If you scan down the page, you'll find a picture of a Guatemalan volcano.
Welcome to the last week of my life.
I returned today after, quite literally, more than 24 hours of traveling (tiny rural village of Paraxaj to Guatemala City to Miama to JFK airport to Newark airport to Pittsburgh airport to public transit to home) from what I'd consider the most important and powerful week of my life.
Still, though, I'm too close to the action right now to be able to sort through the impact that my time living in an impoverished village will have on my life — the feelings are too fresh, too new. All I can say is that I'm not sure I'll ever be the same, or that I can ever again willingly embrace the foolish wastefulness of American culture.
But that's another topic for another blog.
Like any intense patch of life, there's music for every emotion. I went into my week in Guatemala with very few expectations for what music I'd crave, and for many of the most intense moments (visiting a family of 10 living in a house the size of a Cadillac), there was simply no music at all that fit.
I wanted nothing but silence.
But, surprisingly, one band rose to the top for those moments when sight and sound matched perfectly: Dr. Dog.
Sure, Explosions in the Sky popped up on the moments when we were driving through the mountains and RJD2 was played in our room when spirits were feeling funky, but Dr. Dog was consistently the band I came back to during the few moments when I needed a musical kick in the pants.
Why? Because Dr. Dog music makes me happier than any other band I can think of.
Just check out "The Breeze." The ethereal, floating harmonies, the slow, bopping melody, the sprinkled piano and plucked-toy guitar. The rhythm driving forward so steadily, so playfully.
And, of course, the line, "What blows us here today will blow us all away...the breeze will blow us all away."
With only one week in the tiny village of Paraxaj, I did feel that the breeze blew me in and swept me away just as quickly. And like the best music should, Dr. Dog brought out the words I couldn't find.
Posts
Great post Justin. Sounds like you had a really moving experience in Guatemala. I can remember having similar feelings when I returned from my AJWS trip. Literally the day after I got back I was sipping daiquiris with friends at a four star beach resort in Florida, and wondering if I could really live a life like that and be true to myself at the same time.
ReplyDeleteGuatemala was an intense experience. And I was filled with indignation (verging on the self-righteous) when I returned. For good or bad, I spoke my mind about how I was feeling, especially when it came to the money loving materialism of American Jews. I don't think that I regret what I said, but I'm sure I could have made my case a little less condescendingly. I'm also trouble that I've lost a lot of that indignation as time went on, and becoming part of the real world crept closer and closer and now its almost here.
Anyways, I'm interested to hear how this experience is going to affect you, and your writing. I find it interesting that you didn't want to listen to music during your trip. I remember craving music during my trip, and not so much as a distraction but more as a way to provide needed emotional context to the experience (if that makes any sense.)
So, I guess my question for you is: Did the experience change the way you value music? Did listening to Dr. Dog after your trip help you find a new or renewed understanding of the meaning or many meanings and values of music?
I'm probably taking this all a little far, but I'm interested to hear more about how this experience shaped your worldview and your understanding of music.
Zach