When you meet people who are passionate about something, their passion can be infectious. And sometimes that thing they love rubs off on you.
For me, in high school, my love for baroque music rubbed off on more than one friend. When I got to college, one of my music history professors was nearly obsessed with Monteverdi, the subject of his doctoral research. As you might imagine, Monteverdi took up a lot of our music history II class and then I later took a seminar with him focused on early Italian baroque. My friend at school took his general music appreciation class, which was also chock-full of Monteverdi.
I just put on the recording by Concerto Italiano: Daylight: Stories of songs, dances, and loves. When Zefiro Torna came on, I was immediately transported back. Not to the class, per se, but remembering playing it (again) for my friend when he came to my room.
Bob was someone I had this shared experience with, not only the professor, but in discovering this early Italian baroque music together. For a split second, I thought to reach out to him, grabbing my phone.
An apt reminder to enjoy all we can in life. Sadly I can’t reach out to him. You, like me, may take for granted the gift of waking up every day, to experience new things. For me, my days are filled listening to music, tasting good food, and the pleasure of thinking and writing. Maybe not the same as traveling the world and soaking in the world’s diversity, but nonetheless, it’s my comfort, my choices.
Experiencing great things for the first time often has made an impression on me, which I think it does for others too: seeing a great painting, discovering a great piece of music? Tasting a new food. Whether we celebrate the serendipity of discovering these ourselves (as I discovered baroque music) or through friends and others (soupy dumplings, anyone?) all of that can disappear in an instant.
It really sucks when someone you admire passes. Let it be a reminder for us to live for ourselves. For me, the comfort of my introvertedness is something I have to fight—to remind myself that old friends exist and it’s not the worst thing to reach out and connect again.
Even just to share the joys of discovering the way people used to celebrate the annual return of the windy season. The windows rolled down in one’s car, the stereo turned up on high.