Last month, as I was bicycling to the Upper East Side - I noticed an unusually bright moon - as orange as fruit. It was a wild sight. A rare instance of nature showing off it’s mischievous spirit.
I wanted to take a photograph - but sadly, there was no space left on my camera.
So I turned to the Chinese delivery man standing a few feet away, and stared at him from a distance as he pulled out his phone for a quick snapshot. I closed my eyes for a moment, and envisioned a day of him in the future - imagining him, scrolling through old photographs on his computer, when he suddenly comes across the one of the blood orange moon, blaring at him over the East River.
When he stops to look at it - what will it mean for him? Will he even recall taking the photo? Something tells me he’ll just scroll past it. A moment in time that felt important enough to document - that now, has no significance.
Sure you can capture the moon on your phone, but can you capture the magic in the air?
The spark, that outlives the instance of it’s origin. A snapshot - more beautiful than the actual moment itself. Like with music, sometimes, it’s the worst demos that are the best renditions. They capture the authenticity, while simultaneously, elevating the moment to a new level.
I do my best to do the same with mürmur. These conversations are sacred to me. I feel myself swaying into the hands of inspiration - even before walking over to press record. I make a silent pledge to be true. And at some point in the conversation, I go off to another dimension.
Maybe you’ll hear it. Maybe you won’t. But I do hope that you will feel it. That spark of magic. The divinity. We all have phones, we can record anything we want. But it’s a whole another task, to capture the spark. The spark that keep us returning - over and over again. After 4 years, I’ve finally found my method of eliciting that spark. I hope you will find yours too.
Now I’m curious what it looks like. That photograph of the blood orange moon -taken by that man.
(Originally Published 8/24/18)