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.

Ithaca

I'm sitting in McDonalds just checking my email for a bit before I get dinner at host-home and then go out. I just read the following poem, sent to me by my mom. This afternoon I remembered my last night at Tufts two months ago, and now that seems a million miles away because I feel so much more mature and alive and experienced and wise. I feel older. I don't know how to describe it. This is a really hard thing that I'm doing but it's exactly where I need to be right now, and it will lead me to the future, whatever it may be. Things change, but maybe not in the ways you expect them to--and maybe that's alright. There's a kind of comfort in that. I was going to write more, but this is all I want to say right now, because after reading that poem, all of a sudden I feel infinite.*


Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)


* A reference to another book that meant more to me than I know how to express, lent to me last summer, when I needed it most, by the most important peson I've ever known. It was another occasion when I read exactly the right book at exactly the right time.