the unresolved chord...

a meditation

we like a happy ending.
it feels good
when all of the character arcs are tied off
with a nice little bow,
when all is settled,
when all of the tension the story could hold
is released.
we lean back,
take a deep breath,
and sigh…
it’s a deeply physical response,
even while watching a film—
hearts thumping through the climax
and the sweet release of
knowing it all turns out
alright in the end.
only—those aren’t the sort of stories
that stick, are they?
what was the last story you read, or
film you watched
that stuck with you for a few days?
maybe even that you thought about years later?
maybe returned to
cause you had to re-read it
and ponder again
why does this story beguile me?
stay with me?
haunt me?

I have been pondering lately on the unresolving chord…

music is a reflection of reality—the way things are. maybe it would be better said to be a parallel universe, or the myth behind the mundane… but when we lock into a groove we hear, we nod into the agreement that life has a tempo—sometimes fast, sometimes slow… sometimes things are quiet, sometimes they thrash… sometimes voices cry out in unison (sometimes without words), sometimes there is silence as the music flows past you… sometimes the band brings you home with the perfect resolution, and other times they don’t give you the resolving chord—they hold the tension and the moment passes, but somehow lingers after the silence of that final strum…

I have a theory that happy-ending shows/movies makes us emotionally lethargic. we watch someone we like get into some trouble and solve their problem in the course of 22 minutes. over and over. and something in us feels sated (might take a few episodes). tension and release. tension and release. ad nauseum…

but life isn’t quite like the telly. in the longer stories of our lives, we live in a perpetual tension. ours is the suspense, and the waiting, and the longing—forever and ever, amen. (heh)

Merced River, Yosemite Valley - A. Bierstadt, 1866

in the Gospels, I find myself wishing with the disciples that Jesus would just make the most of the moment—with all of his goodness and wisdom and power, why doesn’t he seize the throne? ascending to a state of honor above all the other power-hungry, self-serving political and religious leaders... but in lieu of glory, we are given a crucified, dead and buried Jesus. and then after everything, what was finished in Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, remains undone…

in the Ramayana, I was eager for Rama and Sita to go home to Ayodhya and live happily ever after… but sadly, Sita is vindicated by being swallowed up by the earth!

The Lord of the Rings doesn’t see Frodo return home in glory and made king, but rather sees him, a deeply and incurably wounded individual, leaving Middle Earth and his best friend, Sam, forever.

this is the beautiful sadness that plagues the human race!

this is the reminder of a future homecoming!

these are the resonant strings that sound within us, telling us another chord is sounding elsewhere!

he has set eternity in our hearts—caveat sentitor!

the unresolved nature of reality is familiar to us. it is our water, and we are the fish. I think the reason those stories and songs stick to us, sometimes in ways that are uncomfortable, is because they remind us of the gap between the way things really are in the world and the way they might be…

=====================

this is a meditation on the unresolved nature of art, and of reality… I’m interested in exploring this more, both in the fields of poetry and music, and in an observational way through the patterns of narratives that stick and haunt… I can’t help but feel it is a theme running through much of the world’s lasting literary works… but why?

Q: what, for you, reminds you of “the resonant strings that sound within us, telling us another chord is sounding elsewhere”?

peace,

Z