First things first, I strongly urge you to read this story before you read this—because this was completely inspired by that story. (Spoiler alert: grab a tissue before clicking the link. And then come back here and read this, please.) But if you don’t have the time or wherewithal to read the backstory, well, that’s on you to figure why this makes sense.
Who…are you…am I?
Other people’s playlists, songs.
Windows to the soul.
I read the article I’ve asked you to read when I saw it posted on social a little over a week ago. The story hit me viscerally in a number of ways…from the breathtaking love of family through the devastating gut punch of loss. As I read, the words were strung into sentences, and I could feel the string of words wrapping around my heart— sometimes it felt like it had somehow woven itself together to blanket my heart in a hug, and others it felt like the string was sawing its way through it. And I hadn’t a clue as to why.
No matter…the story has stuck with me (haunted me?) since. So I’ve had to process it.
First things first it probably bears noting I’ve always had what I would characterize not quite as a weird fascination with death but more like an acute awareness of mortality. Obviously COVID is spiking this thing within me, subconsciously and otherwise. So this story hit me hard.
Anyway the article mentions a playlist by title, so my immediate (almost involuntary) reaction was to see if it was on Spotify…and it was. I scanned it quickly…some of the artists and titles I recognized and like (say, Vance Joy, Mumford & Son), some of that overlap was less mainstream, like Rex Orange County, Johnnyswim and The 1975 (bonus!), and some were new to me so I figured it was worth a listen on my next walk. As you (should) know, I’m always up for new tunes. What happened when I listened was unexpected. I felt strangely and inexplicably more connected to the story, and I also felt aurally voyeuristic. I was listening and processing simultaneously, unsure what I was going to be listening to next or how I’d react to hearing it. I was aware that reading the article was triggering something, yet I had no idea what that specific something was. (Here’s a link to the playlist, for when you finish reading.)
As I walked and listened and reflected, my thoughts fell into three broad categories:
The abiding love of sisters, including sisterfriends. I can’t imagine losing a sister let alone a “wombmate.” My older sis and I are 14 months apart and we’ve had WTP (Wonder Twin Powers) from the get. (WTP essentially is texting each other the same weirdo rando thing at the same time.) My younger sis is four years younger so our connection is less organic, but I am equally protective of our relationship in its own unique way…we worked hard to knot and knit and crochet our connection over the gap of time, and I defy anyone to try to unravel the handiwork that is our labor of love. No matter what, my love for my sisters is something for which words have not been invented…and the same can be said fir my sisterfriends…the amazing women who I would lay down my life for time and again, not caring whether they would do the same for me but knowing with absolute certainty that they would.
Music as connective tissue. I’ve written specifically about this and mentioned it in passing, but I have to mention it again because it’s that important (to me, anyway)…there’s nothing like music to connect us. I think of when I see people at concerts who I in a knee-jerk reaction conclude, based on looks alone, are “nothing” like me…and then realize that they are nothing like me except that we’re at the same concert and they do in fact have something in common with me and it’s something critical…this music that we both like connects our souls. And I realize we’re all essentially a different version of the same person.
The severity of this virus, and its impact. It’s easy to, when we haven’t been impacted by this virus in some way, to find explanations for why this COVID isn’t a big deal. But you know what, this is f-cking serious, and life is f-cking fragile so let’s drop the raging egomania and respect the fragility of our circumstance and bow down to the happenstance that defines us here. It’s all a big game of chance, but we have a shit ton of control over how we play.
Beyond those big three themes, these specific tracks jumped out at me:
Pumpin Blood by NONONO. This song’s peppy, upbeat, and one I already knew. So when it came on, I started to bounce a bit…and then the lyrics started screaming in my brain and all I could think was “No, no, no” and not as in the name of the band but oh, my God, the surviving twin…listening to these words…just, no…no…no:
This is your heart, it's alive
It's pumping blood
It's your heart, it's alive
It's pumping bloodI mean, how do you listen to this knowing what your sister’s heart went through, how she suffered, and that she was physically alone when she died? I can’t even. If you’re reading this, you’re alive, your heart’s pumping blood, and that alone makes you really f-cking lucky. Celebrate it, and cherish it. A number of other songs in the playlist are remixes (case in point Vance Joy’s Flic Flac remix of Ripted) so lots of extra thumping beats. I can’t say whether Audrey did or didn’t know what fate awaited her, but I do know that we need to live fully and make every beat count.
Tequila, by Dan + Shay. Ok so I know this song and duo were (are?) popular in certain circles…and those circles did not intersect with the Venn diagram of my life, which was fine. But my sole “rule” with listening to this playlist was that I wasn’t going to skip anything…so I couldn’t skip this. And now I get it. The lyrics might not be your thing, and the melody might not be your thing, and the genre might not be your thing…they might not be my thing either…but I listened and now I get it, in that I can’t imagine anyone can listen to the words and not feel them on some level…isn’t there something that transports you to a place that you probably thought was long forgotten yet somehow you realize you’re all in the right there? That’s this song.
Surfin’ by Kid Cudi and Pharrell Williams. These lyrics are straightforward, essentially “I’m not riding other people’s waves because I’m too busy making my own.” This is so important, to remember that we all have a chance to live life on our own terms. We can ride other people’s waves and that can be exhilarating in and of itself. But it’s not the be all end all. We can create our own waves…and let others ride them or ride them ourselves. But you can’t ride a wave that hasn’t been created, so there are different and critical roles we all can play. Some people need the limelight, they need to ride the wave and bask in the glow. Others need to make the waves and the go relax out back and have a beer with people they love.
Green Eyes and a Heart of Gold by The Lone Bellow. Gotta address the title track of the playlist. And for me, these lyrics root me: Green eyes and a heart of gold/All the money’s gone and the house is cold/And it's alright… My grandmother was forever reminding us that we were rich in love…and when I hear this song I think “if you have love, it doesn’t matter if the money is gone and the house is cold…it is alright.”
Beyond these broad categories and specific song-spurred reflections, there also were some broader themes that emerged from the playlist. Coupled with the story, the playlist is full of haunting seemingly coincidence-ish things, many of them that illuminate the often contrasting and contradictory desires that live within us.
The big one was the battle between this need or desire to run wild while possessing this general sense of responsibility, of physical and financial stillness, of commitment. Balancing a dreamy wanderlust with sensible need for rooting. We feel a deep passion for these conflicting “things,” and trying to honor each of them causes a deep and dark chasm within us. Or at least that is how it is for me. Tracks that triggered this semi-wistful feeling were Fast and Slow by Sons of the East, Moving Mountains by The Brevet, and As We Ran by The National Parks.
Another important theme is how we need to be in the moment and love ourselves. For real. It sounds sappy but this is some serious sh-t. Like when Hozier sings Someone New, he’s singing about the object of the lyrics. But we don’t need another object to validate our growth. Seriously we all need to explore ourselves and fall in love with who are in any and every given moment. Same with Burn With Me by Whilk & Misky. Kind of like “may your best today’s be your worst tomorrows.” May you be your own worst enemy, acting as your compassionate and loving own best friend. Without self love, we’re capable of very little, and of nothing meaningful.
And the last big idea woven through these songs for me was this idea of general oneness, particularly reflected in Laney Jones’ Run Wild. The sky is beneath our feet. It’s above us and around us. We are all a part of everything else, all a part of each other. What does it mean to acknowledge that? To live it?
When my dad died, he was cremated and buried in a national cemetery…which meant he got a small stone that couldn’t say much. My mom was decisive about what it should say: “Loved his life. Lived his life.” I keep thinking of it now, for two main reasons: 1) we have zero say in how much time we have and 2) we have 100% control of how we live, how we act and respond. For me the moral of this story is that every day we need to live in a way that we honor ourselves. And in doing that we will honor others. When our time is up, no one will wonder whether we did enough or were happy—our lives will have answered the question conclusively.
Love your life. Live your life.
Be happy and do enough every day. Dance to every beat. I think it really is that simple and the game of life tries to trick us into thinking that it’s harder.
Like most weeks, I end in a different place than where I started, which in this case means changing the last line of Maiku altogether.
Who…are you…am I?
Other people’s playlists, songs.
Our own reflection.
We can project and internalize and focus on and see and feel whatever we want. Every window is a telescope and a mirror. So it comes down this this: what and who do we want to be, who do we want to see in whatever mirror? Especially if this moment, this beat, this breath…is our last?
Have a great week and thanks for being here. I’ll send you into the week with this selection from the same playlist because, reflections:
"Balancing a dreamy wanderlust with sensible need for rooting." This one really hit home (that whole paragraph did). Really great post!