bird's eye view

You're on a hike, a day hike where all of human history is a mountain range. Some of the mountains are green, verdant, lush as spring. Some are gray and snow-capped, some are solid lava long-cooled, burning lakes of fire bubbling inside. Some, and these are the shitty ones, trust me, are totally man-made. Styrofoam. But the mountains are so densely packed, one taller than the next, that all you can see is the mountain you're on, maybe a little of the next one or the one behind you. This hike is long as fuck; luckily you've brought some optimal-assed trail mix that's keeping you in tip-top stride. You're the shit, don't sweat it.

On your hike you walk past everyone who's ever lived. It's only polite to wave hello, hiker's credo, and as you do you notice a range of expression and experience. Any emotion, hope, or dream you can name, lit in the eyes and faces of your fellow hikers. All the evil or good there's ever been, etc. But everyone says hello, down to the best and worst of them, and as you pass you can understand how they all got to where they are, to where they were. What's crazy is you're struck point by point by history, seemingly at random. One hiker's from 1709. Another from 1933, and this kid from 702. Another is from this exact age. Then you're in different calendars, the future, etc.

It's a disorienting trip and you're almost out of trail mix. Fuck this metaphor. Only then you get to the highest peak in the whole range. The highest by far. And out there below you is all human history, everyone and everything there's ever been, and for a minute you can sit on a rock and take it in, that whole god-damned crazy dense trip, before you start back.

For just that interlude you're outside it and this is life, this thing you're looking at from the outside, from a bird's eye view. And the weight's almost too much to bear, but who cares what you can bear because in the end your view only matters so much, it's one in a zillion.

Spent more time with Bach's "Aria Varied in an Italian Manner" today. Variation IX breaks it wide open-- switching the time from 4/4 to 12/8, throwing an aerial view at what had previously just been another fat guy in a South Jersey rec room.