Techno Tales: Babel

I connect with music in a variety of ways. My favorite is collectively sending it on a dance floor with other humans. The vibrations pumping out of the speaker seem to turn us into flowing energy rather than ego-filled overthinkers. Some of my happiest moments took place while dancing to “techno.”

My connection with music isn’t always dancing and good vibes though.

My deepest moments with music left me sobbing in tears. This happens from time to time when a song touches me the right way, in the right moment. Music has a way of melting my resistance and shining a light into the dark hallways of my subconscious. This brings me to my relationship with "Babel" by Bernstein. [Spotify | SoundCloud]

I first heard Babel as part of a Louis Dinkgrefe set while traveling in Mestia, Georgia. There's endless variables that play a role in how you'll receive music, or anything for that matter. At the time, I was feeling directionless and depressed. I just left the Echowaves festival, which I strongly disliked, and felt called to get lost in overwhelming nature. The massive mountains of Mestia were the right medicine to get me out of my head, and into now.

After a day of solo hiking, I laid down in my bed & breakfast to relax and listen to music. I’ve never heard of Louis Dinkgrefe, but this set pulled me in from the first beat. I’m about 45 minutes in and Babel starts to come on.

Shit.

I felt nervous as the track began to build. Emotions started intensely rising to the surface. I consciously did my best to let go and surrender to the sound.

Honestly, it was scary. It would’ve been easier to day dream about what I’ll do tomorrow or where I’ll travel to next. I didn’t escape. I let the sound take me where I needed to go. Next thing I know, I’m on a vivid journey to the darkest period of my life - my Mother’s final days.

Mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2002. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was only given a few months to live. She went on and battled the cancer for 7 years. Near the end of her life, she knew death was coming and she accepted it.

The intense, dark, beautiful melody of Babel put me back in 2009.
It put me in the consciousness of 22 year old Lee.
It put me in my Mom’s room.
I’m feeling the emotions I felt when she sat me down to tell me she only had a few more weeks left to live.

She was ready to go. I wasn't ready to let go. Absolute rock bottom.

I remember thinking that life couldn’t possibly get any lower than this. She was no longer taking medication and within days, her body started to shrink in size. This was painful to witness. I thought I felt the lowest low, but the feelings continued to intensify.

Family and friends came to visit and say goodbye. Our home became host to her living funeral. Sometimes, the guests were in worse shape than us. At a time when we needed strength and support, we often found ourselves providing the shoulder to lean on. What a beautiful mess.

About a week later, I came home from work to find hospice nurses in our living room. Rock bottom redefined.

The end was getting close and hospice coached us on how Mom was going to die. In order for her to pass gracefully, we (my dad and 2 brothers) had to individually let her know we were okay with her death.

I had to let go. This was the hardest experience of my life.

It took me 2 days to gather the mental strength. I wanted to say goodbye from a place of love, not fear.

I collected myself and entered Mom’s bedroom. By this time, her body had dramatically deteriorated - she was about half her normal size.

I cuddled her for an hour. I talked to her about casual bullshit, I wanted to keep the vibe light. She didn’t have the strength to speak, but I was certain she was listening. In my own way, I energetically communicated that I was ready for her to go. Now it was time to truly let go…

I hugged her fragile body a bit tighter and leaned in to give her a farewell kiss. I whispered in her ear “I love you Mom.”

At a time when she didn't have enough energy to open her eyes, she mustered up just enough strength to tell me one last time: "I love you Lee." 

This is it. The deepest feeling I’ve ever felt. Both the saddest and most loving moment of my life. Mom passed away two days later and I was OK. That final exchange gave me peace. Peace that has carried on to this very moment. As difficult as it was, I’m endlessly grateful I got to say goodbye.

Babel took me to this special moment. I listened intently as tears poured down my face. What a feeling. What a release.

I don't want to forget the feeling of that moment. It's a memory I can’t always access on my own. It scares me. I feel resistance. Music gave me the strength, courage and curiosity to experience those feelings again. The deepest love I've ever known. 

It served as a reminder of how precious life is. A reminder that many others are experiencing that same confusing feeling of extreme sadness and love at the same time. To be empathetic with my fellow humans, for I could never know what you’re going through.

I want to express my gratitude to Bernstein and Amselcom for creating a piece of art that allowed me to feel this again. On the same note, I extend my love to anyone who is going through the darkness right now. I feel you and I love you. 

To all the producers out there, keep doing what you’re doing. You’re changing the world in ways you could never imagine.

Thank you.