As I wrote Tuesday’s “Mountains of Memories” post Do Hard Things, the photo of my friend Peter atop Bienn a’ Chruliaste made me think not just of the beauty of wilderness solitude, but also the loneliness and isolation felt by me - perhaps by many - during our current challenging times. So, a Thursday Thought drawing from there, with the wondering lyrics and music of Passenger.

The silence was palpable: 9,000+ people packing Red Rocks Amphitheater watching, listening, quietly.

Are there any survivors?
Am I here alone?
Am I on my own?

Michael Rosenberg - better known by his stage name, Passenger - belted out the lyrics, fingers muting guitar strings, raspy voice clawing the air, begging an answer to the question we’ve all felt, all asked, in these dark, chaotic, curious times. No matter our place on the socio-political spectrum, the decrepitude, division, deviousness of our times can make us all feel quite alone, out in the wilderness, no survivors.

For me, music has always been a salve, an auditory catharsis allowing my questioning, agonizing, lamenting, at-times-angry, oft-times-cynical, most-times-self-abusive brain to pause, step away from the brink, to delve into and revel in the lyrics…and the knowledge by doing so that no, I am not alone, there are other survivors, others here and now, then and there, feeling and experiencing the same.

Pop music, while catchy and fun (at times, pukey and irritating at others), has never been my cup of tea. I’ve always preferred poets and storytellers who happen to hold a guitar or sit at a piano over trend setters peppering triteness upon a catchy ditty. (I mentioned my at-times-cynical side, right?) I remember sitting for hours listening to Cat Stevens’ Miles From Nowhere on my Walkman high in the Himalaya, alone, in 1993; Ani DiFranco’s To The Teeth and Hello Birmingham while contemplating a time of similar division and delusion in society; Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker while watching my mother pass from this world and pondering what it all means; the list goes on.

I remember first hearing Passenger back in 2012 when, out of the blue, his song All The Little Lights came through the digital airwaves. His lyrics - poetic, pensive, probing - grabbed me, and I knew I had stumbled upon a new favorite.

We're born with millions
Of little lights shining in the dark
And they show us the way
One lights up, every time you feel love in your heart
One dies when it moves away

I’ve following his music closely ever since, immersing in his sincerity and simplicity, weaving profundity from the everyday experience. And again, to experience him silencing the crowd at Red Rocks (opening for Gregory Alan Isakov and, incidentally, standing completely alone on stage) asking a question we’ve all felt was powerful, immersive.

In Holes, Passenger reminds us that we all experience hardship, loss, trials and tribulations part and parcel of the human experience:

Said we've got holes in our hearts
We've got holes in our lives
We've got holes, we've got holes
But we carry on

And, he continues a similar narrative in Scare Away The Dark, reminding us that when we come together we can triumph against the necrotic venom of division, fear, hatred:

Well sing, sing at the top of your voice
Love without fear in your heart
Feel, feel like you still have a choice
If we all light up we can scare away the dark

Standing on that stage, the enlivening hush of 9,000 people was answer to Passenger’s question - to mine, to yours: No, we are not alone, not if we don’t choose to be.

Let’s all go out and sing at the top of our voices and scare away the dark. (And, maybe listen to some good music, too.)