Not Myth.

I had this line in my 20 things to do before 20 list:

Watched a Keane concert in the front row.

Yes, and only several months before me hitting twenty the band really visited this (awfully) disorganized corner of the world. I grasped, my mouth gaped, and  the sky once again became a possibility.

A concert, besides all the glamour it advertises and the somewhat (now but not-really-then) mortifying starstruck moments we all must’ve experienced once upon a time (yep, I’m talking when I, for one, could not hold myself back from hysterically screaming “Tom Chaplin I LOVE YOU!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!” till I supposed the man got a chill), has so much more to it. For me personally, when the whole stage is all dark and everybody’s getting quiet, and your heart starts beating faster for you know your favourite great musicians are only a second away from hitting your all-time favourite tunes. And when it does happen, all of a sudden, the stage glows, music fills your ear and your soul, it kind of feels as though you were back in your bedroom with your tiny music player, only this time with the actual stellar stars playing live and only thousands other souls were in the same room experiencing similar thing, more or less.

Yet, that is only the beginning of something truly wondrous.

The utter magic kicks in when the crowd starts singing in one perfect unison. When no matter how different you and the tattooed guy next to you are, each of you gathers there to sing along to the same melodies, forgetting each of your own problems, united by this feeling of bliss, together. When even the vocalist, singer, (or whoever really) on the stage gets too captivated by all of you that he could not help himself but to point his cool, extravagant microphone to you, the chanting people, who are pretty much there singing all your heart out.

Oh, and the front-rowers, they get all the beauty of it. UP CLOSE.

Imagine you stand there, with the lamps and FXes and all the sort of lights in the world and the sweet, sweet music blasts from directly in front of you where the men with the mics, bass, drums, and piano giving their super best. Then you hear your own voice with the gloriously thunderous backing vocal of approximately a thousand of people behind your back.

Oh-so-spectacular. Because concerts are not only about watching a performance, it’s about enjoying the performance with a bunch of other souls present.

You’ll just know that you’re not in your tiny little room anymore.

And oui. It’s all worth the pennies, the rush, the waiting, and instead now I have this line:

Watched a Keane concert in the front row.

Cheers, M.




The tiny dot that is our home.


Earth photographed from the Voyager craft at a point beyond the orbit of Neptune.

It seemed to me that another picture of the Earth, this one taken from a hundred thousand times farther away, might help in the continuing process of revealing to ourselves our true circumstance and condition. It had been well understood by the scientists and philosophers of classical antiquity that the Earth was a mere point in a vast encompassing Cosmos, but no one had ever seen it as such. Here was our first chance (and perhaps also our last for decades to come).


From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity – in all this vastness – there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Carl SaganPale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space

I’m reading the book right now!