I work at a coffee shop. We usually play jazz and folk music throughout the day. One day, after I told everyone that we were closing up and that they had to go, I put on this song. Everone shuffled out the door and there was only one woman left. She was cleaning up a stack of papers that she was reading and she told me she would be on her way out. I told her to take her time. As I was counting the till she came up to the counter and asked if she could stay until this song was over. I told her that would be fine. Ten minutes later she came up to the counter, with small tears on her cheeks and said, "Thank you, I needed that." I've always felt a profound attachment to this song. A kind of solace, a place to go to think; just about anything. I still wonder what was going on inside of her listening to this. It seemed important. More important than what goes on inside of me while listening to this, although both are puzzling. I still keep coming back to this song trying to figure out what it's all about.
Picture a wave in the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave.
And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death for Buddhists: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.
This song talks to us. It says: ‘ stop. Stop with what you are doing, stop thinking, stand still for a while, and just be. We are not created for endless worry and struggle. Remember who you are. We are born from the stars, not from downtrodden earth. We are the light that shines through us. Don’t you remember? Remember, dear human! ‘ Thank you for reminding us, Arvo.
I listened to this song for the first time at 0:15 am on Jan 1st 2020. I was driving back home at the middle of the night. Music was random on Spotify, and this beauty came up. The city was so peaceful. I drove through a residential area. I saw beautiful Christmas decorations, and cars clustered outside some homes. It was like time has stopped. It felt like that. So slow, so peaceful. I began to think about how each home, each family, has its own story, its own relationships, traditions, its own pain, and its own love. Then the idea of all of that it's going to end at some time came, and I thought life was so pointless, so trivial, yet enormously beautiful. I recommend this sensation to everyone.
We're having a great time on the couch right now. Chilling and reading comments of people who share their experiences. Keep em going. From Nedjoua & Frank: two people who met each other against all odds, we both live thousands of miles away from each other and happened to land in the same bar at exactly the right time in a completely foreign country to both of us. We have exactly thirteen days left together and will probably never see each other again. It's all bittersweet, but i would say the sweet part wins. We've made beautiful memories that will go on and that's more than what most people get. 14/06/2019
If you are listening to this, i believe you are a good person. God bless you, and i hope this music will help you as it`s helping me. thanks for the upload...
He wrote this just prior to emigrating from Estonia when he was 45 to get away from the Soviets. The house he grew up in had a piano with a damaged middle register so he would play only in the high and low registers, never being able to play simple chords like the ones throughout this piece. It's like he's saying goodbye but it takes him so long to do it. A great man
I took care of my Mom for almost 8 years. Hardest thing I ever did. The last few months I discovered this piece. I would turn my Mom on her side and give her her back rub and then do all the range of motion listening to this over and over, telling her what an awesome Mom she was. I knew by this point she never liked herself, but I was gonna let her know over and over how awesome she was. Thank you for making our bag lunches every single day. And anything else I could think of. When she passed the room glowed. Thank you Mom.