A Man and his Songs at The End of the World

There are those who would notice if the birds stopped singing and one morning humanity awoke to silence.

As millions ventured out into traffic and the noises of trade filled the air, some would stay home to mourn, unwilling to play a part in the world for to them it would have
lost its meaning.

And what is meaning? I have struggled with this question for years. The question that dwarfed all my achievements and turned all my milestones into pebbles. Does what I do matter in the
grand scheme of things? The elephant in many a room, the question So What? A thought that has troubled many great minds, and produced some of our best art. For we all wonder at it, in
moments when we see the Earth for what it is, big and empty. Solomon, the monarch who had it all and knew it all, couldn’t answer this old question. Jazz giant Miles Davis with the birdlike phrases of his trumpet seemed to be asking this question too?

In my life, in the past three years, there has been an apocalypse, an unveiling and that which was hidden was a reality that I had never confronted, a question I had yet to ask myself. It came to me when I least expected it, on my way to the heights of a career in music, how does it all end? Is there value in what I do...who I am outside myself? Gold is not an object of its own knowledge. Fire doesn’t burn itself. That it was possible to be considered great and not see this greatness in oneself. Too much philosophy! I should have put the books down sooner when they had begun to read better than the Book of Life.

In my defense, the only reason I turned to books was that life had banished me or so it seemed. A broken family, years of education revealed to be years of indoctrination and miseducation, a morally bankrupt political class, a global system that blamed the common man for the damage inflicted upon society by the exploits of the wealthy, hyper-individualism in the age of social media, high costs of living, suicidal thoughts, near-death experiences, false gods and the ever-present reality of death. The whole world it seemed was against me so I fled and let the great souls of old heal mine in hiding. But for how long would these ghosts keep me company as flesh and blood died from a lack of inspiration? For how long would I play the enlightened victim?

As Adam named the beasts of the air, land, and sea so are we to bestow meaning to the world around us. Whatever happens to us derives its meaning from us. Whatever happened to me is
named by me, in the past, I named my sufferings pain but henceforth they shall be called purification. What I previously called impossible I shall now call obstacle, even in this age of existential impossibility where we fear life more than death.

This is the story of how a man, a victim became master of his captivity by showing compassion to his captors, by re-naming his screams of pain and agony songs of growth and liberation, by
forging the chains of debt, depression, and existential dread that bind him and his generation into wings of steely freedom.

This is my story, the story of a man and his songs at the end of the world. And even if the birds fall silent, I will sing with my dying breaths through these cold 21st Century nights and at dawn they will join in chorus.

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