I remember hearing a quote a while back about how Hell is actually that moment before death where you look back at your life and meet the person you could have been. To me, anxiety - my most persistent enemy - appears in this form every day. It haunts me with notions of regret, attempting to rip apart my chest until its empty. Of course, it’s never going to be empty. And of course, this is a stupid way to live life.
This past weekend, I had the amazing opportunity of watch a jam session between five lifelong, jazz musicians. Whenever I see older musicians perform together, there is never a sense of urgency or stress in their faces. The music simply overtakes them, the melody gently riding along to the rhythm of the percussions. Despite an hour of sleep the night before, seeing these five jazz musicians play perfectly like the gears of an immaculate music box reaffirmed my love for music. And in that moment, everything felt ok again.