I’m together with your plan to save me.
- Chris Cornell
The sharing proof part is what I’m struggling with. Do I have your permission to prove this? Is this only meant for some of us to know? If it takes me a billion words to explain, would anyone bother to read them?
I have had tons of musical experiences in the middle, I'd have to write a novel if I shared them all. Every single time I've done it, I have encountered life-altering enlightenment beyond words. I have discovered unimaginable beauty and important life lessons to bring back with me.
A snippet of what happened last time: Grace, Too by The Tragically Hip was finishing up, and it had taken me to the moon. I was tasked to rebuild from the ending of Fight Club, where the city is demolished. Strange structures started to sprout from within the blackness in different shades of grey and black. I was a giant, disembodied head sitting in the dust, gazing up towards the black void, generating the growth around me with my mind. There were no stars here, but it was still so beautiful that I started to full on sob.
So now I'm this head that's ugly crying in the dark, sitting on the desert moon, with a pool of tears growing at my chin like a salty oasis in the desert. I was becoming so thirsty, but I couldn't drink because I had no arms.
Then "Burden in my Hand" started playing. It felt as though Chris Cornell was directly accusing me of following him into that desert. I laughed, and he told me to crack a smile and drown in alcohol. As this happened, all of the stars lit up in the void, and they pulsated along with his voice. He became the sun and the stars that were singing. He asked things like if I'd cry for him if he lost his head, too. It was just so funny; the lyrics were so ridiculously on point to both the singular moment and the bigger picture, and how it randomly came on at such an opportune moment was the icing on the cake.
He said the moon was glued to heaven and that all the little pigs found god. Hell, he even said:
Kill your health and kill yourself And kill everything you love And if you live, you can fall to pieces And suffer with my ghost.
As a disembodied head on the moon (from a city that was compared to a moonscape by NASA), with suicidal ideation and depression, struggling with police who I don’t feel are doing their jobs properly, it felt pretty damn profound to have a man who committed suicide sing that to me in such a beautiful place. He was so alive in there, it felt personal. And like I said, this is just one of tons of crazy vivid song experiences that were life-altering in a very good way.
I had gone into that session hoping that "Dog Days are Over" would play, but it wasn't until I came back to my body—when I needed it most—that it came on and gave me the boost I needed to be okay with returning to the human experience for now. I didn't get what I had hoped for, I got what I needed. I would never believe any of what I saw possible until I saw it for myself. I hate the limits of even trying to convert it to readable words, because it was a million times better than what I can ever say.