dear burner babes,
photo by Rebecca Baran Back in January 2011, I stumbled upon a study conducted by McGill University which caught the Associated Press’ attention, aptly entitled Music Rewards Brain Like Sex or Drugs. Articles like this are, of course, the holy grail of my internet timewasting-under-the-guise-of-being-learned sessions. I was intrigued. Reading on, I learned that researchers discovered that the act of listening to music, be it Beethoven or The Beatles, produces euphoria via dopamine release in the human brain in the same way that, say, a line of cocaine or a particularly intense orgasm would. While this study was (and is), without question, of huge importance to the scientific community, it
Before language was born, a woman pounded grains between two heavy rocks. The early morning sun shone through the leaves, dappling her child who played propped against a lichencovered log. She could almost see the dew evaporate in wisps around her. She found her groove, pounding the rocks in the perfect rhythm to evenly grind the grains. Rocking and rolling, working in a rhythm in synch with the worlds around her. A smile arose as she saw a speck on the horizon. Her man was returning from the dawn hunt with bounty. Happiness welled to the beat and, with an instinctual yelp of joy, she sang. The voice from this fabled Eve of music made the baby giggle. It travelled on the wind through the trees across the meadow away to her love’s ears,