HeyJaredSet Meridian
Music is one of my hobbies. I love auditory exploration, crossing and mixing genres, and sharing experiences, stories and, feelings via music.
- Indexed episodes, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 5, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 8, 2026
Latest episodes
Here I go (opens the original)
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Another meter conquered. Still floating. Still flying. The air grows thin, then thick, shifting between predictable slipstreams and wild, uncharted gusts. It does not matter. The nose points ahead, cutting through the resistance, driven by the absolute certainty that the only way to stay aloft is to keep crossing the next horizon. Human life is written in this very design. We are born from creases and sharp folds, shaped by hands and circumstances we did not choose. There are days when the world
Bees (opens the original)
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The human world is a puzzle of lines drawn in the dirt. On one side of an invisible border, smoke rises under one set of rules; across the line, it drifts freely under another. We argue over fragments of air and patches of ground, forgetting that the sky has no ceiling. But in the tall grass, a different kingdom breathes. The bees leave their dark cells at dawn, flying over our fences without ever seeing them. They do not gather sweetness for themselves, nor do they argue over who owns the field
I can change (opens the original)
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I visited a tree one winter day. The wind was cold, the branches bare, the ground was white, and all was gray. It looked so still, so tired, so dead. I wondered if it had anything left. I almost turned away. But something told me come back another day. Seasons passed. I gave it time. I visited that tree again when the sun was warm and the world was bright. I barely recognized it. Leaves danced in the breeze, fruits hung with color, birds sang in its branches, life everywhere I looked. The tree h
Traveling (opens the original)
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The world moved past the window in a quiet, steady blur, a soft backdrop to the rhythm of breathing filling the car. From the passenger seat, I looked back. Three heads were tilted against the headrests, caught in the heavy, trusting sleep of a long afternoon drive. A hand lay limp on a knee, fingers slightly curled. In the quiet cabin, the passing landscape felt less like a playground and more like a cathedral. We reached the summit just as the sun began its long descent. Stepping out onto the
Traveling again (opens the original)
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The car door slammed shut with a satisfying clunk, and the engine hummed to life, vibrating under our feet like a pulse, well almost since it was the hum of an electric car. We were finally moving. The radio was cranked up, we took turns to fill the cabin with each others tastes in music. Outside, the morning sun was just hitting the asphalt, turning the highway into a glittering ribbon that stretched into the horizon. "Look, look! The mountains!" someone yelled from the back seat, pressing thei
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