This past week I’ve sat through both a movie and a concert that were not my usual fare. First, I saw an animated film called The Great History of Western Philosophy. It began with the line: Do not attempt to reason with this movie. It makes no sense. I kept thinking about that as I watched the chaos unfold. Spoiler alert: This was not about history or philosophy. I’m still attempting to figure out if it was about anything at all.

The official description is: A cosmic animator is hired by the Central Committee of the People’s Republic to realize a philosophical film under the gaze of Chairman Mao who is displeased and sentences them to death right at the start. Be relieved that the sentence didn’t stick being refuted by Monkey and Pigsy from Journey to the West.

Immediately after the movie ended my husband, my friend, and I agreed that it was completely meaningless. However we just couldn’t let it go so we discussed the imagery we were bombarded with while waiting for our lunch to arrive. Now I think there might have been a message. My interpretation is that anyone that claims to be in authority over us is ridiculous and we should disregard them. I’m probably wrong, but that was my takeaway.

If I’d known what the movie would be like, I would not have gone. But processing the movie into some meaning was good for my brain. I think. Maybe.

Then yesterday I attended a free mystery concert that turned out to be First Nation throat singing. Sometimes it sounded like vocal warmups. Sometimes it sounded like someone having an asthma attack. At all times the rhythms were good. There were a lot of First Nation people in the audience and it was clear that they were loving it and bonding over shared culture. Would have I gone if I’d known what I was going to hear? Nope. I’m a lyrics first kind of gal and not a word of it was in any of the languages I know. But it was good for me to experience it. Hurray for me stepping out of my comfort zone.