The Beauty of Noise
A little over a decade ago, I convinced myself that I wanted to be a surgeon. Like most young people, I tried to adopt characteristics that pop culture deemed to be definitive of the person they want to be; one of which, for the esteemed surgeon, being an interest in calming jazz or classical music. So, when I would sit down and study for an upcoming exam, I'd make damn sure something sophisticated was playing or I didn't feel like I was truly studying. Or, at the very least, reprising the role of my aspirations.
Serendipitously, after a playlist on Spotify ran its course, it would play similar music on shuffle. Through this I would discover what is to this day one of my favorite songs. On The Corner of King And Scotts Streets by the Roland Kirk Quartet. This song was unlike anything I've been training myself to appreciate. It was raw, chaotic, and surprisingly intuitive. With this particular recording of a live performance, hearing the crowds reaction, the harsh breathing, it made me feel so alive. And at the three minute mark, overwhelmed with joy. (Give it a listen and you'll see what I mean!)
From that point on, I've chased these feelings in many aspects of my life. This contradiction of harmony in noise; intuition in chaos. And how satisfying it is to trace along a path with seemingly no destination, yet equally fulfilling.
Observation is the vehicle of innovation. As it is the goal of society to continuously progress, all means of innovation are responses to problems which were initially observed. Likewise, the problem of a limited capacity to observe manifests in a continuous effort to innovate the means to observe so as to keep innovating. If we could spend as much time at that threshold, where chaos becomes only seemingly so. It's that precise moment in space and time, that you can look around and see the noise become intuitive and harmonious.