I met a guy who lived in a village on the outskirts of a relatively cheap city in Asia. He was local sound engineer and I had been invited to perform at the only stage in the village, a bar at the top of a small mountain with a beautiful view. He couldn't speak much English and had never been abroad. We hit it off immediately even though we could barely communicate at first.
This story is not about the bar but it was such a chill place, a hostel with a huge courtyard and a roof overlooking the ocean. The owner let friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends hang out and drink tea there any time we wanted, 24/7 even when the bar was closed, and so later we'd come talk to the guests or jam on the roof once or twice a week.
These vibes:
After the show this guy asked in broken English if I wanted to come to his house and jam sometime. I said sure, and so a week later I showed up with a friend who happened to know him. He lived in an old stone house, it could have been 200 years old for all I knew. It had 6 bedrooms and a courtyard but I later learned that it was the same price as a proper one room apartment. Most people our age preferred something newer and cleaner but he lived there so he could jam whenever he wanted, climb the mountain behind the house or walk to the ocean in 5 minutes. Friends were constantly coming and going as if it were a shop.
He was sleeping when we arrived (at 6 PM) and so we waited for a while outside. Turns out everything this guy did was at his own pace. He didn't like to be pressured and he didn't put any pressure on others either. I ended up loving that about him. At times it would get on my nerves, but it took a person like this to teach me how to jam.
Before we played music he wanted to have some tea and then eat and since he was slow at everything, we started jamming at 9:30 PM.
As soon as he hit the djembe, I realized why he wanted to jam with me. We were very similar people and I could hear it in his groove. He did not like to do things with a plan, nor did he like showing off. He wanted to be moved and to move others with music, although unlike me, he'd never put such things into words.
At first I let him follow my songs and I discovered just how they would sound with percussion, something I had a hard time imagining before. Later I moved in with him in his big dilapidated house and his friends always came to visit and jam, almost every day. As we got more comfortable with each other, I picked up a habit of his.
I realized he wasn't a drummer, nor a guitar player. He couldn't read music but he could play any instrument you handed him. He'd try to find something that sounded good without putting too much thought into if it was impressive or not. It was ALWAYS good. It always got me moving and closing my eyes lost in the music.
I started to emulate his flexibility and slowly came to see myself as less of a musician or guitarist (two title that I never felt I deserved) and more of an artist. There was never any pressure or any judgement if you played something badly. He'd grimace when things were out of tune or when you had no idea how bad you sounded, but he'd laugh and invite you to find something that sounded better. He'd make that same grimace at himself.
We spent almost a year together and barely spoke. Even after I learned his language, we had very little to talk about, but we never once had any real problems or serious misunderstandings. His best friend was a dog, and they never spoke but he loved that dog more than anything. Our relationship, while not as deep as his dog who was practically his partner, was similar. No words were needed but we had a deep understanding.
I remember once when I said to him, "You don't like talking much?", he replied "Why do we need words? I hear your music and I know you. I hear the sound of your voice and I know you. I look at your eyes and I know you."
I learned rhythm and scales and experimentation and confidence to be playful while creating from him. More than that though, I learned how to get out of my head. This was hard for me, someone whose mind is constantly churning, but it's still with me. I don't always listen to what people say to understand them. I look at their face and how they treat each other. I don't care what their customs are, more what they bring to others, how they see themselves and how they enjoy life.
It’s true. We don't always need words to understand each other. Sometimes the deepest understanding requires nothing but a shared presence.
🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎🌎
My music:
My lazy vlogs:
my mini-novella series:
Confessions of the Damaged - Out Now!
🎬Self Help For Trolls
🎸I + Everything
📕 Confessions of the Damaged OUT NOW :-)
Come join us in Hive Cross Culture where we talk and share ideas about Culture, language and travel and share any bilingual content. Join our discord
We also have a @crossculture account curating bilingual posts and running contests to support local communities. If you like what we do, please consider delegating to @crossculture or follow our trail 🙂
🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱
I need all the words because I tell too many stupid stories 🤣
That guy sounds pretty cool and likely I would move into that house for pretty much the same reasons and also it sounds lovely.
You have the best words ;-)
I lived there for 2 or 3 years. It's all kind of a blur lol, but it was incredible and definitely stays with me today.
Sounds like the times were that good XD
Music is the only Language I truly understand ☺️😉
😉
Sometimes the deepest understanding requires nothing but a shared presence.
No truer words said than that.
My friend was told she had cancer 8 years ago. I had no words for her. I just hugged her and held her close while she cried.
She told me later than even if I had said one word she would have lost that peace she got that day.
She left us in March this year. I still feel her so close to me.
You sure drove home that point. What you did for her was incredible and your relationship sounds incredible too. I am glad that someone with that kind of pain had someone like you to support them. ♥️
Thank you.. At the end of the day you still feel helpless.
Nonetheless for someone struck with such a great tragedy there is no need for words, just the universal language of love would be enough.
First of all, the view in the second picture is precious.
And, indeed, we don't always need word hence the phrase actions speak louder
It was paradise. I wanted to stay there forever but the whole area became too popular and expensive and all my friends left. That bar closed down and became something really boring and unimpressive. Things will always change, but I hope to find somewhere that changes in reflection with the people who love the place.
You will find that place.
Interesting..its a small world
This post has been manually curated by @bhattg from Indiaunited community. Join us on our Discord Server.
Do you know that you can earn a passive income by delegating to @indiaunited. We share 80 % of the curation rewards with the delegators.
Here are some handy links for delegations: 100HP, 250HP, 500HP, 1000HP.
Read our latest announcement post to get more information.
Please contribute to the community by upvoting this comment and posts made by @indiaunited.