For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only through love.
~ Carl Sagan
We got just one shot of life, let’s take it while we’re still not afraid.
Because life is so brief and time is a thief when you’re undecided.
And like a fistful of sand, it can slip right through your hands.
Young hearts be free tonight. Time is on your side,
~ Young Turks, Rod Stewart
For fifty thousand years, humans have been enraptured by the power of music. Like nothing else, this form of expression has the ability to evoke innumerable unique sentiments in any single individual.
An illustration of the way music affects me is how I experience the constantly changing movement of Pink Floyd’s Echoes:
….the eerily way the singular high-pitched notes introduce me to the song and to its video backdrop in Pompeii, a place whose ancient mysteries have captivated my imagination for as long as I remember…
…the wisdom in the observation that…
Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
…that recalls for me both the benign and the life-changing paths that I cross with others, sharing in some of the same moments of life in this galaxy, in awe that we’re born from the same stardust…
…the guitar’s crescendo before giving way to percussion only to periodically return with riffs determined to tell their own stories (the daily life stories of all those unsuspecting people), reminding me that all conversations will undoubtedly ebb but, given the chance, the ones with kindred spirits always find their natural flow again, kind of like the inaudible waves of a calm and content lake on a warm romantic September evening.
… and on and on until the finale when all the instruments join to tell their collective story (the one that unites all the Pompeiians under Mt. Vesuvius), descending and ascending into lyrics once again…
Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning
…encouraging me on even the sometimes most trying and tiring of days to be inwardly acutely and joyfully aware of being alive and healthy another morning and that neither tomorrow nor even this afternoon are ever promised.
My tens of thousands of photographs and hundreds of hours of video, with their memories and stories, certainly elicit strong feelings. Paired with an accompanying soundtrack, their force becomes my time machine. And sometimes a song is so powerful that it travels to multiple eras.
After a long workday this past March, I was letting the YouTube mix take me where it may while prepping for bed when Dreams by Fleetwood Mac began playing. That easy guitar combined with the laid back drumbeat moved me from one time to another. (I started to post about it on this blog’s Facebook page but got pleasantly distracted by my upcoming meet-halfways Pennsylvania cabin road trip birthday weekend… and the next six months…) Wrapped in a towel with hair dripping wet, I’m suddenly no longer a middle-aged woman on the verge of falling into the deep soul love I’d only previously imagined. Instead, I’m 9 years old, lying in my twin bed in Warren, Ohio with my transistor radio tuned to Y-103.
On any given late night in my childhood, I might be reading with a nightlight or staring at the ceiling trying to work out the mysteries of life through the stream of conscienceness of my limited experience:
* worrying about my inadequacies
* fantasizing about having a cute boyfriend to hold hands with and talk about everything under the moon
* wondering what grown up love will feel like
* imagining how the world will be in that far off sci-fi year of 2000
* trying to bend my mind in an attempt to understand the vastness and infinity of time and space
It’s probably because I could see tangible results of my faith in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy that I still believed in them, but I was already quietly questioning the Baptist dogmatism that was presented to me every Sunday morning. On one of those late nights of mind wandering, I satisfactorily concluded that the Great Vengeful and Benevolent Being had too many human-like qualities to be as endless as the universe.
Time forward. Much has not changed.
I still stay up too late reading or writing or watching movies. The same types of insecurities tend to resurface when I feel inadequate. Because I experienced what grown up true love feels like, I haven’t completely given up that I’ll meet a handsome sexy boyfriend (insert many more desired qualities) who will hold my hand even tighter after I tell him about these insecurities.
And, quite often, I try to wrap my head around infinite space, tending to obsess more about time as I move ever further from the threshold of having more behind me than in front of me. But because my philosophical mind knows that time is more about what we make of it than how much we have of it, my middle aged worries, ponderings, and revelations about time are more practical and Earthly than when I believed that my time was as endless as 9 year old girl living in Pompeii in 79 CE must have believed.
I’ll come back to the topic to explore my time philosophies, time and time again, in this 360* webosphere conversation.
For now, let’s just say that I’ll put a sticky note here so we can talk about it another time–cause we’ve got all the time in the world. In the meantime, I intend to make the most of my time.
<3, C – 20181110