One of my co-workers told me this morning that he can't listen to music because it makes him feel "scattered." He went on to say that, because I had played several different songs during his visit to my area, he'd have a difficult time concentrating on his paperwork when he returned home. "It's an honest to God truth," he said. "I've been that way my whole life."

I think I'd put a bullet in my head if that happened to me.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that music is like mother's milk to me. Hell, it's like Holy Communion, to the nth degree. There isn't anything else in the world that speaks to my spirit the way music does ... and I'm so thankful that something stirs me the way it does. Sure, I'm moved by beautiful art in any form ... but music -- there are no words. Music is sweet honey, bitter ginger, rich chocolate, warm tea, and cold beer. Music is air conditioning. Laughter. Tears. Sex. Passion. Satisfaction. Pain. Sadness. Glee. Determination. It's perseverance, tenacity, dogged resolve. It's ennui, ambivalence, acquiescence, and defeat. And it's success, pride, spirit, and realization of potential.

Play what you like, and listen to it often. Hit random, repeat, or just play it in album order. Who cares? Much like your personal relationship with your own spirituality, your musical preferences are all yours. What you like or don't like is entirely objective. And that's part of what makes it so damn beautiful. So turn it on and turn it up. And soak it in.