Sara

I'm trying to get over the fact that there's no "h" on the end of Sara in the title of this song -- I feel like that makes it a less than perfect choice for my birthday, but perfect is overrated anyway.

And with that all decided, here are the three reasons for picking this one today:

1) After a lovely birthday gathering at a local bar where I got to see many of my beloved friends, I got to go with my man and some couple friends to another friend's dance party. When the DJ realized it was my birthday, he said "Oh! I'll have to play Jefferson Starship!" which I thought was very cute. Unfortunately, there were so many enjoyable 80s songs cued up before it that I didn't end up getting to hear it, but I sure am enjoying it on youtube as I write this...

Sara, Sara, storms are brewin' in your eyes

Sara, Sara, no time is a good time for goodbyes

2) Which brings me to the second reason. When I told my boyfriend that the forecast for my birthday was stormy, he said he thought that was appropriate. "What does that mean?" I asked. He explained that he thought I had a stormy aspect of my personality, in a good way. And I could feel the goodness and the appreciation for my fire in his voice. Love that and this:

We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true...

...almost as much as I love the fact that my man and I are fire & fire, and I think our dream will come true.

3) And last but not least, I'm celebrating 40 years as SaraH today, and I'm welcoming, as I celebrate, whatever comes next, JS style:

Go now don't look back we've drawn the line

Move on it's no good to go back in time...

You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I climbed into bed tonight, I wasn't in a good frame of mind. It was a rough week, and I'd made some preparations for the evening that I thought meant it would go smoothly: I picked up the foods my kids liked, and I'd gotten a DVD from Netflix that one of them had requested. I was hoping for some joyful bonding at the dinner table followed by a snuggle on the couch together watching the movie. That's not what I got -- the food, somehow, wasn't up to par, and my daughter did NOT want her brother to watch the movie with us. I felt defeated, which isn't an easy thing to bounce back from when you're already feeling pretty depleted.

Long story short, the eve of my 40th birthday wasn't pretty in a lot of ways, and when this song came on:

You can't always get what you want (no, no baby)

You can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just might find

You just might find

You get what you need, ah yes...

I knew I hadn't gotten what I wanted, and further, I wasn't sure I'd gotten what I needed. I tried to get in touch with what was underneath the yucky feelings I was having, and unearthed some fear I was feeling about my boyfriend coming to town and meeting a bunch more of my friends. Although I wanted to take that step, my feet had some residual cement on them from the last time I felt this way and went down this road, and I realized that deep down, what I was really afraid of was being abandoned again. Like I was as a child, like I was in my marriage.

It was a big realization. It wasn't fun, but it was important to get in touch with it. In retrospect, I'm sure my kids were just responding to my own heavy energy -- and there's a much better chance that, having gotten what I needed (clarity about my feelings), I'll get what I want tomorrow on the big day...

Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle

It hasn't been a great week. There's been no breaking out of patterns, very little creative inspiration, a lot of emotional and physical fatigue, and maybe worst of all: a very quiet internal jukebox.

Upon waking this morning, I hit snooze a few times, and then woke up just enough to turn on my ipod. When this song came on, it didn't appeal to me as much in my mind or my heart as it did in my body. So I laid there, enjoying the reverberations, until something shifted and I managed to drag my ass out of bed. The ride to work was really cold this morning, colder yet on the way home in the rain, and the workday that came in between was long and unremarkable.

Checking out the lyrics tonight, I learned what Kurt was singing in the chorus:

I miss the comfort in being sad

I'm not sure what I thought he was singing, but that wasn't it. I really get his meaning. I'm also really glad that as blah as I've been feeling the last few days, it has been a long time since I've been in tune with that sentiment.

I Can't Fight This Feeling

It's a rare song for which, after a long day, a workout, and a trip to the grocery store, I'm willing to sit in my car in my driveway to listen to it when it comes on just as I'm arriving at home. But this classic REO tune met that strict scrutiny test tonight:

I can't fight this feeling any longer.

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.

What started out as friendship,

Has grown stronger.

I only wish I had the strength to let it show.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.

I said there is no reason for my fear.

Cause I feel so secure when we're together.

You give my life direction,

You make everything so clear.

And even as I wander,

I'm keeping you in sight.

You're a candle in the window,

On a cold, dark winter's night.

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.

And I can't fight this feeling anymore.

I've forgotten what I started fighting for.

It's time to bring this ship into the shore,

And throw away the oars, forever...

And just for the record, I have, in fact, thrown away the oars. I was having lunch with a friend today, and telling him about my new(ish) relationship, and how as impractical as it seemed (with the distance and the timing) and as much as I felt in my mind that the right thing for us to do was to break up, it just didn't stick. "That's a really good sign," he said.

Yep. And as goofy as REO's metaphor is in some ways, I intend to enjoy life on the shore without the oars. Which to me means that I no longer need an escape hatch, and I'm really, really grateful for that. It opens up another whole realm of possibility...

Sleep Tonight

I felt a little off tonight. I left work late, no one showed up for my yoga class, and I sort of half-heartedly did some birthday shopping that I would have once been really excited about. But I didn't feel like doing much of anything, and nothing that I did do felt quite right, including the conversation with my man, though I couldn't quite put my finger on the reason why.

Eventually I climbed into bed, turned on the old ipod, and after a much-appreciated Let It Be finished up, this dreamy number followed.

Listening to it, and reading the words, I realized that what I need most right now is a night when all the love's alive:

We don't want to sleep tonight

Still young like that I count the lines

Beside your mouth that smiles now

My arms reach up as you go down

With buried heads we both forget

All of the past and its regret

Wind picks up, the window shakes

We wont hear the morning break

You will cry

And I will cry

'Cause all the love's

Alive tonight

Neighbourhoods will try to dream

While you and me we hold and lean

Onto bodies slick and charged

Together just one beating heart

All around us quiet now

We hear the leaves fall to the ground

Morning light upon our bed

An ally while I catch your breath

You will cry

And I will cry

'Cause all the love's

Alive tonight

Beautiful. Lucky for me, it's right around the corner now...

I've Never Been to Me

This weekend I had the opportunity for two road trips with two of my favorite people on the planet -- my kids. Which means that the road trip didn't involve roadies, but it did involve one of my favorite driving CDs -- the soundtrack of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

As I sang along to one of my favorites on the album, my children listened intently, giggling about the goofy lyrics:

I've been undressed by kings

And I've seen some things

That a woman ain't supposed to see

I've been to paradise

But I've never been to me

That verse, both of them got. This one, thankfully, only the 11 year old:

I've spent my life exploring

The subtle whoring

That cost too much to be free

I've been to paradise

But I've never been to me

I discouraged him from explaining it to his sister, and as they razzed me for liking the song at all, I explained that it was about a woman who was feeling like her life was incomplete because she'd never had children. And I told them, as I often do, how grateful I am to be their mother.

Until very recently, I'd been feeling like I wanted to have another baby, in order to experience the family unity I didn't get to experience as a child myself or with my kids' father. Who knows? I may still have another baby, but if I do, it won't be to try to rewrite the past. And no matter what happens, I am going to continue to enjoy the children I already have, along with their evolving awarenesses...

Miss World

You know you're not waking up in a great frame of mind when Hole is the music playing on your internal alarm clock -- at least, that's not a good sign for me -- especially when it wakes me up earlier than I want to be up.

I remember the time in my life when I loved this album and it was characterized by a pretty high degree of self loathing, as is evident in these lyrics I used to be so fond of screaming:

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl you know, so sick I cannot try

And I am the one you want, can't look you in the eye

I am the girl, you know I lie, I lie and lie

I'm mostly not that girl anymore. I don't have trouble looking people in the eye and thanks to many, many modes of healing, I'm definitely not so sick I cannot try.

But I'm still struck by how I can be sent reeling (even temporarily) by being told I'm somehow not meeting expectations, whether in my personal or professional life. It's a good reminder that I need to set my own expectations for myself and mostly measure myself against them, but I also want to remember that it's ok to have room to grow, and I don't need to shut down when such an opportunity has been identified. Not now that I'm well enough to try...

I Want It All

Today was the kind of day that was only bearable because it ended with exercise, beer and burgers with a friend, and the next best thing to being with my man -- a late night phone call.

On my bike ride home tonight, I started hearing:

I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now.

It isn't really hard to figure out why. My friend and I were basically talking about having it all, and how we both mostly feel like we're getting it, except maybe not now since we both have relationships with people who don't currently live in Madison. And in the places where we don't necessarily feel like we're quite firing on all cylinders, we help each other out -- I try to give him some of the wisdom I've acquired and he reassures me with his youthful idealism (peppered with some political savvy that also comes in handy) that what I'm doing really matters and that I can take it.

Yep, just like the boys from Queen do in this verse, we talked about sex, ambition, personal power, integrity, leadership, initiative, truth, and both learning about and getting what you want:

I'm a man with a one track mind,

So much to do in one life time (people do you hear me)

Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies

So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all,

And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all,

It ain't much I'm asking, if you want the truth,

Here's to the future, hear the cry of youth,

I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,

I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now.

Helter Skelter

It has been an interesting week so far. It's almost as if I've been a watchful observer of myself, and one of the things I've noticed is that I've let lots of the things that I sometimes feel I need in order for a day to be complete -- from bananas in the morning to a beer, a glass of wine, or a kombucha in the evening -- fall away. I haven't had any of those things in three days, and it isn't because I told myself I can't have them -- I've just for some reason chosen to break out of my normal patterns.

I've also been exercising and meditating a lot, and my house is really tidy. I'm not really sure I recognize this person. It's normal for me to have at least one of those self-care things going at all times, but the trifecta is definitely uncharacteristic.

To what do I attribute all of this? I don't know, I really don't. As I've blogged about in the past few days, I've been moving through some pretty intense feelings, so maybe through that shedding I'm uncovering a healthier, freer version of myself? Whatever it is that is happening, it hasn't been altogether comfortable, that's for sure. But I also haven't reached for any crutches, as I sometimes do when I get uncomfortable. Hmmmmm.

Pondering all this while cycling to work today, Bono chimed in:

When I get to the bottom

I go back to the top of the slide

Where I stop and turn

and I go for a ride

Till I get to the bottom and I see you again

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Do you or don't you want me to love you

I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you

Tell me tell me tell me the answer...

I know, I know, it isn't U2's song -- it belongs to The Beatles -- and it's a damn fine song whoever is singing it!

Hurt

I've been hearing "I'm sorry for blaming you" on repeat for the past few weeks, on and off. I wasn't even sure what song the lyrics were from, but the powerful female voice just kept returning. A little you tube detective work, and I found this:

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do

And I've hurt myself by hurting you

As I sit here listening to her velvety voice and watching the video, tears rolling down my face, I'm struck again (as I was yesterday) at the comingling of feelings about exes and feelings about parents. I thought this song was coming up as a result of residual feelings about my marriage, and I think it was, in part. But that seems to be directly related to feelings about my father. From both the looks of the video and these lyrics, Christina feels the same way:

Would you tell me I was wrong?

Would you help me understand?

Are you looking down upon me?

Are you proud of who I am?

I think there's a part of me that would like the answers to those questions from both my ex and my father, and rather than judging that, I'm just going to try to be with it. I know full well that it may never happen, and if it did, it wouldn't necessarily make me feel differently about myself. Or at least, it wouldn't have to...

Daughter

Last night my daughter fell and hit her head. She'd created an indoor obstacle course, and the ottoman proved to be more topsy turvy than she calculated. She ended up with a big goose egg on the back of her head, and fell asleep shortly afterward, elevating my concern about a concussion. So I slept by her side, waking her every so often to check to see that she was ok.

I woke just before dawn, reassured myself again that she was indeed breathing, and came downstairs to meditate. I wanted to see if I could work through some of the tough feelings I was having before my kids left today for the week.

As I allowed myself to be with the feelings, I started to cry. At first the tears were for me as a mother -- feeling worried about my child, having to send her off to her Dad's with her injury -- but when the really big tears started coming, I saw that they were for me as a daughter. So many layers of grief about the love and care I craved as a child but so often didn't receive. Pondering this today, Pearl Jam came up on the internal shuffle with this heartbreaking number:

The shades go down it's in her head

Painted room...can't deny there's something wrong...

Don't call me daughter not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me daughter not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me...

She holds the hand that holds her down

She will...rise above

Don't call me daughter, not fit to

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me daughter, not fit to be

The picture kept will remind me

Don't call me...

The shades go down

The shades go, go, go...

This isn't about indicting my parents. They did the best they could. Sometimes, often even, the best someone can do isn't enough for someone else. It's no one's fault, but it's part of why every child emerges from childhood with scars -- some are just deeper than others.

One of the difficulties in my marriage was my desire to control the environment in an effort to protect my children from enduring the same pain I'd experienced, and though the desire is natural, it was a little misplaced (it isn't possible or even desirable to protect your child from all suffering), and it made it difficult to parent effectively with my husband.

I had to let go of all that when we got divorced, and now, as we enter the phase when another woman will sometimes be the one there when my child is hurting, I have to let go a little bit more...

You Oughta Know

There's a little part of me -- not the prettiest part, not the most evolved part, but part of me nonetheless -- that put out a request for this tune tonight. And as far from what Alanis is singing about as my situation is in a lot of important ways, it's still really satisfying hearing/watching her sing it:

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you

I wish nothing but the best for you both

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theatre

Does she speak eloquently

And would she have your baby

I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

'cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able

To make it enough for you to be open wide, no

And every time you speak her name

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me

Until you died, till you died

But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

After yoga tonight, I was talking to a friend about these feelings. "I totally get it,"she said, as I explained that knowing that my ex was with someone else just brought up all these feelings about what he wasn't for me (and to be fair, what we weren't to each other). I reckon that this is just another part of the grieving process -- a part that I didn't have access to until we landed in this new stage.

It isn't comfortable, but I know that if I can just muster up the strength to feel it (and have the space -- I've been with my kids all weekend) -- I'll be able to release it.

Change

The ipod shuffled onto this one last night in some of my last moments before sleep, when I was processing kind of a jumble of feelings. It's a beauty, and, as the universe would have it, it asks a number of questions that grapple with many of said feelings (love, heartbreak, former lovers finding love again with other people):

If you knew that love can't break your heart

When you're down so low you cannot fall

Would you change would you change?

To that verse, I can answer a resounding yes, both for myself and for my new(ish) love, because I think we both experienced standing on our edge where just a little more fear could've pushed us back down, but when it became clear that changing meant embracing love - we were up for it. And I do think there was a part of both of us that knew that love can't break your heart -- 'cause once you start feeling love again, it's harder to call your heart broken.

I suppose the same is true for my ex-husband as he embraces his new love, and I suppose the same will, at some point, be true for my man's ex-wife. And that's a good thing, it just feels sort of odd sometimes. Looking back on the latter part of our respective marriages, these questions seem apropos:

How bad how good does it need to get?

How many losses how much regret?

What chain reaction

What cause and effect

Makes you turn around

Makes you try to explain

Makes you forgive and forget

Makes you change

Makes you change

I think the key is that we sometimes come to a point in a relationship where it's just about impossible to change in productive ways within it -- and I think that point is where fear, not love, unconsciously starts to drive.

My ex-husband and I definitely got to that place, a place from which it was difficult, if not impossible, to deal with just what she is singing about in this next verse, a truth that brings a pain that can't be soothed:

If you knew that you could be alone

Knowing right being wrong

Would you change?

Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth

That brings a pain that can't be soothed

Would you change would you change?

What I needed, at that point, was for him to just be with me with that truth. To soothe the part that he could soothe, or at least, I thought/hoped the man I'd married could soothe some of my pain. And maybe we did that for each other in the beginning, but over time, it hardened:

Are you so upright you can't be bent

if it comes to blows

Are you so sure you won't be crawling

If not for the good why risk falling

Why risk falling

If everything you think you know

Makes your life unbearable

Would you change?

Would you change?

If you'd broken every rule and vow

And hard times come to bring you down

Would you change?

Would you change?

I'm changing now, Tracy, in ways I couldn't then. I hope the same is true for my ex, because I'm really hoping we're both capable of a more lighted, more spacious, and yeah, more soothing kind of love with our new partners...

Up to My Neck in You

Whew! I think we must've worked some magic with the second chakra during my yoga class today, because when the rest of the class was transitioning out of savasana (final relaxation pose), I was so deep into a sexual fantasy about my man that I failed to come back to an upright position for the end of the class. The yogis among you could quibble with my lack of presence, but I am here to tell you that yoga classes, like massages, sometimes come with happy endings!

Speaking of happy endings, I learned today that my ex-husband is in love again. What a relief! Here's hoping that this signals a transition to a new life where we both have new partners and the kids both have another loving adult in their life and everyone is happier than ever. His woman (living internationally at the moment) is visiting this weekend, so when the ipod played this astoundingly cool cover of an old ACDC song, I thought it apropos since he'll be up to his neck in her this weekend just as I was up to my neck in my fantasy this afternoon:

you came around when I needed you

now I'm up to my neck in you

up to my neck in pleasure

up to my neck in pain

up to my neck on a railroad track

waitin' for the trains to come on through

oh, you knew my time was due

you came around and you pulled me through

now I'm up to my neck in you

Jar of Hearts

I really dig this song, and I think my favorite fitness instructor does too, because she often plays it during the cool-down phase of the workout. I also dig it for helping grapple with feelings about people for whom you may have cared and/or loved, who now seem less than capable of what you thought or hoped they were capable of:

Who do you think you are?

Runnin' round leaving scars

Collecting your jar of hearts

And tearing love apart

You're gonna catch a cold

From the ice inside your soul

So don't come back for me

Who do you think you are?

The sad part is, it doesn't feel any better to treat someone badly than it does to be mistreated, and the only way I know of to melt an icy soul is love. Which takes me back to the same argument as with the blog about child abuse -- to the importance of compassion.

Too bad it is so much harder to come by some days than others. Riding home on the bike path, a guy almost hit me with his car by turning into a parking lot on the edge of the path. He then yelled something at me -- and if I'd been in my best frame of mind, I would've shrugged it off, I would've decided he'd had a hard day, I would've thought maybe I could have been more aware or more careful.

Not today. Today I used a couple of four-letter words and kept on riding, noting right after I did so that I needed to spend some time doing something that takes me out of that space and into the more generous one. I just don't have it in me to be one of the people walking around with an icy soul more than every once in a great while -- and I feel lucky that I have the emotional, physical and mental reserves to get myself back in the right direction when I veer off a bit...

Daylight

Got a sweet email from my friend, former nanny (of my kids, not of me, but that will become apparent shortly) saying she was channeling me today because her internal jukebox kicked in while she was riding her bike. I asked her what it played, and she sent me the link to this song on you tube. I'd never heard of Matt and Kim, but my 7 and 11 year olds both said "I know that song Mom!" when it started playing. Too cute.

In my fantasies about this blog, musicians send me samples just hoping I'll feature them at some point. This, I reckon, is a step in that direction, not to mention a pretty fun song:

and in the daylight we can hitchhike to maine

i hope that someday i’ll see without these frames

and in the daylight i don’t pick up my phone

cause in the daylight anywhere feels like home

I, for one, could really go for hitchhiking to Maine right about now. Sometimes being all grown up and having lots of responsibility feels limiting, but I've been on the other side too, and I know that too much freedom can feel exactly the same way. Guess I'll just try to be where I am and with how that's feeling...

Love Will Lead You Back

This morning I biked up to the capitol, grabbed some coffee, and then went to my gym to take a shower before I headed into work. While at the gym, I heard this song, and then literally found myself belting it out every semi-private moment I had during the day - in the hallway, in the bathroom, outside...

Whether or not you find it as compelling as I do, I am happy to report that it's also semi-topical for me because my boyfriend just decided he was going to fly out for my 40th birthday even though we'd previously decided it wasn't practical:

Love will lead you back

Some day I just know that

Love will lead you back to my arms

Where you belong

I'm sure, sure as stars are shining

One day you will find me again

It won't be long

One of these days our

Love will lead you back

Yep, and I for one am pumped that it isn't going to be nearly as long as I thought...

Up Against the Wall

This morning as I climbed up the last hill before reaching the Capitol, I noticed, as I have nearly every morning this month, the beautiful blue ribbons in the trees in the front of the Episcopal church on the square. The ribbons are there as a tribute to the many thousands of child abuse victims reported in Dane County last year.

And so, when the Be Good Tanyas came on my ipod tonight, I knew this was the perfect song for calling attention to this issue:

I know that you did not receive

What it was that you needed when you were growing

But tell me what's the worth

You're repeating history verse by verse

What do you prove

No matter what you say I think you'll lose

you'll lose

You'll lose her

Up against the wall

You don't stand so tall

Better run run run put your armor on again

Isn't it time we recognized that we all live such broken lives sometimes

And it's sad but true that you still carry so much with you...

Sunday Kind of Love

Today was a just-right Sunday for me. I slept in a bit, rode my bike downtown for a yoga class, had bagels afterward outside with a friend, rode home, had a nap outside in the backyard in the warm sun, went to visit a friend with two beautiful twin toddler girls, taught yoga, went out for coffee afterward, came home, ate a yummy dinner, and here I am.

This song came on the internal soundtrack this evening, and I'm guessing it was prompted by a number of factors. I am definitely in gratitude mode after a day like today, and one of the things I am grateful for is that I both want and have found a decidedly Sunday kind of love:

And my arms need someone

Someone to enfold

To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold

Love for all my life to have and to hold

Oh and I want a Sunday kind of love

Oh yea yea yea

It wasn't always so. And I reckon the other reason this song came up was that the friend I had coffee with is going through a divorce, and when I support friends through this process, I always end up talking about my own divorce, and my ex introduced me to Etta James.

Though we didn't talk about it in these terms, one of the saddest aspects of divorce, my friend and I decided, is that both people at least seemed to go into the marriage wanting the same thing:

Oh I’m hoping to discover

A certain kind of lover

Who will show me the way

But somewhere along the line, it breaks down. I'm a big believer in the breakdown coming, in every case, from both parties, but that's not the way my friend's spouse sees it, and I'm not sure that's the way my ex sees it either. Oh well. Not much we can do about that.

I'm pretty sure it is impossible to beat Etta's original, but it is something to see Christina Aguilera when she was only 8 years old belting this number out from a place to which I was unaware 8 year olds had access...

So Lonely

There are all different kinds of loneliness. There's the really empty kind, the kind where you're not only alone, but you can't feel your own life force, and thus you can't see any evidence you'll ever feel anything but lonely. That's the kind that the protagonist in Sofia Coppola's new movie Somewhere is dealing with. You wouldn't think that would be easy to watch, and it isn't easy, really, but it is enjoyable in a surprising sort of way.

Of all the songs in the soundtrack, this one stuck out for me, perhaps because I too am experiencing my own sort of loneliness at the moment. It definitely isn't characterized by emptiness -- more like by the absence of the full extent of the wholeness that I've found when I'm with my man. After a while, it just starts to hurt:

Now no-one's knocked upon my door

For a thousand years, or more

All made up and nowhere to go

Welcome to this one man show

Just take a seat, they're always free

No surprise, no mystery

In this theatre that I call my soul

I always play the starring role, so lonely

So lonely, so lonely, so lonely

So lonely, so lonely, so lonely

So lonely, so lonely, so lonely

So lonely, so lonely

So lonely

So lonely, so lonely, so lonely

So lonely, so lonely, so lonely

But alas, this loneliness is temporary. I'll probably always play the starring role in this theatre that I call my soul, but I sure will be psyched when my leading man appears in more scenes...

She Works Hard for the Money

Oh wow, has this been a long week. As the protest starting mounting again this afternoon, fueled by the Supreme Court Justice vote count mishap, I had to wonder where they got their energy. As for me, I think the stress of being in the midst of this situation is cumulative, in the same way that a mother of a newborn thinks she's as tired as she's ever been during those first few weeks, and she is, until the weeks of under-sleeping stretch into months.

And so it was Donna who came to me today, out of the far reaches of my youth, to give voice to my work-related exhaustion:

She works hard for the money

so hard for it honey

she works hard for the money

so you better treat her right...

Comfortably Numb

Today was a rough one. I fought with my 11-year old this morning, had the usual work-related stress, and found out during the work day that the little sister of an old friend had died of cervical cancer at age 37. Reading the article about it, I shed some tears at my desk, but it wasn't until after I'd tucked my kids in and called my boyfriend that I really let them rip.

Her death brought up a lot of sad feelings, feelings about lost friendships and the fragility of life. And it brought up this classic by Pink Floyd:

There is no pain you are receding

A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.

You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.

When I was a child

I caught a fleeting glimpse

Out of the corner of my eye

I turned to look but it was gone

I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown,

The dream is gone.

I have become comfortably numb.

Reading about her bravery at the end of her life, how when the pain got to be too much she realized it was time to teach her daughter about surrender, I wanted, but couldn't find, a place of comfortable numbness.

I know it's better this way. It hurts, but these losses are supposed to teach us about the preciousness of life, and they can't do that as effectively if we refuse to feel them...

Rolling in the Deep

I've got a serious girl crush. You know I'm a sucker for a great voice -- I wouldn't have looked twice at Eddie Vedder if I'd never heard him sing. Adele is like a female version of Eddie: she's a brilliant lyricist with a voice that I go to bed hoping will haunt my dreams.

This is probably my favorite (new) song at the moment, and when I heard it today, I lamented a little that I hadn't had it as a palliative during my own rounds of rolling in the deep. It's ok though. I'm glad not to be in that space anymore, and I'm glad to offer it up here for those who might find themselves there now:

There's a fire starting in my heart,

Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark,

Finally, I can see you crystal clear,

Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare,

See how I'll leave with every piece of you,

Don't underestimate the things that I will do,

There's a fire starting in my heart,

Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark,

The scars of your love remind me of us,

They keep me thinking that we almost had it all,

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless,

I can't help feeling,

We could have had it all,

(You're gonna wish you never had met me),

Rolling in the deep,

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep),

You had my heart inside of your hands,

(You're gonna wish you never had met me),

And you played it to the beat,

(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep),

Baby, I have no story to be told,

But I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn,

Think of me in the depths of your despair,

Make a home down there as mine sure won't be shared,

...Could have had it all,

Rolling in the deep,

You had my heart inside of your hands,

But you played it with a beating,

Throw your soul through every open door,

Count your blessings to find what you look for,

Turn my sorrow into treasured gold,

You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown...

Guess she told him, eh?

Round Here

This morning I had the privilege of meeting and talking with a woman who has had, by all accounts, a very difficult life. A life plagued by alcoholism, abuse, poverty, profound depression, periods of homelessness, heartbreak... As she shared openly about her life, I felt compelled to do the same. In so many ways, I am more fortunate than she. I've never known poverty, and I've always had a home. But alcoholism? Abuse? Depression? Heartbreak? Those I've known all too well.

I'm grateful to be in a place now where I'm largely liberated from all that heartbreak, and I think I'm at the point where I no longer wish my life had gone differently. In Tibet, the monks and nuns are said to offer up this prayer: "Grant that I might have enough suffering to awaken in me the deepest possible compassion and wisdom." Sitting at the table with this woman, and really hearing her story in a way that only a person who had lived a part of it could, in a strange way, I felt grateful for my suffering. Without it, I don't think I could have offered her what she needed in the same way: an open heart, empathy, and compassion.

The song that came to me on my bike ride home was this one, which was on repeat for me when I was wrestling with depression both in a low grade way in college, and in a big way, after the birth of my second child.

For me, this was always the most compelling part of the song, and when my internal jukebox played it tonight, I sent up a little prayer that someone, or something, will catch the woman I met today when next she's falling, because it seems inevitable it will happen again:

She says "it's only in my head"

She says "Shhhhh I know it's only in my head"

But the girl in the car in the parking lot

Says "Man you should try to take a shot

Can't you see my walls are crumbling?"

Then she looks up at the building

Says she's thinking of jumping

She says she's tired of life

She must be tired of something

Round here she's always on my mind

Round here hey man got lots of time

Round here we're never sent to bed early

and nobody makes us wait

Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late oh

I can't see nothing... nothing round here

Will you catch me if I'm falling

Will you catch me if I'm falling

Will you catch me cause I'm falling down on you

I said I'm under the gun around here

I'm innocent, I'm under the gun around here

And I can't see nothing

Nothing

Round here

Pride (In the Name of Love)

Today is the anniversary of the death of the man from whom I draw more inspiration than any other, Martin Luther King, Jr. I will never forget the outrage I felt as a little girl when we learned about him in school. How could someone kill such a good man? Almost 30 years later, I still can't say I understand it, just as I cannot understand why we continue to allow so many young black Americans to slip through the cracks of our educational system, destined, in many cases, for a dangerous, short life, and, more likely than not, a life behind bars. In Wisconsin, we tout our graduation rate as something to be proud of -- and it is, if you are white. In that case, you have an over 82 percent chance of graduating from high school in four years. If you're black, that chance drops to 49 percent.

One of the black men I admire who is still alive and fighting for these kids' education is Howard Fuller. If you saw Waiting for Superman, you might remember the scene where he talks about his tenure as Superintendent of Milwaukee Public Schools, where, after he saw videotaped evidence of poor teaching in some classrooms, he tried to fire the teachers: "I thought I was in charge!?" he said, as he explained that he was forced to reinstate them. Maddeningly, although that was 20 years ago, not much has changed since that time. Someone forwarded me an email from Howard the other day, and at the bottom was this quote from Mary McLeod Bethune:

“I will not rest while there is a single Negro boy or girl without a chance to prove his worth."

I'm not going to rest either. My role may be less obvious - I'm not a black man -- but I'm going to do what I can. I'm determined to help carry out the work of the incredible man who came in the name of love, shared his dream and gave his life for it:

Mmm...mmm...mmm...

Early morning, April 4

Shot rings out in the Memphis sky

Free at last, they took your life

They could not take your pride

In the name of love!

What more in the name of love?

In the name of love!

What more in the name of love?

In the name of love!

What more in the name of love...

I Lost It

This song was a loyal companion during the early days of my split, and it's been back on repeat again the last couple of days:

Gimme some love to fill me up

Gimme some time, gimme some stuff

Gimme a sign, gimme some kind of reason

Are you heavy enough to make me stay?

I feel like I might blow away

I thought I was in Heaven, but I was only dreaming

And it's the heavy enough to make me stay question that was with me when I awoke this morning. I know that this lyric appeals to me because I sometimes feel quite ungrounded. There are lots of ways I know to ground myself -- yoga is high on that list. At the top though, for me, is having the weight of another body on mine, and although it makes sense, it feels particularly cruel that when I've recently had that experience and then have to give it up, I feel even less grounded than I did before. Methinks this means I have some more work to do on grounding myself, without the assistance of another person.

Time to hit the yoga mat, but I'll leave you with another of my favorite verses:

I just wanna live the life I please

I don't want no enemies

I don't want nothin' if I have to fake it

Never take nothin' don't belong to me

Everything's paid for, nothin's free

If I give my heart, will you promise not to break it?

Mourning Air

Thanks, ipod, for finding a song to match my mood this evening. It's been a bit of a roller coaster of a day, with some brilliant moments, and some real low points. It's ending in a pretty good place - I'm hanging with my daughter -- but I can still feel a sort of pall over everything, and it's making me want to retreat into myself. So I think I'm going to indulge that feeling a bit, but try to stay in touch with the other parts of me, the parts that are happier connected, at the same time.

And I reckon that's exactly what this song is about:

Did I see a moment with you

In a half lit world

I'm frightened to believe

But I must try

If I stumble if I fall

I'm reaching out in this mourning air, ohh

Have I got the strength to ask

Beyond the window

I feel this fear alone

Until we have

Total honesty

If I tremble or fall

I'm reaching out in this mourning air, ohh

Should I feel a moment with you

To softly whisper

I crave nothing else so much

Longing to reveal

Total honesty

I can feel your touch

I'm reaching out in this mourning air, ohh...