I learned from a longtime farmer that pigs enjoy soothing music.

When the painter Jamie Wyeth declared, “I learned from a longtime farmer that pigs enjoy soothing music,” he spoke with more than a smile of curiosity. Beneath his words lies a revelation both simple and profound: that all creatures, even those we often overlook, respond to beauty, to harmony, to the tender gift of song. His observation is not merely about animals, but about the universal power of music, which transcends boundaries of species, language, and intellect, reaching into the very essence of life itself.

The ancients knew this secret well. They told the story of Orpheus, whose lyre could calm wild beasts, charm trees into bending, and soften the hearts of gods. His music carried no words, no command, and yet it brought order where there was chaos, gentleness where there was fury. What Wyeth shares through his farmer’s wisdom is a living echo of this myth: that even pigs, creatures thought lowly, are touched by the same rhythm and peace that move kings and poets. For music is not the property of man alone, but the language of creation.

History, too, offers its examples. In the Second World War, soldiers in the fields and camps were known to play violins, harmonicas, and accordions not only for themselves but for the animals around them. Horses, weary from battle, calmed under the strains of gentle tunes. Dogs, restless and afraid, settled by the fireside when lullabies were played. These moments remind us that soothing music is not decoration but medicine—an invisible balm for creatures great and small.

The meaning of Wyeth’s words reaches deeper still. If animals such as pigs, often dismissed as mere livestock, are sensitive to harmony, then how much more are we, as humans, bound to the healing and unifying power of music? To learn this is to be humbled. It is to realize that life is stitched together by unseen threads of sound and feeling, and that our duty is to weave these threads with gentleness rather than discord. To acknowledge this kinship is to grow in compassion toward all living things.

The farmer’s wisdom also teaches us to observe the world more closely. For the farmer sees not only soil and seasons, but the character of animals, their subtle responses, their needs of body and spirit. Through patience and attention, he learns that pigs enjoy music, that cows yield more milk when calm, that birds sing differently before a storm. This way of seeing is a model for us all: to watch, to listen, to learn from creation, and to find wonder in what others might overlook.

The lesson, then, is simple but profound: do not underestimate the small things, nor dismiss what seems ordinary. If music can soothe a pig, then kindness can soften a hardened heart, patience can heal a weary soul, and beauty can bring peace where there is turmoil. The world is full of hidden treasures, waiting for us to notice. To live wisely is to cultivate the eyes of the farmer and the ears of the artist, to see and hear what others pass by in haste.

Practical wisdom follows. Bring soothing music into your daily life—not only for yourself, but for those around you. Play it in your home, in your work, even in your care for animals, and watch how peace spreads silently. Pay attention to the overlooked: the creatures, the details, the quiet moments, for they may hold truths greater than the loud declarations of the world. Above all, cultivate compassion, for if even pigs rejoice in harmony, then surely every soul hungers for gentleness.

Therefore, let us hold Wyeth’s words not as a quaint remark, but as a parable: “Pigs enjoy soothing music.” For in this lies the eternal truth that life is moved by beauty, that creation longs for harmony, and that wisdom is found in the simplest observations. Let us, then, make our lives into music—soothing, healing, and unifying—for man, for beast, and for the world entire.