We brought some gorgeous steaks and, being men, we started comparing technical details about the best way to fry a steak, or at the very least establishing that we were all agreed on the perfect way to cook a steak. Matt cooked.
I paced around the kitchen restlessly. I could still feel the emotion swirling around after that unleashed aggression inside of me. Stirred, I felt compelled to play the audio from ‘Sukhavati’ by Joseph Campbell. I loaded up the audio and we gathered around the kitchen table, and we listened to the opening words: “I am yesterday, I am today, I am tomorrow, I have the power to be born a second time. All the Gods and Myths live within me.”
I could feel the emotions well up even more now. Why did you move me?
We had been moved, and we had been moved even more. But that was good.
After that, Jeremy and I made our way to the secluded back patio which faced the forest. We put on some music, and Jeremy asked if it was okay to play Sibellius.
Sure. I wasn’t even too sure who he was, but it was wonderful classical music.
“Can you imagine,” I said “what it must have been like hundreds of years ago to have heard this music for the first time in an opera house, at a time when there was barely any music at all.”
Jeremy handed me a joint and I took a few breaths, and leaned back in the garden chair, imagining what it’d be like.
I closed my eyes, picturing myself walking into that 18th or 19th Century opera house for the first time, sitting in front of the musicians as they started playing this ethereal music.
Every chord was communication, every chord hit a nerve, and soon enough a tear trickled down the side of my cheek.
I wasn’t even too sure what I was emotional about, but knew it felt good. An unlocking of emotion. “Did he break into tears? A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so washed.” Shakespeare.
Held like a baby in a garden chair, we listened on. We put on Wagner’s Lohengrin (prelude to Act 1), and if there was one chord that could break my fragile veneer, Wagner hit it, and then the tears kept coming.
It was good to feel some emotion after months of being stuck in a stasis, consumed by all sorts of low-frequency worries and frustrations from various directions. In many ways I felt like a ship in a harbour.
I therefore relished linking up with some other men and going into the unknown. Maybe we’re predisposed for it. To feel that shared urge of sheer combined confidence, knowing what the consequences are but to go for it anyway. Going into the unknown with some others is thrilling. To go and bring something back. It’s rare, though. Maybe only a handful of opportunities in a lifetime. But we seek them.
I looked over at Jeremy. He was leaned back too, looking upwards towards the stars in the cool dark evening, with his eyes glistening in the patio lights.
I looked back up at the stars, too. So good to relax. How difficult it has been to let go.
Matt was standing next to us with three plates of steaks, chips, and salad – we looked at each other and burst into laughter, in complete disbelief of our luck – if there’s was one thing we needed right now, it was a hearty meal, and here it was in front of us! We pulled up our chairs together, tucked in, and then started chatting away and gulping down the food voraciously under the stars, after an eventful first day.