Each and every one of us, we start our journeys alone. We begin this journey at a place that no one else shares with us. That no one but us may ever see or visit.
So when I share the story of my departure on this great journey of life, you might recognize yourself in it to some degree. But never may you find yourself in the place from which I departed.
And thus, you may never know what Om means to me.
Om was my awakening. The spark that ignited the fire within me. I cherish it not as a work of art, but as a conduit of creation. And so it is only fitting, that I start here. Just as I started my journey of life with my eyes finally ripped open after being enraptured by its essence.
To call Om mere music is to me as equally insipid as is likening the great scriptures of religion to fantasy tales. To speak about the manner in which it was created is meaningless to me. The structure in which it unfolds is not something to be analyzed but something to be witnessed. Experienced. It is music, yes, but that is just the way in which it is encoded. Cosmos given musical form. Like a chant that encompasses all creation. An encoded form of life itself.
There are no words that can ever convey how I feel about Om. And I am scared. Scared that thinking too much about it would take its magic away from me forever. And in a world that seems so gray and cold, this little spark of magic is worth more to me than anything else.
You may never experience Om the way I do and so you can ignore everything I said, for it does not apply to you. But maybe, just maybe, you find in it something else. Something to cherish. Or at least something to capture the essence of the lonely nights. Wandering.