After I reached my destination, I but sat in my car to keep listening to the song. And the next thing I knew, I was crying. No, it wasn’t one of Gwen Stefani’s God-awful break up songs. It wasn’t a heart break song at all. There weren’t any vocals, and I was not experiencing a flux of hormones. I felt moved by the sound of bows being pulled across strings, and my eyes flooded over.
Why does it slightly embarrass me to admit this? If someone says my writing made them cry, it is the highest compliment I can receive. I have really touched them and they became invested in my characters.
I embrace my sensitivity as part of being fully conscious and alive. If you have never been moved to tears by music, art, or writing, then you have something to look forward to. And I am immensely grateful to the musicians that moved me so. (Do you want to know who it was this time?)
“I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I want.”
– Jack Kerouac
I guess it is pretty obvious what is on my mind today. Opportunity. Regret. Missed opportunity. Expectations. A jumble of feelings fueled and fanned and about to ignite. Hope nobody gets burnt. Especially me.
This one is for the artists, musicians, and writers who have felt the kind of loneliness conveyed in this video, as well as the connection made by one listener:
Jake Bugg Broken
I related to this video on many levels. In fact, I was watching it during a class I teach (a small class of four adults) and joked with a student sitting near me that this is how it feels to be a teacher; I pour my soul out, hoping at least one person is listening. I said it in a pretty funny way and we both laughed, but the loneliness is real.
There is a prayer by St. Francis of Assisi prayer that says “Better to be understanding than be understood.” I am not a saint. I strive to be understanding, but my desire to be understood pushes me to create and share, in hopes that someone will get me. And I do this unapologetically. It is what artists do, not saints.
You would not offer a hand
As I was drowning,
But I found the strength to swim.
My swimming is stunning.
You follow me now,
But I have gone too far.
Treading made me strong,
While you floated along in atrophy.
I left you the raft,
I am not cruel,
Just saving myself.