We will sing with the voices

I write a lot about books, but I’ve decided to turn my attention to life and music videos—songs that have intertwined with my sense of self in surprising ways.

Age brings interesting changes to how we perceive the world. I’m sure I’m still far from the wisdom of the elders, but even at 42, I can see how different I am from my twenty-year-old self.

We start to enjoy books we once thought were boring, while the ones we once loved now seem odd (how could I have liked that?). The same goes for songs, even from artists I never listened to before—they suddenly feel relevant.

But deep down, you still feel like the same young guy, thinking not much has changed. Then you catch your reflection in the mirror or look at your kids and realize that others no longer see you the way you feel. And you don’t even have to look far. At work, you see all these truly young people, full of energy and just beginning their careers.

And suddenly, you realize that you started earning your first money in your profession 27 years ago. Now, your colleagues look at you as someone seasoned by experience. And you’re standing there, thinking—”But I’m just like them! Why are they treating me like a grandpa? I mean, 42 years old—is that even old?” Then, out of nowhere, you stumble upon a song by Pavel Volya (not even knowing he sang in the first place), and it’s like he’s expressing all the thoughts you’ve been having:

But the most important change in me is my attitude toward family. As a teenager, I often thought about the future—about getting married, having kids—but those thoughts were vague and unclear. However, when the kids actually arrived, and now my eldest daughter is no longer officially a “child”… it’s a whole different perspective on family.

My parents live within me; I notice more and more that I’m repeating them in many small ways. And I’m proud of that. But wives also shape their husbands. We inherit our genes from our parents, but from our wives, we gain emotions, support, and the strength to grow and improve ourselves. And then our children will repeat us. In a way, we never truly leave; we remain in them. As Basta sings in Sansara: “I will sing with the voices of my children”:

And you clearly realize that, in truth, you live primarily for your children. All your achievements are for them. You either give them what you were deprived of in your own childhood (sometimes going overboard), or you try to help them avoid the mistakes you made. So that they can become better than you: