"What might become of my sadness?"

Emotional modulations & discovering freedom

On February 23, I was sitting innocently in my office at Belmont when Kelsey sent me a song by Mr. Rogers. My team was about to jump into a multi-day event—the biggest one of the year—and I was getting ready to walk to our first bit of programming. I thought, “Awww, Mr. Rogers! This will be a sweet, warm and fuzzy start to this long day.”

Reader, I was unprepared.

In a record one minute and forty-nine seconds, Mr. Rogers proceeded to reach across decades and into my chest, break my heart in half, and then politely stitch it back together. The song was called “The Truth Will Make Me Free.”

It begins with a simple set of questions: “What if I were very, very sad, and all I did was smile? I wonder, after a while, what might become of my sadness? What if I were very, very angry, and all I did was sit and never think about it? What might become of my anger?” From there, Mr. Rogers wonders in two directions, first imagining a scenario in which his feelings never find expression, then imagining another in which he discovers the truth of his feelings and finds freedom.

After Kelsey and I had thoroughly obsessed over this arrestingly compact work of musical and lyrical genius, we re-watched the Mr. Rogers documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor. I was struck by the footage of a young Mr. Rogers at the very beginning of the film. He sits at his piano and muses about “emotional modulations:”

It seems to me that…one of my main jobs is to help children through some of the difficult modulations of life. Because it’s easy, for instance, to go from C to F. But there are some modulations that aren’t so easy; for instance, to go from F to F#, you’ve got to weave through all sorts of things. And it seems to me if you’ve got somebody to help you as you weave—maybe this is just too philosophical…

In the Belcourt when Kelsey and I first saw this film, she nudged me and said, “It’s you.” I confess that this made me feel proud. If I want to be like anyone, it’s Mr. Rogers. And his using music theory as an analogy for the emotional terrain of childhood? Yes, please. More, please.

And for the record, no, Mr. Rogers, you were not being too philosophical! (Although I’m really not the person you should ask about that.) I’d love nothing more than to get philosophical with you. So let’s do it. Let’s talk about modulation.

The first stanza of lyrics, the one wondering what would happen if the narrator’s emotions couldn’t find expression, takes place in the key of G. The next two lines imagine a scary future in which the narrator might “fall, maybe get sick, or doubt” as a result. These lines modulate rapidly, taking us briefly through the key of C before pivoting to the second half of the song.

This second half begins in a relaxed voicing of Bb, our new key. From here, Mr. Rogers entertains the possibility of giving his emotion true expression by “learning to sing a sad song when I’m sad” or “learning to say I’m angry when I’m very mad.” The song finds its final home in this musical landscape with the closing line: “discovering truth will make me free.”

My first experience of modulation in music was nothing like this. It was a simple elevating of the key, up by either a half or whole step. Now don’t get me wrong—in pop music, this can be a ton of fun (look no further than the classic ending of Beyoncé’s “Love On Top” which absolutely slaps). But more often than not, these key changes feel like cheap attempts at evoking an emotional response in the listener that the song hasn’t earned. The modulation isn’t baked into the song itself, but rather tacked on as a bit of decoration, and usually a disingenuous one at that. (As a listener, I’m left feeling like Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Alexander Hamilton: “Don’t modulate the key then not debate with me!”)

By contrast, “The Truth Will Make Me Free” is old-school modulation at its best. It’s exactly what Mr. Rogers mused about at his piano bench: a challenging transition from one set of aural surroundings to another, held together by a guiding melody.

I believe that at their heart, modulations in music teach us something very crucial, and they do so in the most magical of ways, bypassing our thinking brains and affecting us viscerally. Modulations teach us that no matter where we wander off to, there is nowhere we can go that is not part of a larger whole. We may feel as if we’ve “arrived” in a certain key and will stay there forever, but we’re always only ever one step—or even one half-step—away from a new, unfamiliar world. All of music, every last note, belongs. All of life belongs.

I’m fluent in my own inner intellectual and emotional landscape. I could go on and on. What I’m less fluent in is my body—the way my arms, legs, jaw, spine, and everything else can drop hints about what’s going on in my soul. When Kelsey and I re-watched Won’t You Be My Neighbor, I found myself noticing how Mr. Rogers entered and occupied a room with children on a physical level. In short, he listened, not just intellectually, but with his body. He oriented himself, from head to toe, toward the child speaking to him. With his body language, he assumed the role of a guest in the child’s space. Often, he would absorb the emotional energy of the child, permitting them to enter their own imaginations as they spoke, wriggle around, tap their toes, and generally take up space.

It got me thinking about my own emotions and how they’ve shown up in my body throughout my life. What is the truth they’ve been trying to tell me?

I remembered my parents poking fun at me when I was in high school, eating meals at the table together. When I ate something I loved, I would involuntarily rock side to side. I totally still do that.

I remembered my old habit of chewing my tongue whenever I’m concentrating deeply—in fact I just caught myself doing that now.

I remembered a patch of skin on my left thumb that I picked at so much in middle school that it developed a callus. It still feels different to the touch than my right thumb.

I remembered how prone I am to chills down my spine while listening to music, what a “major weepah” (The Holiday quote, IYKYK) I am with any kind of art, and how I cry way more often when encountering beauty than when feeling sad.

These are just a few of the ways my body has given expression to my emotion, ways that it has tried to tell a truth that might make me free if I listen.

What is the truth of your own experience that’s trying to make you free? What are some life modulations that, challenging as they were, gave you an opportunity to encounter and express those truths?

What if we could know the truth and say just how we feel? I think we’d learn a lot that’s real about freedom.

What if I were very, very sad
And all I did was smile?
I wonder, after a while,
What might become of my sadness?

What if I were very, very angry
And all I did was sit
And never think about it,
What might become of my anger?

Where would they go, what would they do
If I couldn’t let them out?
Maybe I’d fall, maybe get sick
Or doubt

But what if I could know the truth
And say just how I feel?
I think I’d learn a lot that’s real
About freedom

I’m learning to sing a sad song when I’m sad
I’m learning to say I’m angry when I’m very mad
I’m learning to shout, I’m letting it out,
I’m happy learning exactly how I feel inside of me

I’m learning to know the truth
I’m learning to tell the truth
Discovering truth will make me free