change is change
Certain songs put me in particular moods. Does that ever happen with you? Like this Peter Gabriel song called “I Grieve.”
Instantly, you might begin to feel like this is the beginning of a downer blog, but I can assure you it’s not. Because while that song does wield minor chords, there’s this ethereal reasoning that spreads its wings throughout the seven minutes and twenty-five seconds of continuous melody. And it’s brilliant.
I first heard it while in the audience at my friend’s show. She’s a dancer, and a really great one, too. Along with her dance company, she performed a rhythmic and emotional accompaniment to that song, and it lit me up. I felt like I was rising above everyone else while sitting in my seat. It’s that kind of presence, a very precise feeling, that push me through difficult days.
And tonight, that song hit me again, but in a completely different way. I was sitting at my desk, looking through old photos when I came across a thought that eased me. I was looking at older and newer pictures of people, and I saw an intuitive difference while reflecting upon each still memory. When you think about it, the power of a picture is really amazing.
Although faces rarely change over the course of a few years, certain internal elements do, and I wonder if that’s the reason I found differences in people while comparing them. To me, it can’t be good or bad when talking about change. Just different. I understand the phrase “changing for the better,” but I also realize that you can change just to change. You know what I mean? It’s not for better or worse; you’re simply evolving throughout your experiences.
This song picks up after five minutes, changing from a slower mood and moving into something more upbeat. Is it for the better? That’s subjective. What really matters is that it happens at some point. It lifts the song because it fits as a part of it.
It’s a natural change.
Instantly, you might begin to feel like this is the beginning of a downer blog, but I can assure you it’s not. Because while that song does wield minor chords, there’s this ethereal reasoning that spreads its wings throughout the seven minutes and twenty-five seconds of continuous melody. And it’s brilliant.
I first heard it while in the audience at my friend’s show. She’s a dancer, and a really great one, too. Along with her dance company, she performed a rhythmic and emotional accompaniment to that song, and it lit me up. I felt like I was rising above everyone else while sitting in my seat. It’s that kind of presence, a very precise feeling, that push me through difficult days.
And tonight, that song hit me again, but in a completely different way. I was sitting at my desk, looking through old photos when I came across a thought that eased me. I was looking at older and newer pictures of people, and I saw an intuitive difference while reflecting upon each still memory. When you think about it, the power of a picture is really amazing.
Although faces rarely change over the course of a few years, certain internal elements do, and I wonder if that’s the reason I found differences in people while comparing them. To me, it can’t be good or bad when talking about change. Just different. I understand the phrase “changing for the better,” but I also realize that you can change just to change. You know what I mean? It’s not for better or worse; you’re simply evolving throughout your experiences.
This song picks up after five minutes, changing from a slower mood and moving into something more upbeat. Is it for the better? That’s subjective. What really matters is that it happens at some point. It lifts the song because it fits as a part of it.
It’s a natural change.
posted by rollbook at 9:11 AM
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