On 'Undercurrents'

 

There are times when I sense that I would like someone or what they do simply based on a couple of 'assumptions'. I used to call it Person Intuition and, of course, it isn't that. Now I resort to the better fitting word: 'undercurrents', the thing that sparks up the recognition. An example would be the type of music I'm most drawn to; the artist says things that I theorise could only come from thinking other things, and those things I know and the paths they took to reach to the final thought are familiar, then I can rely on the artist to navigate my thoughts as they branch out as if I'm speaking through them. It's this trusting someone to share your unspoken experience, which cannot be articulated, down to the smallest detail, to the point where the differences barely matter. It's not just words too, sometimes the way an artist carries themselves can paint the background of their life and how they came to where they stand at the moment, the one or many times they sat in their own company and it felt as though they were accommodating a friend (yes I am referring to Björk, the only person who I believe truly loves herself and understands what being human means). In some cases I don't even get to see or hear the artist, and I feel a connection purely through the sound of their music, and the only way I can explain it is that I imagine the person in the process of creating such a thing, and if they enjoy what they are making and if it tickles their brain right and if it knocks from their insides to get out, a thing I'd love too to the point of savouring it whole and its every bit individually, then I just can't be wrong about being pulled that way. The soul which I barely believe in has spoken. The sum of who I am approves. 

Now that 'self recognition through the other, comfort in similarity...ect' is one side of this 'undercurrents' sensing. Sometimes I admire what I lack, or no longer possess. In order to evolve we must continuously shed parts of ourselves in favour for better pieces (in the sense that they fit better, combining the well-deserved comfort that we must nurture ourselves with and the discomfort that is much needed to build tolerance for living), and the drastically different ship is held together by its core: memory. I think that that core holds pride for surviving life, but mourns its past homes. There is safety within familiar walls no matter how puny and unfit they are. There is much love and gratitude for the tumbling moving castles that carry us, and so it is no surprise that to miss one's self is to be able to see it scattered around the soil of time, glimmering in shards within other people; a tiny relief and possibility that you have one of the many keys to whoever you want to reach out to. 

In the absence of what we had there is also what we don't, the new and different (which I personally adore specifically because it cannot be replicated, cannot be learned in the same way, and so the original product remains dear and unmatched and the admiration never ceases. You can always pick up someone's habits or mindset but they remain theirs in the end, and what you pick up shifts to fit you.), and the way we recognise it is by contrast, meaning that it mirrors an aspect of one's own so perfectly on the other side, fitting within the lines of category and looking nothing like what is parallel. The question 'why is this appealing?' arises, and I'd like to think we consume just a little more of the infinite living experience when we allow difference into our gaps, and digest it so slowly because we didn't come with the presets to understand it so quickly. I think it breeds love.