I’m not a sad person. My day to day demeanor is bouncy, energetic, and at times filled with uncontrollable laughter because someone made an “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” reference.
But I am human, and yes, I do become sad sometimes.
I’m usually not one to wallow in depression, but sometimes, when the situation is really bad, there’s no better therapy then lying down on my bed, putting on my headphones, and blasting some Coldplay.
My sister would say I’m “letting my emotional wounds fester” all because I’m medicating my sadness by listening to someone else’s torment. I call it nurturing, she calls it wallowing.
Regardless of how one views coping with dark feelings, one thing is certain: it sure does create some beautiful art.
I like to consider myself as an artistic type, and usually my inspiration springs upon me erratically. However, I must admit, in my times of solitude — when I’m going through a particularly difficult situation — that’s when I produce my most creative work. It’s the beauty in depression, and I see it most when it’s from an artist who creates music.
Last year, an article was published on WebMD by Tim Wooten titled “Depression is Beautiful”. A Koan, as the article explained, is “a fundamental part of the Zen practice and is thought to help people to see much deeper into themselves”. Essentially, the article proposed the idea that depression is a koan for mindfulness — a chance to see into ourselves.
The idea sounds promising, so I wanted to conduct a little experiment to test his theory.
Scrolling through my iPod this morning, I noticed how many “sad” songs I had. If their lyrics weren’t necessarily sad, the tune was. Did this make me a dark person? Only if one considers prolonged thinking about human action to be dark.
First on my list was Frank Ocean’s album Channel Orange. I set my phone to shuffle through the track and began making my breakfast.
Let me give a brief introduction on Frank Ocean’s music.
Frank (I’ll use his first name because his music is so special to me) has always been one of my favorite artists, but I’ve never really been able to describe his music to other people. My friend created the perfect analogy, saying Frank’s music is similar to swimming aimlessly through a large body of water and analyzing each piece of coral for its individual beauty.
Though he creates the most eloquent music, his lyrics are often tainted with dark and confused thoughts regarding religion, society, and most recently, his sexuality.
Until a couple of weeks ago, Frank was plunged into the heterosexual category with other RnB artists. His lyrics in his mix tapes were addressing women, so many female fans safely assumed that their favorite singer was secretly serenading them. However, Frank came out on his Tumblr page that there was a time in his life when he fell in love with a man.
Channel Orange is heavily influenced by this relationship not only with a man, but also with God.
One song in particular, titled Bad Religion, translates this inner struggle perfectly. So strong even, I had to stop making my oatmeal and think exactly what this man was singing about.
To sum it up, Frank starts a dialogue with a taxi driver about the conflict between what his religion has taught him about universal love and how it conflicts with homosexuality being seen as a sin. I couldn’t help but to think how my past support with LGBT rights could easily conflict with my Christian beliefs, or at least how what I’m supposed to believe as a Christian.
As I stood there, mid-stir with my oatmeal, I zoned out. I began assessing my life and my faith. Then my mother entered into the room and reminded me that I needed to go to work.
Wooten’s theory was correct. There is beauty in depression if we are willing to look into ourselves and not fear what may be buried deep in the subconscious. So if the next time you want to reach for an iPod and play a deep, probing song to reflect your inner torment, go for it. Do it even if you’re happy, because you may find an inner truth about yourself that never even crossed your mind. There’s always beauty in that.
— Victoria Wright is a junior in journalism and electronic media. She can be reached at vwright6@utk.edu.
