How to Survive a Tree Falling on You - Track #1

Well…It’s been a minute.

I wish I could say procrastination, laziness, or craziness at work prevented me from sharing music But I’m not that lucky.

Or maybe I am.

Four months ago, a tree fell on me.

If you want to know the details, I’m sure you can find them, but I don’t want to talk about that here. Here I just want to talk about music. Because I’ve been missing it.

It was hard for me to listen music in the ICU. Music became less of way to explore, but more of a way to maintain. It became the thing I used to distract me from the pain. It became the thing I used to give nurses a little respite in their intense day. It became the thing I used to drown out the man across the hall repeatedly shouting '“Heeeeeey! Heeeeeey! What about Meeeeee?” throughout the night…constantly reminding me of how miserable, and lucky, I was.

It was hard to explore new music at home in a wheelchair. Instead, I listened to my favorite playlists on repeat - hoping they would help bring some comfort and familiarity to a situation that made me feel so uneasy.

It was hard.

All of it.

So. Fucking. Hard.

Then Jen sent me a playlist.

Her “Mixed Emotions/2022 Winter Survival” Playlist. (Honestly, I don’t know if a playlist title has spoken to me so perfectly.)

It was giving.

All the vibes.

But when I got to this track…

I don’t know…

It was liked something clicked.

I started playing it on repeat.

I started listening to the whole album.

I started listening to other new albums.

I started making new playlists.

I started exploring music again.

I don’t know what it was about this track. I mean SZA + Phoebe Bridgers is epic but it was more than that. It was the strings. It was the beat. It was the ethereal background vocals. But more than anything it was hearing “humanity” in the chorus and having it have a different meaning every fucking time.

Like I had never really understood the word “humanity” before.

Or maybe it had new meaning in todays world.

Or maybe for a girl who left her wheelchair, scooted her butt upstairs, and took a shower for the first time months, “humanity” had new meaning.

Maybe for a girl who cried uncontrollably to her friend that night, for what felt like hours, “humanity” felt fucking real.

Maybe for a girl who was scared she had lost her connection with music, “humanity” was the catalyst that let her know the connection was still there.