Music.

Ask me why I like music.

As I drive down the freeway the storm warnings don't make things look good. I had a late departure from Walla Walla and as it got later in the day the weather kept decaying in pleasantness. Two-hundred miles lay ahead of me and as far as my eyes could decifer it was going to be snow the entire way. A sign saying "Caution: snow blowing across the road." Waving goodbye with its harsh yellow flick on, flick off, flick on, flick off the sign dissapeared into the fog of my rearview mirror and I flicked it up as I would if there was a Dodge Ram coming up behind me with its brights on. I wouldn't be using it anyway in this weather. The fog isolated my car in a miniature world, trapped in a snow globe filled with road, ice, snow, and my single vehicle moving forever on clock-wound wheels as some divorced mother placed my reality on a shelf next to elementary school pictures of her lonely children. At this moment of clarity "Waking Up" by a forgotten downtempo band called Saru came up on my iPod, the trusty sidekick for roadtrips that makes a dog or a best friend seem like just more baggage. I had never heard the song before. Suddenly the fog extended my visibility and I began to see the snow dancing across the road in sheets. The shifting winds made the dry, powdered snow glide slowly and erraticly across the pure black asphalt. It was literally the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. At this moment the world seemed to move to the beat of the music. Every snare hit cued a shift in the wind, every slow droan of the synthesizer marked a flare across my windshield evenly timed with the slow beat beat beat of the wipers. The word "harmony" comes to mind.
Everything in my tiny snow globe made sense. I had beauty, solitude, pleasure, and most of all, a clear mind. I thought of nothing but the music and the snow. I did not believe that someone could live a life in a moment, but I did that day.

Ask me why I love music.