Do you ever find yourself mourning something that you can’t name? It’s not a person or a thing, but something intangible, ineffable, and unspeakably beautiful that’s no longer whole, and really hasn’t been whole your entire life—maybe for many lives. I sometimes glimpse a piece of it in odd places, in a haunting song (usually old or in another language), a piece of art or architecture, or a view of a natural setting. Then I start crying. It’s not depression—it’s not even a sadness as much as it is a deep almost euphoric longing for something I can’t quite grasp. Sometimes, I think it is something that could ‘be’ but won’t because it can’t ‘be’ in world as it is. It’s like something that I should remember but that I’ve forgotten. It makes me think of the ancient Egyptian belief that one does not learn magic, one remembers it instead.
Listening to the recording below, I had another bout of that feeling: