Saturday, April 5, 2014
I remember the first time I heard Nirvana. In the back of a strangers car (not like it sounds), with the windows rolled down and the sun shining through the leaves of trees, like a movie. Heart Shaped Box, changed my life forever. It's pointless to try to put into words what Nirvana has been and is in my life, or what the illusion of kinship with Kurt has been and is (pointless before coffee at least). Few people touch your soul like that, or mine. When I found their music in high school, I had a friend, I was appreciated, I was seen for who I was. I was fine just as I was. My feelings, insecurities, my sensitivities were all validated. It was, and is, the greatest gift art can give. And it's always been my driving passion in life, the caramel soy fuel driving what I want to do with my time here. If I could give a half of an ounce of what feeling Nirvana gave me, I will be more than satisfied and possibly slightly less indebted to this enchanting, beautiful, fragile universe. There's no feeling like that music. No other sanctuary, no home. It's odd that it's been 20 years. It's not like I knew him. I was four. But that's what is so immortal and penetrating about the soul- we extend beyond the boundaries of body, of time and overlap constantly in a pool of collective karma. We're only bound by the ropes we weave ourselves. When days like this come around, I'm reminded that I don't want to weave rope. I want to choose to feel, to free-fall, regardless of the risk, and to feel my heart beating on the table; i want to feel every tick of the time others passed up.
Time has always scared the shit out of me. Because it means loss. But on this morning, with my heart slightly heavy but wholly thankful, I'm choosing for it to be a pathway, a vein, connecting the specks of our being to one another - the glue holding this sphered ballerina rotating the sun, our life force, our heart.
Thanks for feeding my soul and being a friend in my head.