The other day I was driving back home down the usual road. One of the passengers of the car in front of me seemed to have thrown a cd out of the window, so the cars behind were driving over the round piece of plastic on the road.
As I continued driving I saw a second CD being run over, then a third one…
Being an absolute lover of music as I am, it made me a bit upset to think that someone was throwing away CDs in such a disrespectful way. It made me think about what kind of music they contained and why that person decided to get rid of them.
Maybe they got tired of the music, maybe they were the remains of some hurtful experience.
Who knew… But of course, all this was going through my head as I drove on.
Another couple of minutes later I passed a huge truck that was transporting hundreds of gas bottles, each one with a paper collar around the cylinder valve. The CD- shaped paper collars were flying off the bottle necks as the truck sped along the highway.
Solving the mystery of the discarded CDs made me smile quite a lot.
It was interesting to think that if I had exited the road before passing the truck I would have never found out that the CDs I thought someone was throwing out a car window were in fact paper collars flying off gas bottles.
I would have missed my discovery if the truck had taken another turn, if I had driven faster, if the truck had been slower, if none of the collars had flown off while I passed the truck…
Then I started wondering whether there is a time when we’ll know all the answers, when we’ll resolve all the mysteries, whether we’ll know the story behind our story, behind our life, whether we’ll get to a coherent ending, a moral, a reason…
I wondered whether when we die, we’ll get to visit the backstage of our life, understand why things happen, what other people were thinking when they did the things they did, what they saw from their side, and every other thing that happens around our lives while we live them.
I wondered whether there’ll be a way to know what was the whole script, what happened to the other characters of our story when we don’t consider ourselves to be the main characters.
I’d love to know at some point the other stories people live and that are conditioning our own ones.
I wonder whether when we’ll die we’ll know what it all meant.
(This post best read while listening to:
That’s All by Genesis)