This morning as I walked across town to the studio, a warm feeling washed over me, and it wasn't the 95
°/feels like 110
° Savannah weather, it was the music. Sometimes I'll go into a period of meditation, not always the good kind, where I'm stuck in my head, playing and replaying all the decisions I have to make, things I have to do, roughing myself up for various things, hardly able to listen to the people around me, let alone let the music in. This morning I rediscovered my headphones while cruising the 30 or so minute foot commute to Fahm st, and the perfect song came blaring through them, creating his aura, this happy place that surrounds me and seems to come alive, making me feel like 'how did I ever survive without this song?'
There is something about traveling music. It puts a different rhythm in my step and my head starts bopping as a grin forms in the corners of my mouth. It feels magical, as if nothing could be more perfect at this moment. I forget for a second that the music isn't filling the space around me, and feel like everyone nearby is enjoying it with me. Suddenly there is nothing I'd rather be doing than walking in this oppressive humidity and blazing sunlight....everything is more fun when you're dancing.
As I beebop around town, I start to notice things I didn't before. I wonder, how many little light bulbs does it take to illuminate the WALK sign? Did James Oglethorpe rest against this very tree a few hundred years ago? Why can't I go through the bank drive through on my bicycle? Dang, I am thrown off when I'm reminded that my bike has been stolen. But then the chorus kicks in and I quickly recover. The bag of metal I'm carrying is heavy, and I can feel the beads of sweat dripping down my back, but it matters not, because the most perfect song is playing and I'm walking and I'm smiling and my mind is creating and all is right with the world. I'm lost in the music.
