The Sound of Healing

being still & learning to hear the world’s music—in all its most beautiful forms

This weekend, I went to a Billy Strings show at Orion Amphitheater in Huntsville, Alabama—and y’all, it was such a beautiful night, I knew I’d be writing about it. I couldn’t have crafted a more perfect evening if I was able to do it by hand. I’ve been to concerts before—many times, actually—but this particular night just hit different. The weather was crisp, stars dotted the black sky, and a harvest moon hung low over the outdoor theater, casting a glow over everything.

As the music filled the air, I felt it move through my chest, and for the first time, I truly lost myself in it. For the next few hours, my love and I danced, completely in tune with the moment. I felt like a bird that was freed from a cage, my soul was so happy to be there.

But then it struck me—-why, after so many similar moments in life, did this one feel so big, so beautiful? Why did it fill my heart in a way that nothing else ever had?

There was something deeper happening, something I couldn’t quite explain at first. And I realized it wasn’t just the music or the perfect weather, or even being wrapped in my boyfriends arms. It’s because for the first time in perhaps my whole adult life, I am able to be utterly present. Fully there, in the moment, ready to receive what the world has to offer. I breathed it all in from the depths of my chest and I felt like my heart might explode.

For years, I’ve been running from one thing to the next, in a perpetual state of fight or flight. Always trying to stay just ahead of whatever pain or fear lurked around me. Being present was far too risky for my heart. I avoided that place at all costs—in the quiet, I felt everything I was avoiding might catch up with me and pounce. My crumbling marriage, my fears as a parent, the perpetual financial pressure…looming behind me like some car on the interstate, swerving wildly and flashing its lights.

But healing has a way of slowing you down, of forcing you to stop and be still. To reckon with the demons you’ve been keeping at bay, to stare them down until you know all their names. And I have to tell you, rock bottom really isn’t so bad. Once you get there, and settle into the depths. There’s a peace that comes when your world burns down, and you heal your way from the ashes.

You can finally be still—because your worst fears were realized, and guess what?

They didn’t destroy you.

It’s in that stillness, that new healed place, where the world can become so damn magical. You notice things you never had time for before—how the sky seems to stretch wider, the moonlight seems softer, and the music becomes more alive. Colors are richer. Sounds more vibrant. Like your soul is experiencing spring.

I’ve come to realize that a healing journey isn’t just about feeling better. It’s about seeing, hearing, and feeling life with more clarity and fullness than ever before. I was always so scared, trying to outrun my past, so desperately trying to control the future. For decades, that fear sucked the marrow from life and stole away most of its beauty. Over time, my soul went into a sort of hibernation just to survive what my body was doing.

I wasn’t dead, but I was dead to the world.

That is, until grief ripped me open.

When my marriage fell apart, my soul woke up screaming. And the crazy thing is, I’m so grateful. This year was the hard reset that I needed, to have my cord ripped away from the wall. To wait ten seconds before plugging back in.

Now my lights have come flickering back on.

The world opens up when you’re in the process healing, and it has a way of pulling you into it. I used to laugh at people who spent their time watching birds. Now, I pause and enjoy their songs. I used to get bored in small moments of silence, now I sit down and watch every sunset. I adore how the clouds spread color through the sky, stretching light out in golden-pink waves. I used to enjoy casually listening to music, now I hold its vibrations in my chest.

Moments like these, moments I used to rush past, have become places where I truly feel alive again.

I used to think healing would be about fixing everything that was broken, but it’s more about accepting the cracks and appreciating the fragments of light that come bursting through them. Healing is about being in your skin, right now, feeling the world as it moves around you. Recognizing the beauty in things you once ignored, and soaking up every moment.

Healing was never about fixing or rushing or trying to control what’s next. It’s about learning to be still long enough to hear the world’s music—in all its most beautiful forms. It’s about standing still, letting life wash over you, and realizing that in this moment, everything is as it should be.

The music, the birds, the clouds, my family—they’ve been there, and they’ve always been beautiful. They were just waiting for me to stop long enough to hear them.

And I’m grateful to finally be listening.

Dear readers,

Writing is my livelihood, and it means the world to me that you’re here. I will always keep my writing paywall free, because I don’t feel like there should be a barrier for receiving encouragement. But for those who choose the paid support option, thank you for keeping my lights on.

Not just in my little house, but inside my heart, as well.

Love,

Mary Katherine