Tales and Journeys

When your mind changes, you move across that internal timeline. That’s how I define it. And it’s quite the opposite of the regular timeline in that it’s shortest where the regular is longest. Think about it. When you grow up, your minds develops though many stages, until you’re grown up and have about three times your age left to live. Yet, in those 3/4 of your life, your given purpose is doing the very same thing, based on the very same mind, possibly not ever changing again. So you might’ve reached the end of your mind’s timeline even before the age of 20.

Myself, I wish to counteract that as best I can, by constantly introducing changes in what I do, how I do it and most importanly, what my mind is doing. Or else I’ll be too prone to fade into the gray again and live on autopilot, never knowing what I’m missing.

The last weeks, more or less since my last post, I’ve been exploring new directions, paths I’d forgotten and paths I didn’t know I’d used. I’ve searched for moods and feelings, both recent, old and ancient. But none connected to anything of my new daily routine. And that made me think. My theory is this: things you enjoy or feel are special might turn into their own feelings, but not until you stop doing them.

First, Blaizer – Weight made me recall a very special feeling connected to chilly winter afternoons. I remembered images of the yard outside the house where I grew up, and some places nearby, all covered in a seamless layer of snow, the sky either cloudy, making the air dark bluish gray and magical, or clear, making the snow glitter and the feel of winter even stronger. I also recalled the refreshing chill, the taste of the air, the numbness in my fingers and even several thoughts adding to the mood – the desire to make a snowman, the urge for some hot chocolate, the joy of sliding down a snowy hill. What amazed me it how all this came pouring into my consciousness like the music was a mental magnet. I didn’t seek out old memories; I recalled the feeling through the music, and with it I got hold of all the strings attached to that feeling.

The next one, although not that special, was an exciting surprise. Listening to Amphibiotica – Starwatcher, gamle oslo – Haukelifjell, Gargamel – Towards Compression, and even Røyksopp – Only This Moment, made me think of the past three years. Not in general, but specifically two things: driving a car and riding the bus to school, both under a pitch black sky. Those are some of the most magical things I experienced in those years. Only, I didn’t really think of it entirely that way until I recalled it now, through this music. It’s been made into a special feeling because it’s in the past, now (although that does in no way mean I can’t go back). Still, one of my favorite things this last year was driving, to school, home or anywhere, anytime. One of the best ways was in total darkness, preferrably night, where I could privately enjoy the quiet of the sleeping world while listening to some music (much of the sort that reminded me of all of this) and merely consume that special atmosphere. Before I got the license, riding the bus to school during the dark half of the year gave me some of the same feeling. That carefree moment – isolated from the rest of the world, isolated even from the world right outside the windows – brightened my mood and relieved my stress countless times.

That’s why I believe in my theory three paragraphs back. Such moods don’t come from reminiscence, it’s not that you felt things stronger the younger you were. When you recall moods from the past, you feel more the more your mind has changed since then, and the less you’ve thought about them. That’s why moods from your childhood might feel most special. But it’s nothing exlusive to your childhood. The reason you might not sense such intense moods from later years is because you haven’t changed that much. If you stop changing, then you’ll stop producing new moods, and all those you might recall will be from ages past. Also, I believe it’s incorrect to believe you experience fewer moods that you did before. Because moods never become clear until you stop doing what made them. That means two things: you’re exaggerating what you felt before, and what you feel now you might recall as being stronger once you’ve stopped doing it.

The moral: Music can be very good for you.