About a year ago, I watched HBO’s miniseries adaptation of Emily St. John Mandel’s “Station Eleven,” and it has left an indelible impression on me ever since. The show, a slow-burning, visual masterpiece, weaves a captivating tale of survival and connection in a post-apocalyptic world, striking a deeply personal chord within me that I just can’t shake. Set 20 years after a fictional pandemic wipes out most of the world’s population, “Station Eleven” explores a world where few people have survived, leaving behind a society without government, communication, or reliable travel. It’s a world of small groups of survivors and roaming bands of bandits, where art and culture have all but vanished.

It’s not your normal show by any means, and the first few episodes may require some patience. As the story unfolds, it explores the transformative power of art and the resilience of the human spirit, which reminded me of the few times in my life when I’ve experienced theater or a truly intimate solo musical performance.

One of the things that stood out to me were the incredible performances by Himesh Patel and Mackenzie Davis. They brought a genuine sense of empathy to their roles, making it easy to connect with their characters as they navigated the harsh, post-apocalyptic world.

“Station Eleven” is a visually stunning work of art. The cinematography captures both the bleakness of the devastated world and the moments of hope and human connection that shine through the darkness. It’s this balance that makes the show so engaging and memorable.

However, what I liked most about “Station Eleven” was the Traveling Symphony. The Traveling Symphony is a traveling theater troupe that performs Shakespeare plays and classical music on a circular route through the Great Lakes region called The Wheel. The troupe is led by the Conductor, a former actress who believes that art is essential for human survival. The Traveling Symphony travels from community to community, performing in makeshift theaters and barns. The troupe’s performances provide a much-needed source of entertainment and hope for the people they encounter. In the show, it’s suggested they visit the same towns and settlements regularly (seasonally or once a year, it’s never said exactly), fostering ongoing relationships with the communities they perform for and providing a sense of continuity and familiarity in a world filled with uncertainty. I particularly relished in the villagers’ profound reverence for the Traveling Symphony, as if they were the only light in the world. While the concept of a traveling troupe preserving art and culture in a post-apocalyptic world may sound simple or even cliché, the miniseries succeeds in presenting it with such heartfelt sincerity, making it impossible not to be captivated by the artists’ enduring dedication to keeping the beauty of art alive in the darkest of times.

This miniseries really made me think about the importance of preserving our shared culture and art, even in the darkest of times. It is a profound exploration of the human spirit and our ability to connect with one another through art, music, and shared experiences.

2011

Not many people know this about me but I’m quite the data hoarder.  My full disk backups stretch all the way back to 2008 which is probably more than 99.999% of other people my age.  Some people have scrapbooks, others have their memories preserved in social media posts dating back to the dawn of the modern internet.  I’ve always been fond of offline, digital backups, personally. 

Maybe if I had a better memory it would be a less significant experience.  But every 3-4 years when I review and reorganize my backups there’s always something that catches me off guard.  This Saturday, March 11, 2023, on the eve of Daylight Saving Time and a week before Spring officially kicks off, it was 2011.  Specifically, an album that came out that year by a band called Explosions in The Sky.  Take Care, Take Care, Take Care.  Just the name alone causes me to slightly seize up with emotion.  The 46 minutes and 5 seconds of instrumental magic, spread across 6 tracks, transport me back to my youth, to a year that shaped the course of the next decade of my life.

That year, I was grappling with the loss of my closest friend and mentor. My faith in romantic relationships had been shaken after years of unrequited pursuits. On top of that, I was facing other personal challenges that I won't delve into here.  2011 was the year I dropped out of college.  I was brimming over with creativity and on many occasions, optimism.  But ultimately the stress prevented me from staying organized and disciplined enough to stay in school.  No one will ever know how truly isolated I was during that time.  I’ve honestly never recovered from the stress, isolation, and failure of that year. 

While rummaging through folders upon folders of old data today, I unearthed a copy of Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. It was like opening a time capsule, reminding me of the all the change I went through in 2011, of the losses I mourned and those that slipped through my fingers before I even noticed they were gone.

It was mid-April and I had gotten my hands on Explosions in The Sky’s new album a week early as part of my participation in the Warez scene.  I grabbed my laptop, connected it to my car’s stereo and drove out to a secluded recreational area for a private listening party of one.  It was windy.  I remember opening my driver’s door at one point, standing beside my car and opening my arms as the Great Plains wind blew around me and the songs played.  Let Me Back In, the last song was titled.  As I felt control of my future slipping away I remember that sound.