Earlier I praised the idea of combining a favorite piece of music with an outdoor or camping situation. The argument was platitudinous, perhaps.
Last night I made the idea concrete. Recall that my old pup and I took a nice walk near sunset, with the rocks reflecting the lowering sun. I felt quietly euphoric for several reasons.
I was back inside my camper before the sun literally set. The view probably got better and better outdoors but I preferred to look at a quadrilateral of coloring light on the ugly unpainted plywood wall inside the camper.
And I played some famous music by Schubert: it goes by different names, such as "Serenade" or "Schwanengesang" (Swan Song.) But it helps to use a number when looking things up: D. 957. I prefer the solo piano version, arranged by Liszt.
Even though I was familiar with the music and have almost overplayed it the last month, it seemed twice as enjoyable right then and there. Why is that? Should I even try to analyze it?
Maybe there is a mood to sunset that I underestimate because I do everything in the morning.
This is an example of how vapid, pompous, and verbal a "mighty idea" can be, and how lively it can seem when it becomes freshly incarnated in daily experience. Thus I will continue to have less and less interest in philosophy, and more and more interest in metaphors, novels, or cinema.