Today something amazing happened to me.
It was one of those things that, afterwards, made me feel like I was really connected to the world. You know that feeling of disconnected connectedness, as if suddenly your soul has left your body and has become apart of everything. Like the feeling after an epiphany.
I was driving along, just leaving the scene of a story I had been working on. Chom Rock was the radio station I was listening to over the slow rumble of my car's dying engine. Advertisements gurgled and twittered, barely irritating my ear drum as my thoughts pushed back the sound waves and made them apart of the ambiance. They sounded like voices in a dream, inaudible but unarguably there.
Soon the songs came on and "Come Together" by the Beatles began to play. Here come ol' flat top began to burrow it's way into my mind and I enjoyed it. The vibrations were less harsh than the preceding commercials and soon I was mouthing the words.
I came to a turn and stopped, as best I could with the ice, at the appropriate point to obey the traffic laws. Slightly after I had slid into place another car came to a halt on the road perpendicular to my own. The other car was a dirty brown and didn't look much better than mine. It's driver was a bit shaggy, with a beard and longish unattended hair.
On the radio the chorus was coming up. I was still humming the words and thought nothing of the stranger at the stop sign. But as I turned, for some reason I took another glance at the other driver and what I saw made me feel like part of everything. As he turned he mouthed the words, "Right now, over me" as they played on my radio.
He was listening to the same station as me, and he could here the same sound that I could. It's not amazing, but I'd not expected the influence of the radio station to be so obvious at that moment.
In my car I always felt like I was in my own little world, but once I'd completed my turn I was part of something bigger. I was a single cog in the world machine, one ant in the swarm. Everything I did suddenly seemed both of dire importance and of no consequence. Like all my actions were microscopic, but worked towards a much greater goal.
The rest of my drive seemed like a dream and once I got back to work, I began writing.