I woke up with a sore throat and a mild flu today. It was about time I fell sick, considering I roamed in cold sand dunes last weekend, and I kept running in chilly fall mornings of Dallas this week. But I ignored it as usual and was prepping to go for my run. Then it hit me out of nowhere. By “it”, I mean Train’s ‘Drops of Jupiter’ song. I haven’t listened to it in a long time, so I have no clue why my brain suddenly craved to listen to it. But I obeyed my master and played the song (flies right in the face of all the stoic philosophy I have been reading lately, which keeps hammering the idea of having dominion over the mind with various analogies).
I think drops of Jupiter is easily one of the most wonderfully
existential lyrical prose written on this planet by humans. How can one counterargue this statement after reading the below lyrics?
Tell me, did you sail across the sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that Heaven is overrated?
It feels like the lyricist behind this song is taking pot shots at milky way and heaven. But maybe they are just trying to convey how things, which look amazing from far, can lose that quality once they are experienced from a closer distance. This happens not because those things are faulty, but rather because our minds have this flaw of always judging what’s amazing and what’s not.
So, if everything’s overrated eventually, does it mean we stop
experiencing things and just stay in a state of depression? Answer is no, at
least according to the below lyrics:
But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way?
We can still let winds sweep us off our feet safely. Maybe we
just need to be a little aware of how our minds amplify the feelings of good
and bad we attach to external things. Apart from that, we don’t have to worry a
lot, we still deserve to dance along the light of day. Especially because we sometimes
don’t understand the insanely low odds of our existence as conscious beings on
this planet. To understand this, think about all the atoms making our bodies
up.
Some of these atoms have been around since the beginning of
time, while many others were forged inside stars. So, these atoms could have
very well belonged to a star millions of years ago, which disintegrated eventually
to let these atoms flow out into universe. From there, these atoms had one hell
of a journey – they could have belonged to some other celestial bodies which
died, then maybe to some dinosaurs, and then to our legendary ancestors like Shakespeare
(it is estimated that at least a billion of atoms in each of us were from
Shakespeare), and when these ancestors died, these atoms went into ground and
dissipated into atmosphere, and I don’t know how, but they somehow reached us.
So, we are all but a temporary home to these atoms, and someday they will leave
us for their next adventure. This is exactly why we should remember to celebrate
the temporariness of all this existence by dancing along to the light of the
day.
I’d be lying if I say I think about all this weird
existential philosophy while listening to drops of Jupiter. What I think most
about is how this song was inspired by death of the band’s lead singer’s mom. He
imagined a beautiful concept of an afterlife where his mom is floating through
the constellations, galaxies, wherever she can in this vast universe. He is imagining
that there are drops of Jupiter stuck in her hair and he’s also asking her below
question in the closing lyrics of this song:
And are you lonely looking for yourself out there?
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