Today, with our first big storm rolling into Marigal, I sat in bed with a headache.
The kitten on my lap,
the rain on the tin roof,
the electricity out,
the community’s water system turned off for fear of flooding.
With nothing, I used the little bit of battery life I had left on my computer to watch some ted talks.
Charles Hazlewood hit me hardest.
I can’t help but yearn for music. Without a piano and access to symphony, I die a little. I can easily say that any unhappiness and struggling I have had here could have been cured with an hour at the piano, or an hour in a dance studio, or even an hour with a flute or oboe rehearsing with a symphony.
With my meditation removed from me, I get lost. So lost, that I don’t even realize how lost I am to its fullest until something strikes me in the face.
I don’t get movies often, in fact, I am more of a book reader PCV, but every once in a while when I am in the city I try to hunt down some recently released burned movie discs. This, is the easiest way to wormhole yourself back to western culture, without a doubt. You get images of everything you do and don’t miss.
In one movie there was an insignificant screen shot of a man putting an LP record on to set a mood. I lost it. I cried harder than I cry when I watch suffering here. I cried harder than I do at babies’ funerals. I cried harder than I cry when I have to tell someone deathly ill that there is nothing we can do for them. Why? Because in seeing that momement, in seeing my untouchable meditation, I am thrown into all of those tears at once. All of that pain that I don’t know how to deal with in the moment, and can’t meditate about comes flooding back.
Charles Hazlewood brought a small orchestra onto his stage during his speech, and just hearing music that I haven’t been listening to for the past year and a half took me down again. Admittedly I have an itunes with 20 days worth of non-stop music on it, but I have to say that in a year and a half I have listened to it all to the point where my very favorite music is starting to become annoying. Mr. Hazlewood’s group of strings knocked me in the face of everything I haven’t been able to meditate about and sent me into a pool of tears in this rainstorm.
His point of the speech was, “where there is trust, there is music by extension of life. where there is no trust, the music quite simply whithers away.”
Is that where we can place the lack of music and art here?
No trust for your government.
Little trust for mother Earth to protect you year after year.
Little trust in one another, even your family members.
Right now I am listening to Lost in the Trees Movemenet 1 Sketch from the album All Alone In An Empty House. How appropriate.
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