it’s joyful somewhere. which sounds sadder than I mean it.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Thoughts and Feelings
as auntie annes, falsity, gathering storm, God, groundhog, Jesus, news, part, pretzel, time, Trenton, way, yellow pants
I have a friend who once told me that he was thinking about Jesus a lot. I asked him what it was that he was thinking, and he told me that he liked to think about the things Jesus did on earth. The practical things. Like eat strawberries. He said that he wondered if Jesus ate strawberries while he was here.
And I don’t know if Jesus preferred figs or strawberries, or if he could even choose when it came down to it cause maybe both were his favorite, but I know it’s good to wonder about God. I think it’s a good thing to ask questions.
And lately I’ve been wondering how God balances joy with sadness. How he manages to keep them from being mutually exclusive. I don’t quite understand how he can see the whole world, all the messes we make and promise to never make again and then go and make just once more this time, seriously, while still being confident in the way good will conquer evil.
And I’m tired of bad news. But I’m even more tired of it stealing something from me. Like today, for instance. It had been going lovely. I auditioned and it went well–aside from accidentally setting off the fire alarm–and well, I was wearing my yellow pants. I also ate one of my favorite things: an almond pretzel from Auntie Annes. I was listening to some songs that I am currently obsessed with and so the drive back from Trenton didn’t feel so long.
And then I got home to bad news. Really bad, dumb news. The kind of news that I thought was behind me; the kind of falsity that I thought I was DONE FINDING OUT. Oh, but just kidding. And then I was angry. And then I was sick inside. And then I was like, Where’s my day? Because even the sun had hidden itself behind the gathering storm and I looked at the sky and thought, You too?
And I know, it’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to feel sick. But I didn’t want my day stolen, you know? So I did what I do a lot of lately. I went running outside and I talked to God and I talked to myself and between those two conversations I started to feel better. And at one point I came across a chubby little groundhog and laughed because I couldn’t tell which one of us was more surprised by the incident. And that felt good. Laughing, I mean–not necessarily scaring a groundhog.
And maybe there is a part of me–something that feels so small it’s hard to miss at times–that is so deeply me, that no thief can steal it. It’s where my thoughts and my spirit and the way I reach though I might not even be moving at all meet. And maybe it’s strong, but maybe it’s just like saying oh, that color is so purple; because it’s either purple or not and I’m either me or not; whether bad news comes or whether I am startling a groundhog or setting off fire alarms or wearing yellow pants or crying because look, I slept a whole night and woke up to a life that still looks like this.
And so, that small part that is still me, no matter what? Well I think that God is all that part. And yeah, I do think he probably likes strawberries too. But I think that he is all himself all the time; that nothing can change that, and that’s part of the way he can balance such evident tragedy with true joy. Somehow he’s not dependent on what’s happening around him, though he cares, I do believe; somehow the ebb and flow of life can’t steal from him.
And I think I need more of that.
And I am grateful that someone, even if it’s not me all the time, is that way. Because I need to know it’s happening. Like that cheesy little sign you see in bars: it’s five o’clock somewhere, I like to think that someone is consistently joyful somewhere. That someone, somewhere, isn’t shaken by this.
And now I need to sleep.
Badly.
I’ve been up too long today as it is.
when you find out the sky is not blue
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Performance, Thoughts and Feelings
as blue sky, color, fuchsia, God, isn, light in the darkness, New York, purple sky, self deprecating, sky, something, time, Trenton
There are things that I know to be true. Self-evident, like it says on that famous declaration. It’s simple, like the earth being round. Like our blood being red. Like God and how he said something once to turn on the light in the darkness and how that still holds true for me now, literally and metaphorically.
But then something happens and it’s like you walked outside and discovered that the sky isn’t blue, that it’s never been blue and you’re such an idiot for ever having believed that, much less written songs about it. Only the sky isn’t so personal so it’d be okay. You’d get used to the green or the purple or the fuchsia and even find it beautiful. And in time you’d tell others in a self-deprecating manner to Get this, you totally used to think the sky–which is so clearly not blue–was in fact blue! and you’d laugh and raise a glass to the way that truth becomes clearer with time.
But who am I kidding, the sky doesn’t have much to do with me personally.
And colors are simply colors; they are not people, they are not hearts, they are not lives that intertwine so easily, so dangerously, so beautifully.
But if something monumental like that–something that I always thought was a given changed, what would happen to me?
I’d still find a way to be me.
I’d have to.
I’d do what I do under a dark purple sky. I’d still board the train to New York and yes, I’d miss the blue sky and the familiarity that brought, but I’d do the things that confirm who I am despite the color above me.
Which is what I did a few weeks ago. There was an audition for a show I’d dye my hair just about any color to be in (which might not be saying much lately) and I knew I had to go. So the night before I went through the motions of readying myself. I laid out what I was going to wear, made sure I had a matching pair of heels, and went over a sixteen bar cut for the song.
I got up the next morning to go. I didn’t feel like going, but the truth is that I didn’t feel like doing anything at all, so I really couldn’t listen to my feelings. I drove to Trenton and bought the ticket to New York but by the time I got to New Brunswick something happened. My hands were shaking. My heart was racing and I was scared. Really, really scared. I got off at New Brunswick, bought a ticket back to Trenton, and for the first time that morning, felt a little bit of peace.
I tried, guys; I tried.
I tried to do the things that I do even though the sky was no longer blue.
Which is why I am playing a gig this Thursday night. I am hoping the anxiety won’t come because my music has always been a very safe place for me. But the thing is, like my feelings, I don’t want to keep listening to anxiety. I want to play my songs because that is part of what makes me me.
And I need to be me.
No matter what color the sky happens to be.
