I have a confession to make. One night, sitting around the dinner table at a friend’s house, we got into one of those unexpectedly deep conversations — the kind that starts casually and ends up somewhere soulful. The question was simple:
What are the great loves of your life?

When it was my turn, I didn’t hesitate. I said:

• My family — my husband, my cats, my people.
• Traveling, especially internationally. There’s something about being far from home that brings me closer to myself.
• And then… Pearl Jam.

Yes, Pearl Jam. The 90s grunge band known for songs like “Jeremy” and with a recent surge in popularity due to their songs being featured on “The Last of Us.”
That one got some laughs and a few surprised nods. But I meant it — and I still do.

My Love Affair with Pearl Jam (and the ’90s)

I was 16 when Smells Like Teen Spirit was released, and grunge music became the soundtrack of a generation that didn’t quite fit in. There was something raw, unfiltered, and emotionally alive in those chords — especially in Pearl Jam. Eddie Vedder’s voice wasn’t just singing to me. It felt like it was singing me.

Over the years, I’ve seen Pearl Jam live more times than I can count — across three continents. I’ve stood in crowds in different countries, letting the music pulse through me like electricity. And no matter where I was, the feeling was always the same:
Freedom. Joy. Belonging. Aliveness.

There’s a moment in every concert where I forget about everything else. I don’t care how I look. I’m not worried about emails or deadlines. I’m not holding my breath or managing anyone’s emotions. I’m just there.
Fully in it. Fully me.

The lights. The bass thumping in my chest. The way the crowd sings every word like a prayer. It’s visceral. Alive. Sacred. And honestly? I wish I could bring that version of me — the version who’s belting lyrics and swaying with strangers — into more parts of my everyday life.

Music as Medicine

Science backs this up: music isn’t just entertaining — it’s healing.

When we listen to music we love, especially music that evokes strong emotion or memory, our brain releases dopamine, the feel-good neurotransmitter associated with pleasure and reward. But it goes deeper than that.

Listening to calming music or sounds — like instrumental pieces, certain frequencies (like 432 Hz or binaural beats), or nature soundscapes — can:

• Activate the parasympathetic nervous system (rest-and-digest)
• Lower cortisol levels (reducing stress)
• Slow the heart rate and respiratory rate
• Stimulate the vagus nerve, which supports regulation and emotional balance

Even singing or humming can have a similar effect. The vibrations created in the vocal cords activate the vagus nerve directly — which is why mantras, chants, and communal singing have been used across cultures for centuries.

Music as Memory

Music isn’t just about the now. It’s a portal to the past. For me, hearing Given to Fly — my all-time favorite Pearl Jam song — doesn’t just trigger a dopamine hit. It transports me. I’m in my early 20s again, full of dreams and contradictions, windows down, music loud. I feel everything she felt — the wonder, the ache, the hope, the fire.

And yet… I also feel who I am now. A woman in her 50s who’s still growing, still feeling, still learning how to belong to herself. Music connects these versions of me. It reminds me that I’ve always been here — evolving, but still me. One of the most profound musical moments I remember wasn’t even at a concert. It was alone in my car, after a tough therapy session, and Black came on. I pulled over and cried the entire way through. Not because I was sad, exactly — but because the music gave me permission to feel. To release. To come home to myself.

Music as Resistance and Resilience

There’s another layer to my love of music that I’ve only started to fully understand in recent years: music as resistance. When I was younger, blasting Pearl Jam or Nirvana wasn’t just about mood or melody — it was about claiming space. It was about refusing to shrink myself. It was about saying, “I matter, even if I don’t fit the mold.” The music I loved gave voice to feelings that were often too messy, too loud, too complicated to say out loud.

And now, as an adult woman navigating systems that still don’t always know what to do with strong, sensitive people, that soundtrack still gives me strength. It’s not just nostalgia — it’s a lifeline.

We often talk about music as self-care or as a healing balm (which it is), but let’s not forget that it can also be a form of protest. A way of staying soft in a hard world. A way of saying, “I’m still here. I’m still singing.”

Sound Healing and Somatic Practice

Beyond lyrical music, there’s also a growing field of sound healing — using vibration and frequency to support physical and emotional healing. While research is still evolving, many practices have shown promise:

• Tuning forks: Calibrated to specific frequencies to regulate energy or promote focus
• Singing bowls: Used in meditation or yoga for their calming resonance
• Binaural beats: Two tones played in each ear at slightly different frequencies, creating a third perceived tone that supports focus, sleep, or relaxation
• Drumming or rhythmic sound: Studies show rhythmic auditory stimulation can support trauma integration, especially in communal or ritual settings

This might be why Eddie Vedder’s deep voice is so calming to me. In the end, it’s less about what’s “proven” and more about what works for you. Your nervous system will tell you.

Where Sound Lives in My Life

When I think about my own healing, sound shows up in small, quiet ways:

• Lo-fi beats while writing
• Cat purrs next to me on the couch
• Voice memos from friends
• A song on repeat that matches my mood
• Live music — not just because of the sound, but because of what it lets me access in myself

Sometimes sound is loud and triumphant. Sometimes it’s soft and subtle. But it’s always there, offering a way back to the body, back to presence, back to self.

This Week’s Practice: Reconnect to Sound

Each week, I offer a practice not as a prescription, but as an invitation. Here's what I'm exploring right now:

🎧 Sound-Tracking

For one day this week, I’m tuning into the soundtrack of my day. Noticing:

• What sounds calm me?
• What sounds irritate me?
• What sounds make me feel more like myself?

I jot down a few notes. Not to judge — just to notice.

Personal Power Song

I’ve chosen Given to Fly as my personal anthem this week. Every time I play it, I pause — for 3 minutes — and let myself feel it. Let it move through me. Let it remind me of who I’ve always been.

I ask myself:
How can I bring this version of me — the one who sings at the top of her lungs and doesn't care what anyone thinks — into the rest of my day?

Sound healing doesn’t have to mean curated playlists or expensive sound baths. Here are a few simple ideas:

• Put on a song that brings you back — to your childhood, your college years, or last summer’s road trip
• Hum for 60 seconds — even if it feels silly. Feel the vibration in your chest
• Listen to ambient sound — the wind, the birds, the hum of the fridge. Let it ground you
• Sing in the shower or in the car. No one’s listening but you

What I’m Loving This Week – Healing Sound Edition

• Sound: My 90s rock playlists on Spotify — a nostalgic blend of Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, and Alanis Morissette that transports me right back to my most alive, angsty, and fully-feeling self.
• Practice: Rolling down the windows and singing my favorite song as loud as I can while driving. No judgment. No holding back. Just me and the music.
• Tool: A tiny waterproof Bluetooth speaker for my morning shower concerts — because the acoustics are amazing, and no one can hear me anyway.
• Quote: “Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.”
  — Victor Hugo
• Song: “Given to Fly” – Pearl Jam
  Incredible amp. Still my #1. Still reminds me who I am.

Final Reflection

Healing isn’t always big and dramatic. Sometimes, it’s a single note, a favorite lyric, a vibration in your chest that says, “You’re still here.” Sometimes, it’s a song you’ve played a thousand times — and it still knows how to reach you.

So here’s the question I’m asking myself this week, and I invite you to ask it too:
What’s the song that brings you back to yourself — and how can you let that version of you take up a little more space this week?

Coming Next Week:

Embodying Compassion through Affirmation
Because once the music clears the air, we get to choose what voice we use next — and I want mine to be a kind one.

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