324 songs with 6,165,215 listeners. To me, music is one of the deepest forms of intimacy. Letting you be both accompanied and alone. Asking that you surrender yourself to it wholly, with no expectations. Evoking a stillness that is the core of what is beautiful in this world.
Soft raindrops that trickle their way down the windowsill. The light that lives in the crevices of blinds. Coffee grinds and freshly cut grass before a morning drive. The exchange of the sun’s goodbye and the moon’s hello. When one exists in an eruption of light with its hues of pinks, oranges, and yellows. And the other, in a lavender-blue embrace that engulfs you in a brisk breeze. The warmth of a familiar space that sings you to sleep.
But stillness doesn’t ask for our permission.
It seeps into our lives unapologetically. Like if someone suddenly hit your brakes after you’ve gone miles and miles in full speed without even a warning. Now you’re stopped at the traffic light at the end of a familiar road. The GPS recalculates. Cars zoom past you. Some, lag far behind. And others, stopped beside you.
Only hours till one year since lockdown. This year has felt like an infinite instant. A momentary lapse in a boundless pool of possibility. My emotions swell for the first time in months. They dissipate and remain in an in-between state.
In the stage I’ve been living in. Stopped at the traffic light. In between places, ideas, dreams, emotions. In between versions of me. The one behind who drives on the familiar road. And the one ahead who I haven’t met, but who feels like an old friend.
But stillness rewards us when we sit with it.
Today, I’m sitting. Alone with this instrumental indulgence. Accompanied by 6,165,215 other listeners. Comforted by these words I type that I didn’t know I had.
Sit with me. In stillness, together.
