Music of the Spirit

What if the still small voice spoke to you through soundtracks?

When my primary teachers told me that the Holy Ghost spoke as a still, small voice or a burning in the bosom, I was always confused. Since the day I was confirmed, I experienced the Spirit as music—a soundtrack constantly playing to fit whatever circumstances I’m in. A quick-paced brassy theme to warn of danger. A high flute trill to accompany an epiphany. Once, when I despaired at a tough AP World History essay question, the final boss theme from a video game played in my mind. A boss that had taken me days to conquer. I sat for a moment, gathering the resolve I’d used in my many attempts, then tackled the question. I happily received a B+.

No one else can hear this soundtrack. That is, until test day in Spanish 3. I’d confidently turned in my unit one test with five minutes to spare and was packing up my binder. My classmates chatted in a low hum as we waited for the bell to dismiss us—except for Robin, seated in the next row over. They rarely spoke outside of conversation practice, but this time, they leaned over the bar anchoring their chair to the desk and whispered to me. “Do you have to play a fanfare whenever you turn in a test?”

A record scratched through my mind and I nearly dropped my binder. “You heard that?” I hadn’t been humming along with it, had I?

Robin raised their eyebrow with a silver piercing. “Kinda hard to miss.”

“I’m sorry.” My cheeks burned. I must have been humming. The theme song from Pink Panther started to run through my head, though in a lower register than the usual tenor sax. What that was supposed to mean, I had no clue.

“Is that ‘Pink Panther’ on the tuba?”

I just stared in answer. Robin played tuba in band. Of course they’d recognize that instrument.

“Look, you may have accommodations, but headphones will keep you from being distracting.” The bell rang and they shot out the door without waiting for a reply.

This was definitely not me humming.