Isabela - Day 3
- DWS
- Jun 19, 2020
- 4 min read
“Down in the bardo, there was nothing to hold so we let it go”
You close your eyes in delight as the wind brushes your curly hair. It is a beautiful Wednesday morning and you are surrounded by no other scenery than a wide-open road brushed by the warm summer sun. You adjust your hands on the rubber handles of your city bike and feel its fabric soften under your grip. You slowly open your eyes on the landscape that Lima offers in summer. It is a landscape like no other. To you, it is all you have ever known, all you will ever need. You keep biking along the beach, your legs moving up and down to the rhythm of the guitar vibrating in a carefully designed motion created to enchant its audience through its mathematical accuracy.
The incredible power of music will never cease to surprise you. As all things, it can heal or destroy. It can heal by providing comfort in a familiar memory. It can destroy by spreading a feeling of alienation and target unconscious masses through supposedly catchy rhythms. It can poison minds with the same ease as it can heal them. It can heal by granting you with much-needed silence and finally mute all of your voices. But if you flip the coin, it will create divides. Music can also be used to promulgate violence and provoke disarray. A simple rhythm, sound made music, can explore your psychology in a way that no mind can.
There is no greater wonder than watching it unite thousands of strangers under the same lyrics of hope and humanity. There is no greater joy than seeing thousands of bodies move to the same rhythm, one that seems to carry your spirit into unknown lands. No song will ever be heard twice. Every single time you will click play, a different song will flow, always the same title but you will never hear it the same way twice. Every song offers a trip.
You raise your gaze to the clear road extending before your eyes and shake your head to the beat of the indie music dancing in your earbuds. You watch the waves brake gently along the shore and sense the air carrying the smell of salty water. You will always remember this salty breeze, always remember the way it used to reach into the memories of endless summer nights which you had long thought forgotten. And as you pedal along the empty shore, watching the sun rise languorously to the sound of your wheels rolling on smooth pebbles, you wonder if this is what joy feels like.
There is nothing special about this day, nothing out of ordinary about this place, and yet… And yet it felt different. You stop at an intersection, waiting for the red stop to shine its gentle green light. You raise your eyes distractedly and rest them on the horizon. It truly was a beautiful scene. The sun slowly opened its tired eyes and painted the sky pink as it stretched its golden palms into the depths of the unknown. Distant clouds seemed to cover the awakening sun as the god’s dreams progressively faded into memories. They seemed to circle the earth as to return its immaculate crown in commemoration of its stolen beauty. The horizon, clearing a path for the sun to glow, welcomed angels dancing among the clouds and into the deep blue waves. There the sea was left to touch the rosy sky, blushing under the sun’s embrace. You smiled as the waves ebbed back, their snowy foam dissolving into the earth.
And with the light turning green and Gregory Alan Isakov singing into your ears, you pushed your way back into the empty road. Then you simply allow your mind to wonder, your thoughts flying before your eyes in no specific order, with no clear logic. You look at the sun rise and feel a shiver flow down your spine. The chain rings create a comforting sound as you allow your bike to move forward. You were not given a specific destination this time, you were not given a clear goal. In a way, you were sent to find your purpose. One you alone created. Your first thought was to go straight ahead. It was to carry on as far as the road would lead you and leave your worries behind. But life never goes on a smooth path. Life will never take you on a straight road. It gets messy, incredibly messy. It bends and curves so steeply that you lose focus and it becomes difficult to see whether you are moving forward at all. So, you close your eyes and head forward. I guess that is what we are supposed to do. Simply carry on, no matter what life will throw on your road.
And while I disappear, you have never felt more alive. You tap your right-hand fingers on the handle, moving to the rhythm of the song. Life was never made for constant happiness. Such a thing did not exist in this world defined by opposites. Life is made of instants of joy, small things that will make you smile. Here a sunset, sometimes only a cool breeze, a smile, a hug, maybe only the human mind, the human touch. You smile as you pedal, your hair flying in the summer wind. You can see it now. As your mind flies around, you realize what you always missed in the gigantic game we called life. You suddenly see how it all plays out and contemplate how it all came to be. You see the earth, the moon, you can almost touch the sun shining brightly in the cosmic night, and, in the matter of minutes, you realize how small you are.
You suddenly wonder what an astronaut must feel, floating in a space shuttle, so far from Earth and yet never more at home. You wonder what it is like to see Earth from space and realize how small and insignificant humans are compared to the immensity of the universe. You wonder what it feels to lay in nothingness and never feeling more complete than staring into our mother and wonder when it all fell to ashes. You sigh as you picture Earth, dancing in absolute silence to a melody only she can hear,
“And you see your soul like some picture show.”
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