Time Travel with Music
I heard the music of Andrew Bird in another world ten years ago. I led a completely different life back then, in a completely different place. Hearing it now gives me visions of that place and time. I feel the slap of cold, fresh autumn air against my face. I see yellow, orange and red leaves of fall. They crunch in a most pleasant way under my shoes. Across from me sits a pond whose surface is choked with green algae. On it, a solitary duck. The sight of this duck takes me to yet another world, where I am looking at the cover of a National Geographic magazine. It is one from a thick stack of magazines that my father has rescued at the clearance of a neighboring bookstore. It had almost gone to the kabadiwala. The magazine in my hand belongs to the 1980s. On the cover is a duck much like this one. It floats the same way on a pond of similar size, choked in green algae.
In Delft, crunching leaves underfoot, I remember myself in Calcutta, staring at that cover, wondering if I would ever get to see something like it. The afternoon sun warms my face, and I consider myself blessed. Then, as the music fades, so does this trip. I am back again at my desk. A train passes by my window, and disappears behind the screen. Like a cruel reminder of the inevitability of time, a cursor sits after the last word I have typed, blinking.
Music can help us time-travel in these little ways.
Contrary to expectations, a little bit of time-travel is not hard to do. It takes only a bit of work, like dropping a pin on the four-dimensional map of your life. Do you want to try it? For a moment, as you go about your day, just stop. Blink twice, and regard your world with fresh eyes. Regard it as a fleeting moment in the multi-colored tapestry of a long life. Imagine yourself a year from now, living another life in another world. Say hello.
Here is some SneakyArt I made while listening to live music.