Beautiful Music

I may remember this moment for the rest of my life.

Just ten minutes ago, I witnessed one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and I knew then what I want to do. Maybe even what I have to do. I mean this in the most profound way. As soon as it happened, I knew, and I came as quickly as I could to this computer because I just had to say something.


Class had finished. I've been feeling very odd, very strange, the past couple of days, with lots of thoughts swirling in my head--wondering about and doubting both past experiences and hypothetical futures, thinking too much about everything. Last night was expecially cinematic and strange, compounded by music and the weather. I walked through the rain last night with my head down, I walked across the bridge, I walked with beautiful music in my ears, music that filled me with terrifying doubt. But that experience was immediately followed by new friends and further curiosities of Russia in a positive way, and I walked home from there feeling simply indescribable.

I walked outside after class and said farewell to the two guys I was with because I saw that the tall ships were beginning to leave, and I wanted to see them one last time. I stood for a moment watching them, and I soon noticed that a larger and larger crowd was growing on the embankment as everyone watched two tugs pulling out the second-largest Russian ship, in order to turn her around to head out to sea. The crowd grew larger as Мир (Mir--meaning Earth, or Peace--the same name as the late Russian space station) came about with her bow toward the sea. I started walking down the bank, and Мир's foghorn blew three long blasts in farewell. Immediately, as Мир picked up speed, dozens and dozens and dozens of other ships anchored all around the river blew their horns in response, answering that majestic farewell in chorus. It was music. Gorgeous, beautiful music. I heard a perfect fifth among those horns that seemed to stretch out to to an eternity of oceans, and every sort of pitch and sound mixed together and there were tears in my eyes. In that moment, there was peace. Мир . I had my camera on me as I usually do, and I caught a video of the moment, but I know it can't fully capture the experience.

I have to go to sea. I don't know what that means--maybe I'll become a marine biologist or something like that, maybe I'll do tall ship education programs for kids, maybe I'll be a Merchant Mariner for a while, maybe I'll be a documentarian or something else. Maybe some combination, maybe not even for very long. Anyhow, I couldn't possibly predict what my lifetime career is going to be--much more likely I'll have more than one. But I know that the most peaceful I ever felt was when I spent three weeks aboard the Tole Mour three years ago, and I know deeply the profound sense of longing that these ships make me feel when I see them. I always doubted that I would actually experience such a moment where things make sense even for the tiniest bit of a second, but there it is. That moment of music on the Neva was one. Such moments are out there.