I'm in a notoriously franchised coffee shop right now doing some writing. I don't like franchised coffee shops at all, but I had to get out of the house to get some work done (my parents' house has become a black hole for all productivity recently). I escape the house by coming here, and I escape 'here' by putting my headphones on and listening to music. I also read a blog today about certain music which was also a nice little escape. But music, my friends, is much more than an escape.
I'm convinced that music has beautiful salvific properties. I cannot think of any other medium that has inspired so much self-reflection, been a catalyst for so much creativity, and been such a harbour in the tempest for me. Eliade believed that Christianity could not be a religion because it lacked continual theophanies (appearances of God to man) and has tried to regurgitate one theophany for the past two thousand years. I wonder whether he listened to music, because in the same way I am to see Jesus in the face of the passerby, I see the divine show up in musical expression. Music isn't God, but I definitely think it speaks to the existence of the transcendent.
The sheer beauty of albums like "með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust," "parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme," or "seven swans" can sometimes be overwhelming, and makes me wonder how people can divorce the divine from the experiential so easily.
Today, it was while listening to "in rainbows" for the first time in a couple of months, amidst the chatter of this coffee shop, that these thoughts were brought to the surface.
Also, on a side note, I finally was able to get work done on character/setting profiles and plot points for my 'faux-end-of-the-world-theophany-story' that's been kicking around for a while.