Lucky me, getting to attend two Jonsi shows in one year. Yesterday’s show was just as moving and entertaining and beautiful as the first; a stunning backdrop with still and moving images projected onto it, all kinds of lights (flashing at times, strobe-ing at times, still/off at times), and above all, absolutely gorgeous music filling every inch of the old theater we were standing together in.
It’s tough to describe his show, let alone his music – do explore some of the videos on his website (or these on Pitchfork) if you’re interested. It’s also tough to process both his show and his music…last night, we all just stood around after it ended, not quite sure what to feel or say or do. I had mixed feelings – half of me felt incredibly alone and overwhelmed, while the other half wanted to seize every opportunity presented by every moment and just stay awake and alive forever – I felt like I’d just been shown and told that the world is, indeed, a place overflowing with beauty and joy and grace.
Anyways. I was reminded of this passage I came across a few weeks ago, one I’d been waiting for the right time to share:
When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears. Like that sky. It’s rain and sun both, noon and midnight… I think of the lips I’ve kissed, and of the wretched child I was, and of the madness of life and the ambition that sometimes carries me away. I’m all those things at once. I’m sure there are times when you wouldn’t even recognize me. Extreme in misery, excessive in happiness – I can’t say it.
–from Albert Camus’ A Happy Death
Haven’t we all felt this way? So overwhelmed in ways both good and bad, so much so that we fear we won’t be recognized, even by those we stand in front of.