Whilst slowly drifting around Sheffield yesterday, having arrived very early for a presentation at the music department there, I fell into a strangely calm and self-aware state. It was one of those gorgeous warm and sunny autumn days that can surprise you in England and I wandered through he city, a city I did not know, allowing each corner to gently unfold itself, bathed in the soft golden light of the autumnal sun.
My ipod, which seemed to sense my mood was on shuffle but played serene track after serene track. I hate the notion of a sound track, but I felt as I was in some kind of narrative. What was particularly strange was the sense that everyone, everything, all of it, was there by design. There is no God, there is no great being or design behind it all, there is no purpose, but there is a kind of intelligence in all this: it is diffuse, distributed, sedimented and not self-aware, but it sometimes seems to make its presence felt as if the world could think, as if, in this moment, the movement of a great unconscious into the conscious were stirring.
Beautiful, just beautiful.