Transcendence - Day 3

The rumbling music seemed to sprinkle out of the speakers. Not bothering to enter my ears, it fluttered straight through my skin, using my body as its medium. It was a frosty night, and yet the window was cracked. Up in front were some people I scarcely knew, but the atmosphere connected us like a time honored bond. Somewhere in my addled mind I knew the bond, and the feelings, and the atmosphere, were ephemeral. They popped into being as if they were written into existence by a medieval scientific text. I also knew that they would just as easily vanish, and the most wonderful feeling of melancholy welled up inside me, urging me to ride out the wave and worry about the afters afterwards.

The passing lights were the drab creations of the utilitarian minds of some underpaid urban planners, but for me they floated and skipped, became part of the music, expressing feeling with as much soul as an aging singer in a musty jazz club who's remembering the thrilling, organic feeling of inner inspiration. I was shivering from the crisp, freezing air, but its divine smell became intertwined in the experience as well, scattering in my mind timeless memories of autumn forests, still pine trees standing and staring at the world in perfect geometry.

When it ended, it ended like waking from a dream. The doors opened, the atmosphere was sucked out into the infinite expanse of the night, dissipating as quickly as a cup of tea tossed into the ocean. It was a gift. It was a gift from nowhere, a gift from nothing, an inexplicable moment of divinity that sends small pains down the spine when one remembers it in the doldrums of daily life. Transcendence. Here's what it can look like. This will help you remember.