October 2022, Telemark, Norway
Marja said, "If you're going to come up to Rauland, you have to be there for the dance we have every Wednesday."
I said, "That's in two days."
And she said, "Yes, it is."
So I replied, "I guess I'll be there in two days then."
And so I was. In the middle of the countryside, in a barn that pulsed like a beating heart of sound and light in the vast darkness.
Everything I heard was made by the people there in that moment. There were no speakers, no amps—just a violinist in the corner, the stamping of feet, and the shouts of joy.
As I was spun around, half-drunk and half-dreaming, everything became a blur except for my partner's face. She had a smile that shone steady against the swirling lights, like a midnight moon breaking through streaming clouds.
A real smile, you know—the kind that shows all the teeth. I savored that moment for its beauty, holding it close in my heart. I began to think of life as music, for there are so many beautiful notes. But the thing about notes is, as sweet as they are, they don’t last forever—and they aren’t meant to. You need to make space for the next notes if you're going to have a song.
Enjoy it and let it pass.
And maybe those notes come again as a motif, like old friends, but in a new light. The same goes for notes you might disagree with—those, too, shall pass and may even harmonize with the ones that follow. Let the notes come, for they make a song, and songs make a dance, and dances make a night. I think life is the same. It’s a collection of moments, so let them flow one into the next and see what they become as a whole.
It’s the only way.
Sometimes we stumble, feeling a bit lost, a bit clumsy. I did, most definitely. But with a steady hand from my partner, we found the music again, and moved to it—and to each other. And it was alright. It was better than alright. Because when we found the flow again, we were flying.
Listen to the music, and trust how you feel.
Is it picking up now? Do you hear it?
I think I have to go for this one. I think it’s taking me away.
Take care. I’ll see you at the next song, alright?
Notes