I’ve been watching a lot of war movies lately. I’ve always loved them. I’ll never forget the feeling I had sitting there in the dark after the credits ended after I sneaked in an watched Platoon. I’ve been a Dafoe fan ever since. I remember watching the other silent shadows in seats as well as if they were unable to stand. I imagine at least a few veterans were in that group. Every war movie at its core is a tragedy which fills us with “catharsis” (as Aristotle would call it). We reflect on our condition and take stock in what we have, what makes us happy, and how we perceive others can achieve happiness.
Happiness has been on my mind a lot lately. As I go about my daily, unremarkable routine of waking, working, riding, relaxing, eating, and sleeping sometimes I really start to wonder what it is that makes me happy—especially as I ride and wander outdoors.
Yesterday I was rather depressed on my ride for no explainable reason. Today was the polar opposite. I had the best headphones I could hope for pumping the best 80s music hand-curated by me from all the stuff I used to dance to back in the day. So many would find it pathetic, an old man jamming out with cans on his ears listening to 80s music pedaling away on his “dad” bike. But I was full of exhilaration.
Sitting here now after a warm shower all I feel is absolute catharsis and peace, a numb sort of happiness that only complete exhaustion from positive stimulation (and the rush of accompanying endorphins) can bring. Few people truly have experienced this. Those that have felt it crave it like junkies for the rest of their lives. When they lose it they start acting like they are going through withdrawal without even realizing it. [I also watching a miniseries about the Oxycotin epidemic recently.]
So what makes me happy? I write about this all the time but today is a little different.
There are the obvious things: knowing my children are safe, challenged, and happy; being loved and having someone to love in return; having enough money to eat well, stay healthy, and enjoy a modest amount of recreation; being able to sleep deeply and soundly whenever I want and need.
Today, however, I realized there is something trivially simple I haven’t put into words: music, really high-quality, good music. Those 300 dollar headphones are worth every fucking penny. It’s like (what I imagine) pure Zanex or Zoloft would be, but better.
I don’t know why I don’t remember this. I keep moving away from music, playing it, writing it, curating it, DJing it, because I’m too busy for whatever reason. Then I remember what I was missing and it’s like a slap in the face, “Your sad because you don’t have music, idiot!” (myself to myself)
With those headphones on there could be a war and I would be able to disengage from it and watch it like on a stage. This happened to me tonight while riding and watching the sunset. Everything became the best music video you could imagine because it was real. This doesn’t happen when the music is shitty or not immersive. It only happens when you have isolation and nothing but pure, crisp highs and just low enough lows. Then I find myself swept away by the sound waves. Nothing phases me. Traffic be damned. Ironically, I’m more aware and safe in the traffic this way. I act confidently but not foolishly. Music enhances my senses and acuity. I’m more present. I’m not daydreaming, or worse, chatting with someone. I can still hear traffic and stuff, but it is in the background of the amazing music making it seem even more like background ambiance with an excellent music video. With music I don’t care about anything else, not the pain of the ride, not the creaks in my shoes, not what things I should capture with my camera, not even the shit that happened at work. I’m one with the music, my bike, and the road. The music is my company. I’m not alone. It sounds corny but it is so very real to me. I am so glad I discovered it.
Campbell was right when he said music and art are the best replacements for mythology modern humans have. I felt it today.