It is a simple list. Honestly, if you look at the lyrics written by Oscar Hammerstein II back in 1959, the items are almost mundane. Raindrops on roses. Whiskers on kittens. Copper kettles. It shouldn't work as a cultural powerhouse, but My Favorite Things has somehow transitioned from a Broadway showtune to a jazz standard, and eventually, into a psychological anchor for how we handle stress.
We’ve all been there.
When the dog bites or the bee stings, we are told to simply remember these things and then we won't feel so bad. It sounds like a Hallmark card, but there is actually some deep-seated cognitive behavioral science hidden in those rhymes. Psychologists often refer to this as "grounding" or "positive sensory redirection." When the world feels like it’s collapsing, focusing on a specific, tactile "favorite"—the smell of a crisp apple strudel or the feel of a woolen mitten—yanks the brain out of a sympathetic nervous system "fight or flight" response and back into the present moment. It’s not just a song; it’s a manual for survival.
The Evolution of a Legend
Most people associate the song with Julie Andrews spinning on a mountain, but the history of My Favorite Things is much weirder than that.
Before the 1965 film became a global juggernaut, the song debuted on Broadway in 1959 with Mary Martin. It wasn't even sung in the bedroom during a thunderstorm originally; it was performed in Mother Abbess’s office. Can you imagine? The tonal shift from a somber convent to a whimsical list of "bright copper kettles" was a deliberate choice by Richard Rodgers to show Maria’s irrepressible spirit.
But then came John Coltrane.
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In 1961, Coltrane took this sweet, waltzing melody and turned it into a 14-minute modal jazz masterpiece. He saw something in the structure—the way it moves from E minor to E major—that allowed for endless exploration. It’s the ultimate irony that a song about simple comforts became the foundation for some of the most complex, avant-garde music of the 20th century. Coltrane didn't care about mittens or kittens; he cared about the mathematical purity of the melody.
He basically stripped the song of its "cute" factor and turned it into a spiritual incantation. This is why the song persists. It has layers. You can hear it as a lullaby at 4:00 PM and a haunting jazz improvisation at 2:00 AM.
Why We Get the "Christmas Song" Connection Wrong
Have you noticed how this song always plays in malls in December?
It’s kinda weird. There is absolutely no mention of Christmas, Jesus, or Santa in the lyrics. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes? Sure, that’s wintry, but it’s not a holiday lyric. The reason My Favorite Things became a Christmas staple is largely due to marketing and the "feel-good" aesthetic of the 1960s variety shows.
Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass released a version in 1968 on their Christmas album, and the industry just... went with it. Now, we just accept it as part of the seasonal canon alongside "Jingle Bells." It shows how easily our brains associate "comfort" with "holiday," even when the source material is actually about a governess trying to distract seven children from their fear of a thunderstorm (and, meta-textually, the encroaching Nazi occupation of Austria).
The Psychology of Curating Joy
If you were to write your own version of My Favorite Things today, what would be on it?
It probably wouldn't be wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings. Maybe it's the specific click of a mechanical keyboard. Or the smell of the first pot of coffee in a quiet house. Perhaps it's the way a dog sighs when it finally finds the perfect spot on the rug.
There’s a reason we gravitate toward lists.
- Cognitive Ease: Lists reduce the complexity of the world into manageable chunks.
- Sensory Anchoring: Highlighting specific textures (satin sashes) and temperatures (warm woolen mittens) makes the joy feel "real" rather than abstract.
- Contrast: The song works because it acknowledges the "biting dog." It doesn't pretend life is perfect; it offers a counterweight to the suck.
The things we love define us more than the things we hate. In a digital age where rage-baiting is the primary currency of the internet, choosing to focus on a "favorite thing" is almost a radical act of rebellion. It’s a refusal to let the "bad" define the day.
Misconceptions and the "Sound of Music" Shadow
People often think the song is "fluff."
Critics have sometimes dismissed it as the peak of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s perceived sentimentality. But look closer at the lyrics. "Silver white winters that melt into springs"—that is a meditation on impermanence. The song isn't just about hoarding nice things; it’s about the cycle of nature and the inevitability of change.
Hammerstein was dying when he wrote the lyrics for The Sound of Music. He knew he was reaching the end. When you realize that, the line "I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad" carries a much heavier weight. It wasn't written by a happy-go-lucky guy; it was written by a man facing his own mortality, looking for a way to find peace in the small details.
Real-World Impact: More Than Just Lyrics
There is a fascinating study by researchers at the University of Pennsylvania regarding "positive affect" and its impact on resilience. They found that individuals who could quickly summon specific positive memories or "favorites" during high-stress events had significantly lower cortisol levels.
Basically, Maria was a genius.
She wasn't just singing to stop the kids from crying; she was performing a high-level psychological intervention. When we talk about My Favorite Things, we are talking about a toolkit for emotional regulation that has been passed down through pop culture for over sixty years.
What We Can Learn from the Song’s Structure
Musically, the song is a waltz (3/4 time). Waltzes are inherently comforting because they mimic a swinging or rocking motion. It’s the rhythm of a heartbeat, or a mother rocking a child. This is why the song feels "safe." Even when the lyrics talk about stings and bites, the rhythm keeps you steady.
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- The Minor-to-Major Shift: The song starts in a dark, minor key. It feels slightly tense.
- The Resolution: When it hits the "I simply remember" part, it shifts into a bright major key.
- The Payoff: That musical resolution mimics the feeling of relief.
It’s brilliant songwriting. It takes the listener on a journey from tension to release in under three minutes.
Actionable Steps for Finding Your Own "Favorite Things"
If you want to use the "Maria Method" to actually improve your day-to-day headspace, you have to get specific. Vague ideas of "happiness" don't work. You need the "copper kettle" level of detail.
Audit your sensory inputs. Spend one day noticing what actually makes your brain "ping" with a tiny hit of dopamine. Is it the weight of a specific pen? The way the light hits a certain building on your drive home? Write these down. Not in a "gratitude journal" way—that can feel like a chore—but in a "curating a collection" way.
Create a "Break Glass in Case of Emergency" list. When you're actually in the middle of a "dog bite" moment, you won't be able to think of anything good. Your brain is too busy screaming. Have a physical or digital list of five highly specific sensory favorite things.
Stop over-indexing on the "Big" stuff. The song doesn't mention winning the lottery or getting a promotion. It’s all small, accessible, and largely free. If your "favorite things" are too expensive or too rare, they can't help you when you're stuck in a thunderstorm.
Lean into the "Jazz" version of your life. Like Coltrane, don't be afraid to take the simple things and riff on them. If you love coffee, don't just drink it. Learn the origin, the roast, the chemistry. Turn a simple pleasure into a deep interest. Depth is a defense against burnout.
Practice the pivot. The next time something goes wrong—a flat tire, a rude email—literally say to yourself, "Okay, that was the bee sting. Now, where’s the rose?" It sounds cheesy, but it forces your brain to switch tracks. You are training your neural pathways to find the exit ramp from a negative spiral.
We live in a world that is very good at pointing out the "biting dogs." It takes zero effort to find something to be annoyed about. But finding the "cream-colored ponies"? That takes work. It takes a conscious, expert-level focus on the details that make life livable. My Favorite Things isn't a song for children; it's a strategy for adults who are trying to keep their heads above water in a chaotic world.
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Start looking for your copper kettles. They’re usually right in front of you, waiting to be noticed.