Music is a catalyst. It’s amazing how easily this is forgotten in the midst of many other things. It actually took an intimate evening concert to pull me back to this truism of mine. And, then I rediscovered The Beatles. Now, I move back toward a rate of absorption of music that I tend to think is normal for someone such as myself.

I collect more and more, dig for artists further on the fringe, for the hopes of the same feeling. That newness of old. That vintage that feels so fresh. It recalls a language that is untarnished by all this professional training and the penchant to be concise and to the point.

If artists were charged with the same tasks as politicians and lawyers, what a terrifying condition we would be in. A song has no form that must be taken to. Lyrics are incredibly malleable. Where lyrics are lacking, complexity (or simple complexity) in a melodic structure can take the reigns. Where the music appears simple, lyrics can form quite a dramatic thesis. There are no hard and fast rules.

I sit on my balcony in this heavy, moisture-laden air, and I think beyond law school. I don’t forsake friends or time in doing so. Instead, I think more to the core of who I am and what it is that I feel that drives me. Sure, there is my love for another human being. But beyond that, there is something that truly resonates within me that is my identifying point for even my love of Sara. It’s not even as macro as God Himself. It’s what I feel has been placed into me, what is my very origin of thinking, sensing, feeling as a human being.

It is that fundamental yearning for being, that essence that would have me cry were I not so compelled to do otherwise as a showing of my purported strength and mental soundness.

As complex as I pretend to be in this great masquerade, I’m so simple I cannot yet understand my fundamental vantage point in living. When I strip away these alluring distractions, I’m left with very little. I’m left with lots more questions than be-settles me.

There’s no existential crisis here, not any more than there ever has been. I don’t fear the big picture as I should. Instead, I focus my life, my lens on the small trifles of the day-to-day. Fortunately, there are instances where I am plucked from my mere concerns and I can think outside my small self. I can look to Sara and be her aid. I can give timely advice to a friend in need. And, those can reciprocate. It all seems so small when reduced to this, but it is what it is when it’s distilled like this.

It’s too natural to let myself steep into routine, into rote. And, I haven’t the mind about me to remind myself that it’s commonplace, that it’s congenital, that it’s a fundamental failure of my unquickened spirit. I am ill-equipped to combat this myself. But again, I do not wage this war on my own. It is a uniquely human condition that is shared by all humankind. We are so many negative things when put under a magnifying glass as one. But somehow, through some Miracle, our messes put together can be something quite spectacular. It can be encouraging, invigorating, compelling for all good things. It sounds incredibly humanist because it is. Theoretically, one man could survive when put to his own devices, but the fact is, he would most certainly die trying.

It’s not necessarily fair. It’s certainly not grandiose. But it is. And for now, I’ve come out of my gopher hole to recognize this for just an instant. And, as it has been, I’ll slip just as easily back into the norm. I’ll be just as I typically am–self-consumed. And so that is. It’s not promising. It’s most certainly foul and dirty. But it is. And, when I’m not at my best, I know other people out there are just the opposite. And so this is. Is it a zero-sum game amongst the whole lot of us? I’m not so sure. But it is. Life is certain, and we are not. But it is.