“Wait until you reach my age!”
I guess I’ll need to wait then? Because there’s no other way in which you’re going to divulge the secrets of the universe you’ve amassed by living a longer time than me?
“Aging” does imply the potential for constructing a holistic view of the universe by mere virtue of having access to more information and the ability to see trends.
But what if you read the same book for 30 years?
Is “time” the only prerequisite for arriving at the temple that houses the holy grail called “wisdom?”
A discussion about the “validity” of teenage love sparked these thoughts about youngsters “not always knowing anything” about life.
Does the fire burn any less if it only consumes you partially?
Can we claim to understand the fire within any emotions that aren’t our own?
We’re quick to dismiss the vapid emotions and experiences of youth, but yet we adhere to religious scriptures that extol the virtues of seeing life through the eyes of a child.
What if the “wisdom” we so easily ascribe to our “well-lived” demeanor happens to be nothing more than filters that obscure the way life was meant to be experienced.
Our cynicism, complacency, hurt, jaded righteousness and tired souls may not be the fruits of wisdom, but merely the results of fruitless repetition.
So when does “living” start?
Is it the first breath we take?
Is living only legitimate once we’ve reached that arbitrary yet mythical and mystical milestone set by someone else— “Wait until you’ve reached my age!”
The opening notes of a song may not be representative of the epic middle part of the same song.
And the closing credits may not be indicative of what a movie was about.
Any age carries the potential for acquiring wisdom, even if only within a context that others could never understand.
I believe each perceived “stage” of a life has meaning.
I’ve read thin books that contained vivid imagery.
Even though the plot was often equally wafer-thin, the excruciating and beautifully-conveyed honesty made up for lack of bulk.
I recently reached the “age” someone “warned” me about 20 years ago.
And I’m still waiting for a revelation that will crack open the sky with incandescent pearls of wisdom.
But truth be told, I don’t give much thought to what I was supposed to be “waiting” for.
Life is happening right now, this very minute, and so is the truth and wisdom we might choose to notice or ignore.
The only way to stand out from a crowd is to be the person on stage.
I can only begin to imagine what a rush it must be to perform in front of thousands of cheering fans.
That might explain why so many veteran musicians never seem to retire from the limelight.
There’s one debate in my head that still begs for a definitive answer.
Does an epic performance move into the realms of legend, or is it the performer who becomes legendary?
Perhaps this is a “both sides of the coin are equal” situation?
But after any show, the avid music lover can already decide which concert to attend next.
There is just so much happening in the world.
You only need to look at the sheer volume of entertainment releases and upcoming events each week to acknowledge how spoiled for choice we’ve become.
Even the most stellar events receive press coverage for a couple of days until it’s eclipsed by something new.
Perhaps it’s my imagination, but it seems like the flavor of the month hardly lasts a month these days?
In the center of a heavy metal song beats a human heart.
Mastodon’s “The Sparrow” serves as a eulogy for the wife of the band’s accountant who passed away due to stomach cancer.
There’s a single repeating lyric within the song.
“Pursue happiness with diligence.”
This phrase was her motto.
My childhood synonym for “power” was “Superman.”
The red tights and cape didn’t really inspire me as much as the ability to lift a mountain with
one hand while holding Lois Lane with the other.
At least Superman wasn’t only a muscle-bound knucklehead.
Many of the stories pertinently emphasized his superior alien logic.
I often think that society teaches us that power lies within the ability to generate explosive force.
Movies and stories about powerful beings feature lots of action and pyrotechnics.
That is definitely one interpretation of “power.”
Power can be subtle.
Occasionally we tend to forget that power only becomes apparent after centuries.
The river can carve up a mountain although it takes centuries for a valley to form.
I told her that I did.
But not The Rolling Stones.
Not a big fan!
Standing Stones have always been cool!
Are they really Druidic portals?
Gateways to lost secrets?
Stonehenge. Now that’s a place to visit!
Then we moved on and discussed one of the quintessential Neil Diamond songs—”Stones.”
“Stones would play inside her head,
And where she slept, they made her bed.”
It never gets more random than this, but that’s how you shorten the trip.
Random discussions about everything, and nothing… All rolled into one.
“She would ache for love and get but stones“.
She handed back my headphones, “Why does it always feel like the really happy times are merely a parenthesis?”
“‘Bits of being-ok’ inserted between all the other shit we need to content with?”
I can’t really say, pop-wisdom just sounds so much better when accompanied by a nice melody.
On the upside… This moment we have now is a parenthesis, let’s just enjoy it for what it is!
You already know what I’m aiming towards, don’t you?
“Pop” was simply an abbreviation for “popular?”
Anything that’s currently charting is “pop?”
But hang on, what about “Rock” and “Alternative” and about a thousand other genres?
Well, Allrighty then!
Pop has become a distinct genre! I know!
When I spoke to an older person a couple of years ago he said Mozart would’ve been mortified had he heard pop remixes of his famous melodies.
I’m not so sure though.
But we can’t really say, can we?
Bach might’ve loathed it, and Mozart might’ve loved the innovation?
And within this topic we see yet another term that could throw the mix into disarray—”Classical Music!”
Classical Music was Pop Music during the time when Mozart was a popular and active composer.
I guess they simply called it “music?”
Years from now all the “hip” and fashionable music of this era will become “oldies.”
Or “rubbish” or whatever future generations decide to use as label for that which we enjoy now.
If you place the enjoyment and appreciation of music first, then the genre, or the “label” doesn’t matter.
Society taught us to adhere to labels though.
It makes the sale of music on various platforms easier.
Back in the day it made the sorting and categorizing of music in record stores more manageable.
But it also taught us to listen to the product through a filter that really didn’t enhance the product in any way.
There’s no way we will ever eradicate the perception that we always need to understand something better by reading the label.
Music is medicine, but we really don’t need to worry about the ingredients having any adverse effects on us.
None of this will necessarily assist us to start enjoying those “genres” we don’t particularly like.
But we could end up exploring new music if we’re not always deterred by arbitrary labelling?