Raindrops patter on the awning and construction workers dig into soil just beyond as bustling bikers wheel through the dampened streets. My cup, three quarters full of drip coffee of unknown origin to me, slightly creamed, adds its own moisture to the already thick air.

Things aren’t so clear anymore. I observe the world around me as if I were in a foreign land, picking out objects without judgement and free from my previous perception of them. Yet, I now realize my eyesight has diminished. Objects in space seem slightly blurred.

The past month has shifted my world and my eyesight now seems to be a metaphor for how noticing has revealed clarity through blur. The story that I’ve told myself about my world, the contents in it, and where I am going has broken down. My newfound clarity regarding the lack of control I have regarding the events around me and my reaction to them envelops my sense of self, blurring my identity.

We all have a story we tell ourselves about world around us. I’ve always been romantic about opportunities on the horizon but now I sense a newfound excitement of the ephemeral. Like when traveling, I have both a narrative around where I am and why I’m there alongside a complete detachment from it.

If this is a story of ego, it’s also a story of attachment, non-attachment. The epic beauty of having an idea, an opportunity, or person in your life- even if it’s yourself- that comforts you through narrative. Breaking down that narrative is the fun part. What’s left is your true self. Embrace the blur.

There are probably ten open google docs with a few words to a couple paragraphs typed down. Inspiration, contemplation, stagnation, deletion. Cycles and cycles of enlightenment, tidbits of my one, small existence yearning to be released through word. Ultimately, unfulfilled: a jarring poetic stop-and-go that holds the same sentiment as reading Pessoa’s Book Of Disquiet, or the labyrinth in Borges’s Garden of Forking Paths. Chunks of insight, pulses of deeply, spiritually communicative and evocative prose, left for the ether..

Dreams and reality are blurred. One is never quite sure which carries a closer glimpse of existential liberation and enlightenment.

“I’ve never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

“This web of time – the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries – embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not.” Borges, Garden of Forking Paths

Pessoa’s dream existence is a poetic response -rather, another dimension- to Borge’s labyrinth. What does this mean for us, for art?..

“I am not sure that I exist actually, I am all the writers that I have read.” — Jorge Luis Borges

..we all have an intuition of the labyrinth. It’s the artist’s calling to make sense of it. Music, poetry, an experiential meal, signifying everything and nothing at all. All of us, together, as an osmosis of thought; story lines being constructed in the mid brain.

“To know nothing about yourself is to live. To know yourself badly is to think.”
― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

The poetic irony from Pessoa to Borges becomes clear: the story is never finished. A labyrinth forever, even dreaming. Let’s make art about it.

Jean Langer Photography. https://www.jeanlanger.com/

Hoosier Mama, a leek and sausage biscuit and black light roast coffee later, I’m feeling much better about my last place voice competition stance last night. I was the first one to sing and gave my most heartfelt and technically sufficient performance so far in my singing career.. but it landed me last place out of the 5 singers competing for $5000 worth of prize money.

I woke up in a fuzz this morning, having slept for over twelve hours. My eyes gazed at the congratulatory flowers on my desk, reminding me of my successes earlier this week. A mix of emotions rose me out of bed. I lugged myself out of my apartment, hobbled to the closest coffee shop, feeling the left-over pain from the Chicago Marathon in my feet exacerbated from standing in 4 inch heels all night along the way. There, I buried my mind in my biology homework. A slide read:

“measuring the integrity of sound processing at basic levels of the auditory system opens a window on human communication and the imprint of a life spent in sound”

OK, so everyone in that competition room heard something different last night depending on their life spent in sound. For me, I heard my best performance to date, felt the emotion of the content and what it means to me, which might have been out of context for the rest of the singers or judges in the room. Maybe, being the youngest person in the room, my sound was less impressive, or maybe I just need my “life spent in sound” to be curated in a different way through more experience.

In the 12 hours since the competition, I’ve been thinking about how these feelings are manifesting themselves, and how, as I make a career switch, the notion of subjectivity will carry through from a life spent in sound to a life spent in taste.

I pull up an article about Michelin Guide inspectors out of curiosity. The criteria that inspectors base their award decisions are the following:

Michelin Inspector’s 5 Restaurant Rating Criteria:
1. Quality of products
2. Mastery of flavor and cooking techniques
3. The personality of the chef represented in the dining experience
4. Value for money
5. Consistency between inspectors’ visits

The subjectivity that frustrated the hell out of me in the results for the show last night and that has slowly been pushing me towards a world of gastronomy will remain. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to it all: the ephemeral, subjective, experiential nature of an opera performance, a dining experience. The peaks and the valleys are thrilling, and the discussion of why is more important than the final results, whether a Michelin Star or a Grammy.

Connecting this back to my Biological Foundations of Sound and Music class: experience changes the afferent (ear to brain) processing capability of the neurological auditory pathway.

This is all going to take time. Back to the bottom of the totem pole.