Reclaiming What’s Been Left Behind
The Beat That Keeps Me Grounded
There’s something about winter that makes me nostalgic. Maybe it’s the quiet moments, the way time feels slower, or the pull to reflect on what’s shaped me. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the sounds that have always been with me—the music that carried me through childhood and taught me more about connection and legacy than I realized at the time.
My dad’s car rides smelled like leather seats and autobody paint, with Wu-Tang Clan and Biz Markie shaking the speakers. Long drives to his job as a custom auto painter on weekends in my early years meant I got a crash course in rap and hip-hop—the beats, the snarky lyrics, the unapologetic truth-telling, the activation of a community to improve its legacy. It planted the seed for my love of boldness in all its forms and my understanding that “just because you heard it doesn’t mean you should repeat it".
Meanwhile, at home, my mom was the conductor of a full-day soundtrack of 70s–90s R&B and pop. From sunrise to sunset, she had Anita Baker, SWV, Prince, After-7, and even Carlos Santana filling the house. She showed me how the old could inspire the new, how soul and creativity evolve together. It’s also why I can recite more song lyrics than I can recall childhood movies—and why I love a voice that doesn’t need autotune. (RIP, Mom)
Then there was my grandma. My birthday twin. My safe haven when I was tired of tagging along with my dad at work. She gave me the roots and origins of Black music: Motown, Al Green, records on her old-school player, The Box on TV (if you’re over 35 and from Washington, DC or The DMV as a whole you know) and, of course, Soul Train and Showtime at the Apollo. She made sure I knew where it all started and that the history of music was our history. (RIP, Grandma)
Somewhere along the way, though, I left music on my life’s backseat. Life got loud in other ways, and music became background noise instead of the lifeline it had been. It wasn’t until I reflected on what brings me joy during the Restore and Reset: Winter Well-Being Series that I realized how much I missed it.
Since then, I’ve made a conscious effort to let music take up space in my life again. Playlists inspire my workdays. A good beat keeps me grounded while decluttering. Belting out “lovely day” to Bill Withers makes washing dishes enjoyable for my stepdaughter. “Baby shark” keeps my son still and smiling just a little longer during diaper changes. Concerts and new albums are now viewed as family rituals.
What about you? What’s been waiting in the background of your life, ready to take center stage again? Sometimes, the things we “lose” are just waiting for us to notice them again.
If reconnecting with what lights you up resonates, Restore and Reset can guide you to rediscover the sparks you didn’t know you’d left behind.
Warmly,
India Tizol - she/her (formerly Jackson)
I respectfully acknowledge that I live and work on the ancestral lands of the Piscataway and Anacostan peoples (Maryland & Washington, DC). This acknowledgment is deeply personal, as I honor my siblings who are descendants of the Piscataway people and their shared history. As a descendant of enslaved African people, I am committed to honoring the histories that brought us here and reflecting on the ongoing impacts of colonialism on Indigenous peoples, the enslaved, native creatures, and natural ecosystems.
This letter may contain affiliate links. This means if you click & choose to make a purchase, I may receive "thank you compensation" at no additional cost to you. Sometimes you'll also receive a discount or bonus for using the specific links I provide. I only recommend products & services that I enjoy. I appreciate your support!