One of the most powerful and influential things in my life is music. To me, music is therapy. When I’m down, music lifts me up. When I go on my four-hour drive from Connecticut to Vermont, what gets me through is music. It’s such a huge part of my life. This column will dive into my love for music from different perspectives. My first will be about one of the most iconic albums of all time: “Dark Side of the Moon,” Pink Floyd.

When I listen to music, it’s always more than just listening. It’s an experience. I focus on the sounds, the words and the art that is created through the instruments and the voices.

I really try to find a meaning. I try to find a purpose. Some songs challenge me more than others, but I like the challenge. I like being able to think of a message through my own unique interpretation.

I used to look up the meaning of songs online. Now I don’t. I create my own meaning, my own interpretation, and I use that to guide me.

Now, that’s just for a song. I faced the biggest challenge of interpreting music when I realized that I would have to interpret an entire album, an album that to me is just one long song, broken down into different parts.

That album is “Dark Side of the Moon,” by Pink Floyd.

A masterpiece. An album that will forever make me wonder, “how the hell did Floyd do it?” How did they piece together eight songs into a never-ending flow of music, 43 minutes of pure bliss?

I had never listened to the album straight through and really focused on it entirely. Dark Side of the Moon is a concept album, which means each song is connected to an overarching theme. I knew I had to experience it. I had to listen, focus, and learn. I wanted to find that theme.

So, I lied in bed, lights off, ear buds in, and cranked the volume up. I made sure I was completely immersed by the music.

I took a journey to the Dark Side of the Moon.

The pulse slowly got louder, as the album was preparing to speak to me. As the heartbeat reached its peak, the entire journey flashed before my eyes. Screams, voices, right into the language of a guitar.

I breathed in the air, which set me right into the music. What followed appeared to be travelling, as if I was on the run from something, but I was moving back in time. The guitar spoke to me, crying its message as time went backwards. Then, I breathed in one more time.

As the slow piano overtook the sound, I began to see what appeared to be visions from my past. The greatest gig of them all: my life. The piercing screams showed the dark times of my past. Perhaps, my “Dark Side of the Moon.”

After a brief pause, the tone picked up. I was no longer in the past. I had been zoomed to the future. The music showed me wealth, as money overtook my life. The money, which materialized me to a point of anger, turned into a new side of me. A different side of me. Us and them.

From there, I had a choice to make. I could have chosen any color I like. But my decisions in the present would ultimately decide where I go in life.

Would I choose a darker path, and experience brain damage from my poor choices? Or would I choose the brighter path, experiencing a complete eclipse of happiness?

Or, is there even a dark side of the moon? Is it all dark?

This was my biggest challenge. The interpretation of the final words in the album.

“There is no dark side of the moon. Matter of fact, it’s all dark.”

What did that voice mean? And why did Floyd decide to cap off the entire blend of songs with those words?

This is where I found the message of the album. The music took me on a journey, I experienced a past, and I saw what a future could be, based on certain decisions.

But what I interpreted, from that last line, is that in the end, it’s all dark. We all have the same ending.

We need to live our lives the way we want to live our lives. We all make our own story. We all have our own happiness.

Don’t worry about what others think. Don’t let anyone or anything determine your happiness besides yourself. Those are the decisions we need to make.

Because matter of fact, in the end, it’s all dark.