And Now, My Answer to Everything
The pressures to be important in an age of information overload
This is not a newsletter where I outline all the problems of the world and offer my surefire solutions. At this point, I think all of our brains are heated mush from the onslaught of stimuli we swallow daily. I’m not going to offer answers, because I do not have them (even though I wish I could offer some). Instead, I am going to point you, dear reader, into the direction of people or places or sounds that have helped bring me a sense of calm during these turbulent times. Take what you like, and leave the rest.
Ever wanted to hear the sounds of nightingales in Southern France? The lapping churn of the Atlantic along the shores of Portugal? World Sounds is an archive of nature recordings submitted by users to bring you out of the screen and into your body. One of my favorite hobbies is recording my environment—the sound of rain on a windowsill in Paris, my footsteps on a cobblestone street, the Pacific waves crashing against rocks. Sound has a way of penetrating our senses and making the world immersive.
Pick a place on the map, put on those headphones, and take in the planet around you, its infinite music. It’s endlessly inviting to just stop and do nothing at all but listen to threads we are all connected to by living today.
An example:
The title track off of Kool and The Gang’s Wild and Peaceful album embodies a feeling that music can only access: the yearning for ease, for peace and relief, amidst tumultuous times. It’s fitting that this song bookends an album that featured one of their filthiest funk hits “Jungle Boogie.” Try not to feel that the sunset you’re viewing is happening inside of you while this track plays. If your interest is piqued, get yourself deep into the spiritual jazz of Alice Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders and Lonnie Liston Smith.
To finish off this newsletter, I wanted to address the issue of what it means to be important. Individualism has indoctrinated us all into believing we are only as valuable as our achievements. Achievements—we are led to believe—give us cultural importance, money, and community approval. Social media has insidiously reinforced this idea of remaining relevant, to the detriment of our brain cognition and our mental health. In essence, if we fade from the collective gaze, we may fear we are disappearing forever.
But what about a life that is so utterly ordinary that it becomes extraordinary? What about a life where the presence of a newly emerging flower, a conversation with a stranger, the way sunlight and shadow hits a particular building on your walk, is enough to satiate the spirit.
This poem by William Martin has made the rounds online a few times, and I feel, as I consider whether I bring a child into the world in future years, this words ring true for eternity:
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
Sending you all deep hugs and cool swims in a river at dusk, with your loved ones waving from shore as a folded paperback awaits you.
Hold fast,
Phil