On February 24th, The Antlers' frontman Peter Silberman released his solo album, Impermanence. Although Impermanence is only a mere six songs long, I waited months for its release and am overjoyed during every moment of it. Peter Silberman released a few songs prior to the entire album's release -- Karuna, New York and Ahimsa -- but nothing could prepare me for the full album. When I left my class today, I listened to it immediately, taking in both the new music and my rainy, chilly surroundings. This afternoon, while enjoying a cozy atmosphere accompanied by coffee and candlelight, I give the album another listen.
Impermanence opens with Karuna: a piece Silberman describes as a meditation on compassion. The word "karuna" is Sanskrit for compassion. On his website, Silberman describes the song as a call out for compassion. Although he was reflecting on his temporary hearing loss, I have related the song to recent political times. In my own interpretation, I listen to the song and wonder where most politicians' compassion is. The song blends Silberman's renowned lyrics and voice into a wonderful, meditative song. Although it is almost nine minutes long, I enjoy every moment from start to finish. I particularly love the end when he recites, "I need your name. Karuna..." In this political climate, I can relate to that same chant.
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I can't help but sing along with the album's second song, New York. My voice can't compare to Peter Silberman's, but the song is so peaceful that I can't help it. In the song, Peter Silberman reflects on the mundane sounds of New York: buses, honking horns and trains. Someone may take those sounds for granted, but Peter Silberman reflects on them with the perspective of his temporary deafness. New York is appropriate because I have recently been reflecting on how much I take for granted. Instead of being bothered by the late-night Amtrak roaring through Kalamazoo, sunshine pouring through my blinds when I'm not ready to wake or the music of noisy neighbors, I have been trying to reorient my perspective. If I can enjoy each moment as it is, free of complaints, I think I can achieve a state of peace. Simple aspects of life make it sweet, so I have been particularly aware of what might seem mundane and have learned to appreciate it. New York serves as a reminder to be aware and appreciative of my surroundings.
As I appreciate the cloudy scenery just outside my window, skeptical but appreciative of this mild day in February, Gone Beyond plays next on the album. With each song, I think, "Okay, this one is my favorite." It may be impossible to pick a favorite, but this one might be mine. With this song, I breathe deeply in rhythm with this simple melody. Silberman's voice is subdued, but his lyrics are complex. Gone Beyond proves that much can be said with minimalism. As I am reflecting on this album, it's hard for me to describe each song other than, "This one is so good!" I'm simply speechless, so you'll have to take my word when I say it's an absolute delight. In the last two minutes of the song, Silberman introduces a bass, background singers, and a melody reminiscent of a lounge singer in some alternate, David Lynch universe. This may be my favorite moment in any song I have heard in my 21 years.
With the end of the album, I'm speechless. Maya reminds me somehow of a campfire, swimming in a lake or perhaps a late night with friends with the undertone of knowing that the moment is fleeting. Ahimsa and its "no violence, no violence" chant are comforting in a political realm that is aggressive both toward people and the environment. It reminds me that anger is a futile way to spend energy if you are not reorienting it toward something positive. Although I doubt I will ever have the answer to the question of balancing frustration with the status quo and a peaceful state of mind, Ahimsa offers some guidance. On his website, Peter Silberman quotes Thich Nhat Hanh, the author of Peace is Every Step. If Hanh can maintain that peace is crucial even as he witnessed the Vietnam war, I can do the same in my ordinary, meaningless problems. "No violence, no violence, no violence today," Silberman repeats during the conclusion of the song. I think it's a fair assessment to say that he is referring to emotional violence just as he is referring to physical. Since the election, I have attempted a personal philosophy of being nothing but peaceful to myself and others, while maintaining a policy of not complaining. I'm not perfect at it, but it feels good when I do it.
Silberman concludes Impermanence with a track by the same name. It's a concept fundamental to several sects of Buddhism and one I have struggled to reconcile. At times, I'm removed from a moment I'm enjoying with an abrupt, "This is going to end." Everything is impermanent; it's a concept that has both comforted me and caused me sleepless nights. We can take comfort in knowing that our suffering is impermanent, but how can we make peace with knowing all that we enjoy will not last forever? I don't know the answer to that. Perhaps I never will. Yet with the album and years of personal reflection, maybe I'm okay with it. We are only guaranteed each other and the present.
Let's do our best with what we can.
