February 22 Meditation (Emiel Kampen)

February 22 Meditation (Emiel Kampen)

February 22 Meditation (Emiel Kampen)

Like Emiel Kampen, I have recently been thinking about ageing.

February is my birth month. My birthday is the 10th but I like to celebrate for the entire month, which turns out to be just as well because my family hasn’t yet sent me their cards, due to illness. And now I’m ill, and have spent the whole day in bed, a test to my resolve to play and write about each day’s Meditation.

But I’m glad I made the effort (although helped by the knowledge that it would be as brief and accessible as the rest) to play this one. It’s quite lovely, and quite different from the others so far.

Today’s Meditation is a night sky dotted with bright stars, and you are a shooting star that moves across it, curving towards your mouse cursor. When your star comes close to another you hear a voice, sometimes in English, sometimes in another language. They fade in an out as you move closer and further away, and sometimes even overlap.

These audio clips sound like archival recordings, some much older than others, which reminds me of a game I played once (which I wish I could find) that takes place on an underground train where each passenger has a story to tell. In that case, I’m pretty sure the stories were from a BBC archive.

I suppose it’s unsurprising that I, a person who works in radio and podcasts, would like a game about listening to people’s voices, but I’m happy to be predictable in this context.

Every now and then, one of the stars will darken and fall from the sky in what looks like the shape of a skull, as if it wasn’t already a clear enough symbol for death. Or a bright light will shoot up from the curve of the planet below and become a new star and a new voice.

February 22 Meditation Emiel Kampen.png