There are these holy moments.
Of course, there are the ones where you're sitting in a gospel church somewhere. Or a temple or a mosque. You know. Some form of your spiritual scene. You can sit on some bench or in a momentary circling and listen to tambourine bells or recite the holiest of scripture or speak in tongues and repeat the wrongs and the rights of our time.
There are those kinds of holy moments. And then there are these other ones.
The ones that aren't part of the script. They strike you like a snake bite or a lightening bolt or any other cliche way we try to describe these kinds of instances. Here's the thing. These moments have no place in our world. They exist beyond the ether and the beautiful beams. They slow and focus in. Every single light dims down to a focused flame. Snap. The world closes on one fraction of a second in the history of all time recorded and understood.
You will remember this, something tells you. Remember this evermore.
Among the cheap beers and the glazed-over eyes and the echo of inaudible voices of a thousand. One last night with the house music and moments of anticipation and slurred sentences of people telling each other what they hope to hear covered that night. They were the Gin Doctors -- a band composed of a few men tied to an uncertain generation.
I often wondered why these people were all there. Why not some other bar, in some other town. But they were there, you see. They came to gasp for our youth and scream toward an even more uncertain future. I had been following the band on a film assignment for a few months when that night came. Most evenings filming I would tuck into some back corner of the stage or slip in and out, the men playing with the crowd or joking with one another in between sets. It's hard not to dance. Hard not to hoot and holler and smash your camera and put a fist in the air. To be in between experiences as a photographer. Hard to stay clear, stay focused. You get caught up in the in-between moments that reaffirm your small place in the greater world of things. The ones that allow you to experience someone in their unique world. In their light. In their depth.
There are still hours of film footage I still need to make sense of in the greater context. The why's and the what now's. We don't really know and won't for a long time.
What I do know is what it means to experience Tyler in his time. Ultimate time. True and clear. The seldom moments you're able to feel time scream to a halt. And that person is there in their beam or their light or their holy moment. Yes, holy time. The stuff that isn't really a part our normal day. Time that becomes tangible. It stands for nothing and everything. It holds space for you and only you.
Remember this now. If only with Tyler. If only for a moment.