Our Lonely Western World

I'm often surprised by the places I will find beautiful things... I found this excerpt of writing in my anthropology textbook in a section about reverse culture shock. It's written by a cultural anthropologist, Alan Beals (1980) upon returning home to San Francisco after a year of fieldwork in a village in India.

We could not understand why people were so distant and hard to reach, or why they talked and moved so quickly. We were a little frightened at the sight of so many white faces and we could not understand why no one stared at us, brushed against us, or admired our baby.

We could not understand the gabble of voices on the television set. When we could understand people, they seemed to be telling lies. The trust and warmth seemed to have gone out of life to be replaced by coldness and inhumanity. People seemed to have no contact with reality. All of the natural human processes--eating, sleeping together, quarreling, even playing--seemed to be divorced from earth and flesh. Nowhere could we hear the soft lowing of cattle or the distant piping of the shepherd boy.

Candide

I spent 12 hours today, completely focused on music. Practicing horn, piano, studying music history, music theory, rehearsals and sectionals, and just listening to music. Now, I sit here, trying to read my anthropology textbook, and it's like it's in another language I don't understand. I try to read a paragraph, and I realize I'm just skimming the entire thing while Candide Overture and The Messiah battle in my head. It's so loud. There is so much music drifting in and out of my thoughts, it's difficult to think of anything else. It's a feeling somewhat like being stuffed up from a bad cold.

Right now, my life only makes sense in music. I've only been back at music school for three weeks, and I'm already submerged in the depth of it all. It's incredibly difficult, stressful, and overwhelming, but I love it.

Asking for flowers is like asking you to be nice.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNELkebgB9U