People are like harmonies
with meeting people, perhaps it’s like the feeling of discovering a new song. You could not have described it beforehand, but you know immediately upon hearing it that it’s exactly what you were looking for.
Discovering the song is so mesmerizing, intoxicating, its existence suddenly so necessary that you find yourself listening to it on repeat; it seems to fit every moment of every day, and illuminate even the most ordinary routines — walking down the unchanged street, hopping onto the same metro car, somehow you feel more enlivened.
But is the song simply what you need in that moment? How long will its illumination last?
Think of all the songs that have once invigorated you — the ones you no longer listen to. Too much time spent with them has deadened their intrigue. These songs keep longing to come into play again, but invariably — without even thinking — you skip over them. They satisfied a transient need that has since passed.
People are similar. But what makes someone a fleeting harmony vs. an everlasting one? Is it their capacity to see you as an ever-changing harmony yourself, and you them?
Yes, perhaps that is what differentiates the two (fleeting vs. everlasting, conditional vs. unconditional) — the capacity to naturally morph and adapt alongside one another. “Naturally” is paramount — for if two harmonies are to remain together, their changes must occur not only willingly but without considerable friction.
And so the harmonies will keep on adjusting and readjusting, both independently and because of one another, soaring further and further toward their pinnacle states of being. So much so that if you pause to reflect, you can scarcely imagine what yours sounded like before theirs came along. It’s not that one would now sound incomplete without the other, not at all; together, the two simply resound more; together, they are deep, sonorous, soul-moving music.