When you get older ‘Moon River‘ is guaranteed to make you all kinds of messy emotional.
It’s one thing you can count on.
I don’t know if it matters if you’ve seen the movie ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s,’ but yeah, every single damn iteration of that song, I can feel my cheeks get tingly and my throat dry, I get these pesky goosebumps on my arm, and my eyes get unusually water-y. I don’t usually cry, but dammit, it’s close.
Moon River, and the like, is a brief pause, a chance to observe your life from an elevated perspective. Like watching a river wind back and forth, flowing onward, from the comfort and safety of a mountain. The glorious thing about it? You can play the song(s) as many times as you like.
Nostalgia. It creeps up, grabs you, and momentarily shakes up and dumps out all of that petty human bullshit you’re clutching onto. It helps you see the forest through the trees. It helps you see the beauty and the best of our humanity. It sharpens the lines, if only momentarily; often, it’s enough.
Music can do that. It can show you the past and the future all at once. At it’s core and at it’s best, music has the power to transcend time and gives us, the listener, the ability to truly time travel.
I believe that if you lay still enough, in a place of happiness, and wear a pair of headphones, music can take you anyplace in the universe. Truly.
So go, go time traveling, venture across the universe, see what you see and hear what you hear. There is no limit to the madness and the magic. After all, that’s what being human is for.
While writing this, I listened to Yann Tiersen’s eloquent and whimsical score for the film, Amelie. I also listened Audrey Hepburn’s simple and touching recording of Henry Mancini’s, Moon River – and I listened to Hans Zimmer’s, ‘Time,’ from the film Inception.