Dispatch #13: The Mix-Tape of Me

Tuning-in, Instead of Tuning-out

When I was a teenager in the halcyon days of the 1980s, a new electronic device burst on the scene seemingly over night: the Sony Walkman. People were crazed about these nifty gadgets that let you tune in to your favorite tunes while strutting your stuff in spandex and leg warmers.

I was a proud owner of the yellow sports version, which I clipped to the high waistband of my acid-washed jeans as I roamed the hallways during my senior year of high school. Since these electronic devises were considered contraband, I surreptitiously hid it under the pink cloak of Members Only jacket.

My father, who was born in 1925, did not get it. He did not want to buy me one. His reluctance was partly because they retailed at $100 “a pop” (as he would say). However, I think his main concern was the effect that walking around with headphones blaring music in my ears might have on my hearing and on what I could hear.

“Why would you want those things on your ears? You won’t be able to hear the birds.”

Back then, the songs of birds didn't compare to the songs of humans. I don’t recall if my father or mother (they were divorced) eventually caved in and bought this portable stereo for me. However, I do recall that it was my mother who bought me the pink Members Only jacket (thanks Mom!). As a teen, wearing that jacket, the funky jeans, and the Walkman was a trifecta of cool. I was “Walking on Sunshine” to quote a super popular 1980s song.

What added to the reverie of wearing a Walkman was it allowed us GenXers to revel in one of our favorite pastimes: producing the mix tape! If you’re a generation older or younger than I am, you might not know what I’m talking about. Mix tapes were the joint (something that was cool) when I was growing up.

I’d use my brothers’ stereo with dual cassette players and slip the “album” with the tunes I wanted into one and a blank tape in the other. Then I’d play the tune I wanted and record it on the blank tape. Remove the album cassette, replace with another one and repeat. It could take me a couple of hours to get all the desired tracks recorded and then I’d write the titles for side A and side B on the paper insert.

Just like in my high school, it’s against the shingi (the standards that guide the monastic community) to wear headphones and listen to music while strolling through the monastery grounds. We’re also asked not to listen to music or watch videos while in our rooms. We’re asked to drop entertainment mind—the urge to alleviate so-called boredom or psycho-emotional discomfort by distracting ourselves with words, music, and images.

For some people, it’s difficult for them not to listen to music. For me, I find that I don’t miss listening to music nearly as much as I miss watching movies. Though every now and then I do crave dancing to my favorite ‘80s tunes that comprised my mix-tapes:

1. “Genius of Love” by The Tom Tom Club

2. “Close to Me” by The Cure (back in the day of the definite article)

3. “Sledgehammer” by Peter Gabriel

4. “Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran

5. “Push It” by Salt-N-Pepa

6. “99 Luftballons” by Nena

7. “Rapture” by Blondie

8. “Take on Me” by A-ha

9. “Rock Me Amadeus” by Falco

10. “Set It Off” by Strafe (I had to look this one up as I never knew who sang this underground hit!)

11. “I Melt With You” by Modern English

12. “Love My Way” by Psychedelic Furs

13. “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow

14. “Back to Life (However Do You Want Me)” by Soul II Soul

15. “Kiss” by Prince

I got a little carried away going down memory lane! So I’ll stop with Prince’s super funky, sexy, upbeat, mega-hit. So what do 1980s mix-tapes of my youth have to do with my present middle-aged Zen Buddhist self?! Great question. Here’s where I’m going with this.

When suffering is present, when the body-mind is contracted and agitated, it’s often because we’re plugged in to the mix-tape of me. These are the stories that the mind plays over and over again telling us who we are, how we should act or not act, what we should be, how life should be, how other people should be, etc., ad nauseum. The repetition of these narratives and our identification with them (our belief that they are true and that they are who were are) drains our life force, distorts reality, and often causes harm.

Strongly believing these arising narratives and concomitant emotions-sensation is the process of suffering, which is the process of selfing. However, since the mix-tape of me often plays unnoticed in the background—like the radio in another room—we are often unaware of how we’re being affected by this mix-tape of me. This is why the daily practice of meditation is imperative if we’re going to notice these narratives and awaken from their false realities.

Routinely practicing meditation is akin to pressing the pause button on the mix-tape of me. When we decide to sit down and quietly stare at the wall, we begin to become more intimate with the “lyrics” of our favorite narratives. Placing the mind’s attention on the inhale, the pause at the “top,” the exhale, and the pause at the “bottom” helps to interrupt what feels like one continuous stream of thinking. Or another way to say this is focusing on the breathing sensations helps us to drop our fascination with the thinking mind—that played out mix-tape of me—so we can tune in to the songs of the birds resonating through our heart-mind.

Ah, my beloved Members Only jacket. I wish I still had mine to sport at the monastery!