The Reason Vol 11

For some reason, this song tends to slip its way into the midnight delirium of contemplation and questioning.

Fade off into the vivid lights of the Chicago skyline.

The beauty of not knowing a song’s origin, is that the space inside your mind associated with it pertains only to experiencing it, rather than trying to rationalize its source. In this particular situation, Your Loving Arms appeared to materialize inside an iPod, a curious byproduct of the shuffle all function.

I’ve always had an affinity for electronic, club oriented music, and have repressed that for probably the past 2–4 years at the expense of looking “cultured” in terms of music. And, as repressed feelings or thoughts continue to be repressed, their effect only grows. Although, my relapse into electronic music has been a smooth one, not something I would liken to an explosion of repressed thought.

Similarly, this track slipped into my synapses as I scrolled through my Itunes library in hopes of finding something that would stick out, proving once again that opening yourself up in such a way will result in receiving something.

Music stands out as a creative facet that can be present amongst any situation. It is that premise that caused me to start this newsletter in the first place. A space of musical reflection in regards to the associations that music brings.

With a larger than average family that has since branched off, a simple trip to Chicago meant being the last one home, for all the others needed to be dropped off in their various nooks. As the headcount of a cramped Ford Freestar gradually faded into the retreating sunset, my only companion tended to be music. All that was on my Ipod was of my design, but the order in which it was expressed was always a matter of fate.

Blurred lights raced outside of the car windows as I repositioned my head on the rigid carseat, trying to find the line between awake or sleep. For some reason Your Loving Arms consistently found itself accompanying me on these journey’s so much that the song began to exist only within the frame of a delirious drive home from Chicago.

The song curiously serves as a parallel to my current situation- a blurring of being in the city or not, an almost euphoric sense of uncertainty, although accompanied by a consistent beat, echoing between skyscrapers.

As the shades begin to draw on the window of summer, the sunset of of opportunity punctures the dying light, exposing the hopes of a new school year.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.