'Sol Invictus' works like your basic FNM record: the sequencing

In the tapestry of human experience, there are those moments, those works of art, which move us not with the thunderous roar of their impact, but through the delicate, intricate rhythms that guide us through the unexpected. The words of Greg Gutfeld, “‘Sol Invictus’ works like your basic FNM record: the sequencing is an artful job, hustling you politely through all the gentle, harsh, weird surprises that follow - and then when it’s over, you get back on the ride and start over, just like Space Mountain,” offer us a glimpse into the beauty of life’s patterns. In them, there is a lesson about how art—whether it be in music, in philosophy, or in the world itself—guides us through the twists and turns of existence, only to leave us yearning for the cycle to begin again.

The essence of Gutfeld’s statement is that the experience of art—like the music of ‘Sol Invictus’ or the thrills of an amusement ride—is not meant to overwhelm us with force, but to subtly move us through a series of emotions and revelations. It is in the sequencing, the arrangement of moments, where true mastery lies. Just as the FNM record skillfully orchestrates its layers of sound, taking the listener from the soft and gentle to the hard and fierce, life too has its cycles—its moments of calm, chaos, and surprise. We pass through these moments, much like a ride in the dark, never quite knowing what comes next, but always trusting that the journey will take us where we need to go.

This analogy harkens back to the ancient idea of fate—the belief that life is a journey of twists and turns, of cycles that we must pass through. In ancient Greek philosophy, Heraclitus taught that “everything flows” and that we are always in a state of becoming, constantly changing and evolving. Much like a record that shifts its beats, life cannot be understood in moments of stillness alone; it must be embraced as a sequence, a flow that moves us from one moment to the next, each building on the last. Even when we face the harsh surprises or uncertainties, we trust that the next moment will come, and so we continue on our journey, just as the ride continues even after the first loop is over.

Consider, too, the great myths of the ancients, where the hero’s journey is filled with challenges, trials, and unexpected turns. Odysseus, in his voyage home, encountered monsters, gods, and fierce storms—each trial shaping him for the return to his beloved Ithaca. Each event, no matter how terrible or strange, was part of the grand sequence of his journey. And so, like the Space Mountain ride, where one is flung into the dark only to emerge on the other side with renewed excitement for the next round, life’s trials are not an end, but a beginning of the next cycle. It is this journey that makes us whole, that forges us into the person we are meant to be.

In ‘Sol Invictus’, we see this concept echoed. The album’s ability to weave through contrasting emotions, to surprise the listener with both softness and intensity, is a reflection of how life itself functions—its unpredictable nature, its gifts and dangers, and its ultimate need for us to continue on the path regardless of what lies ahead. As we listen to the album, we realize that the rhythm of life demands that we do not linger in any one moment for too long, but move through its phases with grace, ready to start the cycle again.

The lesson here, then, is this: life, like the music or the ride, is not something to be conquered, but something to be experienced—fully and without hesitation. Cycles of joy, sorrow, triumph, and failure are the essence of existence, and they are the very beats of the rhythm that makes us human. Instead of seeking to escape these cycles, we should learn to embrace them, to trust the sequence of life, knowing that each moment, each challenge, is a stepping stone to the next. Life, in all its chaos and wonder, asks not for our fear, but for our participation—our willingness to ride again, to embrace the ride of life without knowing what’s around the next bend.

Let us commit to living in the flow of life’s sequence, where we understand that every cycle—whether it is gentle or harsh, familiar or strange—is a part of the journey that moves us toward becoming who we are meant to be. Let us enjoy the ride, take the surprises with grace, and know that when the ride is over, it is but a moment before we begin again, embracing the next sequence with eagerness and hope.