Interrupting Yoga: Possibly the Most Beautiful Song, Ever.

It is I think, as close to feeling a deep connection to God as I've ever felt through music...and yet it is a song written for romance not spirit......

For the past six months during cool down at the end of my instructor Michelle's muscle tone class at the Y and in the middle of a few of  the Y's Yoga classes, the instructors played an ethereal song that moved me into the highest place of peace and calm, a soothing, gentle and angelic lullaby that lays on me, and then moves into my cells.

I asked Michelle the name of this song I had to have, "I think it's by Bliss" she said sort of off-handedly. But after I tried to for an hour on Itunes I gave up. Weeks later during her yoga class she played it again and so thinking enough time passed to ask again, I did: the song, please, please give me the name of the song. 

Maybe because I asked during Yoga, a space where chatty interruption isn't encouraged, but Michelle dismissed me quickly, saying she'd get me the name after class, and then she moved on. But I left early that day, avoiding the most important pose in yoga, I'm told, a pose I "work" on because it's good to me, corpse, the space where we lie still, flat and relaxed for a few minutes, meditative, prayerful, spent and appreciative, a busy brain given a silent vacation I have a hard time taking, even after an hour of hard yoga.

That is what this song does for me, moving me to tears while relaxing me to calm. A paradox of eruptive emotion and unavoidable peace. 

Last week my song returned.  It was while I was downward dogging in Laurie's yoga class, a space she creates that's groovy, earthy and fluid because that's how Laurie moves and speaks, catlike and floaty, fit thin and stunning, agile and relaxed, her voice hard to hear as it  does not force or command our poses, it glides us into them if we choose.

Hearing the notes and purr of this song took me back to my singular obession with the melody: I must have it.

Laurie slid by my mat, her gentle touch easing a member's tense shoulder, massaging a tight neck for a brief second, lightly guiding a woman's awkward and strained attempt at half moon, quietly and non-reproachingly reminding us not to force poses but to move as our body feels it wants rather than as our ego insists it should, misting the room with a scent I cannot place, it's then I entered the room's soft silence and whispered almost inaudibly into Laurie's ear, "Who sings this?"

With a quick and terse tone uncharacteristic, Laurie whispered the name and artist to me, "Kelly Sweet, We Are One" and then like Michelle, was gone, her abrupt exit a message that while the song blended seamlessly with the intent of her class, my question, did not.

But still, I don't care, because like any obession, when you have to have it, you must.

Sadly however, like every song that gets into me I'll burn this one out soon, playing it so often that Kelly Sweet will lose her ability to evoke and stir me like today. I devour certain songs until there's nothing left to feel but a used up remnant of emotion, crumbs. This is a small price to pay I think for the moments when songs give us strong reactions, when they heighten feelings or unearth them, it's the gift until we habituate and the song becomes almost neutral to us.

Sometimes I can bring them back after a few years, sometimes I can't.

"Christmas Shoes" went extinct for me, that sweet sappy holiday story about the kid who wants to buy his dying mom a new pair of shoes before she's gone but can't afford it etc, etc, etc. Now if I hear it, I turn it off, that song  is the victim of playing it so often my CD is scratched. That sap dried up.

But, "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" by Roberta Flack, or "Butterfly Kisses" (which is still in the vein of sappy songs that usually wear out their welcome), have strong staying power for me, maybe because they bring me to my family.

"The First Time" was a song I put on a video music tribute for my husband's 40th birthday at his surprise party. I played it over pictures of Andy holding our baby daughter, a brand new dad, his face peering down almost covering hers.

"Butterfly Kisses" was when my daughter was three during her ballet recital, my little girl on the giant performing arts stage in her blue and pink tutu, courageous and sweet, holding her dad's hand, lined up with her troupe, the music played "walk me down the aisle Daddy it's just about time....." and so they walked, and so I cried....

Kelly Sweet's song We Are One song for many listeners will feel like words around romance, but for me it spoke of Spirit....of a connection to higher planes....

It is I think, as close to God as I've ever felt through music....

What does this the song feel like for you?

What songs stay with you no matter how many times you play them?

We Are One – Kelly Sweet

Didn't need to ask
Don't know the reason
Everything that I believe
Is right here

Not thinkin' bout tomorrow
Couldn't catch it if I tried
World is spinning too fast
So I'll wait 'til it comes to me

I am you
You are me
We are one
Take me in your arms
And flow through me
I'll flow through you

Steal my breath away
Cause I'm so moved by you
Deeper than I ever thought
Was possible, was possible, it's everything, oh

Difference between me and you
It's all in where your heart lies
And every day's another chance
So let's get it right

I am you
You are me
We are one
Take me in your arms
And flow through me
I'll flow through you

Did you lose yourself out there
Did you lose faith and give up
Don't turn away and hide yourself

Cause there's a friend to make along the way
We are the heartbeat and our souls speak
And all the beauty I have ever dreamed
Is right here in front of me, oh

Is right here in front of me, oh

I am you
And you are me
We are one
Take me in your arms
And flow through me
I'll flow through you