My Musical Series: You Found Me

I wonder: what do I want to talk about? Do I still want to write? I don't want to talk about the mundane, I want to talk about something special. This word, mundane, intrigues me. It, actually, deserves an entire post.

Why can't the mundane be important or special or worthy? If people kill to stay alive and most of them just live mundane lives?! Aren't their lives special? If they kill for their [mundane] beliefs. Why can't I write or talk about the mundane? Simply because there was nothing mundane about that evening. That night was a special night.

I was about to drive somewhere for a special reason and there was a long detour. Surprise, surprise: I didn't get lost... I always get lost. Did you get that? I always get lost. Perhaps it's because I always look for landmarks. Do you know what that meanshere in Florida? It means that you are screwed. I mean, at every corner you see a Walgreens or a freaking gas station. That's just to show you how screwed you are.

But that night, strangely enough, I didn't get lost. I was lucky. No, I don't owe a GPS: I had music. I guess it all started one evening. Yeah, yeah. That's right. It all started with a very loud laughter. To make a long story short, since I don't want to turn this post into a bible, one thing led to the other and one day, I was driving to Miami and listening to a surprise mix CD.

Since I wasn't geographically lost, I was, at least in theory, mentally lost and intrigued. I didn't know the first song. But I liked those words. I liked that voice. I liked that urge, that necessity of belonging, of staying, of finding something, someone. A god, love, a person. I liked that sound of being connected. I liked that bliss that invaded me. I liked to know that somewhere else, there was someone that also liked that song.

I liked the lyrics of track number one, maybe because I was pretending that someone would say those words in a place where I could enjoy them, capture them, hold them so tight that he would never go away. Because part of me wants that piece of happiness. Part of me wants to fall in love for real and just stay floating on that feeling for the rest of her/my life.

So, let me not digress. As I was saying, that night was special. I was going to a concert by one of my favorite singers. I remember nights when I depended on the radio to have fun and Adriana Calcanhotto connected me to a world I dreamed of. A world of art, names of people that changed the world, oddballs, people who didn't see the mundane, people who had this aim to be different and to fight for their space. People who were doing what they wanted. Passionate people. She connected me with what I wanted for myself. I wanted art and sound. I wanted colors. I wanted to be independent. I wanted the theaters and the books and the great books that people read and love and crave for. I wanted the coffee shops and the busy streets. I wanted the tall buildings and the history behind their construction. I wanted the nice views the theories that hide behind our day-today lives. I wanted to see the mysterious course life takes when we study something, when we're good with words - spoken or written.

So that night, as I headed to Miami, that song connected me with another world, which is in essence, the same world. The world of red hearts, question marks, affection, a world that never stays still, but always expands. A world that grows and takes my breath away because of its wild beauty. That chaos that makes my soul bleed the sweetness of inescapable truths. Liberating tears.

That song, You Found Me by The Fray, made me think about all those years of solitude, my anguish to find G-d. The minutes, hours, years that I've waited and the reasons why I don't wait anymore. That song made me feel again.

So if I connect the dots, I am pretty much the same girl: I am still that girl who wanted to see the world. Mind you, my Dear Reader, the verb "to see" [the world] doesn't convey that desire. I wanted to absorb, like a sponge, the world. I wanted to be part of it, but I also wanted to watch it from a distance. It's only from that distance that I can write about what I see. Not only "You Found Me" connected me with my adult self, but it also reconnected me with a numb self. It connected me with my jaded self.

I don't know if you're late, I don't know if you're going to find me one day, I don't know if I am going to find you, G-d, or anything else. However, I did imagine all those things when I was driving to Miami. That was so powerful. That in itself was a gift. And the very thought of having you - whoever you are - gave me hope: a kind of Hope that puts us, people, in another level of existence. That's why now I dance. I dance to the end of the songs you gave me and I have many reasons to believe.