I believe music is like medicine. Like a good tonic, it can open

Hear the words of the reggae prophet Burning Spear, who declared: “I believe music is like medicine. Like a good tonic, it can open your mind, strengthen and possibly even cure you. Music can work on many levels, and nothing I know of possesses the healing force that exists within music.” In this declaration lies a truth as ancient as fire: that music is not mere sound for the ear, but a remedy for the soul. It soothes the weary, lifts the broken, and gives courage to the faint. Like a potion brewed by unseen hands, it flows into the spirit and brings renewal.

The ancients knew this well. In the temples of Greece, music was used to calm the troubled mind and prepare it for philosophy. Pythagoras himself taught that the movements of the stars created a harmony of spheres, a cosmic melody that ordered creation. In Africa, the drumbeat has long been medicine, summoning strength for warriors, hope for the grieving, and unity for the scattered. Burning Spear’s words arise from this lineage: that music is not only entertainment, but healing force, a sacred tonic bestowed upon humanity.

Consider the story of World War I soldiers, broken by the horrors of trench warfare. Many returned home suffering from what we now call trauma, their spirits shattered. In hospitals, it was discovered that music—soft singing, instruments, even gramophone records—brought peace to minds that medicine alone could not heal. Trembling men who could not speak of what they had seen could still hum a melody, and in that melody, their hearts began to mend. Here, indeed, music proved itself a cure, where no other remedy seemed to reach.

So too did reggae itself become a medicine for the oppressed. In the struggles of Jamaica, where poverty and colonial wounds weighed heavily, the songs of roots reggae—of Marley, Tosh, and Burning Spear—lifted the people. The rhythm was heartbeat, the lyrics were scripture, the sound was healing. It was not only music; it was medicine for a wounded people, restoring pride, unity, and hope. Burning Spear speaks from this living well of experience: he has seen with his own eyes how song becomes strength.

Yet the power of music is not only for the body or mind—it is also for the spirit. Music awakens memory. It can carry an elder back to the joys of youth, or lift a mourner out of grief for a moment of light. It can unlock emotions long buried, allowing them to flow freely and restore balance to the heart. It reaches where words alone cannot travel, healing not with logic, but with vibration, resonance, and rhythm.

To you who hear this, take it as sacred counsel: treat music as medicine. When you are weary, let a song restore you. When you are broken, let a melody hold you until your strength returns. When you rejoice, let music magnify your joy and bind you with others in shared celebration. Do not dismiss it as idle sound, but embrace it as a force that moves through every part of life.

Practical wisdom follows: choose the music you take into your soul as carefully as one chooses food or drink. Some songs may weaken you, but others will fortify you. Find the sounds that open your mind, the rhythms that lift your body, the harmonies that give you peace. And share these songs with others, for medicine is most powerful when it is passed from hand to hand, voice to voice.

Thus remember Burning Spear’s words: “Music is like medicine… nothing I know of possesses the healing force that exists within music.” It is a truth for all peoples and all ages. Let music be your companion, your cure, your teacher, and your strength. For in its healing power, we find not only relief, but the very sound of life itself.