfort in my self-expression. I found comfort in connecting with the wind. It may sound a bit cheesy. Try it and see. I assure you, it won’t hurt.
Categories: Culture, identity, mental health, new york, Psychology, society
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