We drove into Oakland last night with two gentlemen to see Sigur Ros perform. One from New York, one from San Diego, and two from Calgary. Us.
We arrive at the Fox Theatre just in time. I will try to describe the experience to you, because when you see something beautiful, sometimes you need to share it. Or try to.
Mark and I. Sitting beside someone where your hand can travel wordlessly to their hand, squeeze and they know exactly what you mean is so wonderful. You don’t have to take your eyes off the stage. We communicated a thousand variations of ‘Isn’t this awesome?!’ Squeeze back yes. Slow squeeze ‘This is too beautiful.’ Belated squeeze ‘I know, it is.’ I had this overwhelming sensation of being so grateful that I was sitting next to Mark while feeling so alone in my own experience at the same time. He provided no distraction; he was just there with me, my partner. We both had our own experiences sitting side by side and that is a beautiful thing. Sometimes I feel so defeated with my words later. I want to describe exactly how I felt to him, to others, but it’s so hard after the moment has passed. I have to learn to be at peace with this and those moments that are only possible to share with my own little self.
How do such beautiful sounds exist in the same world where the sound of bombs exists? Where pain exists. My simple mind cannot comprehend their strange juxtaposition. It is beyond me. The whole night was beyond me. Just too much in every sensory way possible. We could have been sitting in an empty room watching dust particles lazily float about and it would have moved me to tears. Waves slowly gaining momentum. Ice freezing across glass surfaces. A single strand of light or a thousand. A speck of sand. Crescendos built and built and built and built and built and built. A lone trombone. A haggard bow on guitar strings. A fallen sheet.
I remembered Sunday morning, quite a few years ago. It was sunny, we were driving. Sigur Ros was playing and building through the speakers. We were quiet until Dave turned to me and said ‘Look, Beth. It’s heaven.’ It was just a regular day. It was a magical day.
That's the drummers shadow projected on the wall.
Couldn't be happier, we two.