Baby Now that I Found You

Today is the one year anniversary of the day I met my man. It's funny to look back on the post I wrote about that night now -- I ended it with: "Those arms will find me when the time is right" which was what I said to reassure myself because I'd gone to bed alone the night of the wedding at which we met. Little did I know (at least consciously) that his arms really would be the ones to find me, or, because he was dressed in clothes that didn't show off his righteous bod, that they'd be so hot.

Lucky me.

So many songs could mark this day, and even though most of this Foundations hit doesn't fit, as I type this, it's this Allison Krauss cover blaring on the inner jukebox:

Baby, now that I've found you

I can't let you go

I'll build my world around you

I need you so...

True love will find you

The Beck cover of this tune was the ipod's selection at an opportune moment this evening -- a moment in which I was savoring the trueness of the love I'm experiencing now:

True love will find you in the end

You'll find out just who was your friend

Don’t be sad, I know you will,

But don’t give up until

True love finds you in the end.

I was unfamiliar with this song, which was apparently written and originally performed by Daniel Johnston, of whom I'd never heard. Brilliant lyricist, he is. Particularly in this second (and last) verse, he captures my experience of being willing to be vulnerable, to do it differently this time around:

This is a promise with a catch

Only if you're looking will it find you

‘Cause true love is searching too

But how can it recognize you

Unless you step out into the light?

But don’t give up until

True love finds you in the end.

I'm so glad I didn't give up before it found me. Or give up when it found me, for that matter....

Oh, and here's one more cover, if you still haven't had enough -- this one's Wilco.

California Gurls

My kids made reference to the song California Girls today, and while I thought it was a bit strange that they knew the old Beach Boys classic, I also thought it was pretty cool.

Until they started singing it, and I realized it was very definitely NOT the Beach Boys classic:

California girls

We're unforgettable

Daisy Dukes

Bikinis on top

Sun-kissed skin

So hot

We'll melt your Popsicle

Oooooh oh oooooh

I wish they all could be California Girls...

Your Next Bold Move

The ipod dialed this one up, and it fit perfectly with exactly what I've been wondering about: What's my next bold move? Career-wise, I mean:

So go ahead

Make your next bold move

Tell us

What's the next thing you're gonna need to prove

To yourself

It's not so much what I need to prove to myself, but where I can best put my talents and passion to work for this world. It's all really up in the air right now, which is sometimes exciting and other times a little bit frightening. I know it's all going to come out ok, it's just tough for us humans to deal with the uncertainty sometimes, I reckon...

Knock on Wood

I had the pleasure of being with my man tonight during a huge summer storm, which gave new meaning to an old fave:

It's like thunder and lightning

The way you love me is frightening

In a good way, of course!

Landslide

Right in the middle of a rather tumultuous few days with my kids, my man and I laid next to each other wondering if we knew what we had bargained for by taking our long distance relationship and transplanting him into my Madison with-kids life.

As luck would have it, Pandora was on in the background, and it was no small comfort to hear Fleetwood Mac take on some of the same big questions and come away feeling like it's ok to sometimes feel like you're in the middle of a landslide. It doesn't necessarily mean you've taken a wrong turn or done something wrong, it just happens sometimes.

Maybe particularly when you're willing to risk a big undertaking. You know, like leaving your husband, sleeping around for a while, and then eventually falling in love again and meeting someone worthy of your kids. Or moving across the country to be with a woman with two kids when you've spent the first 45 years of your life kidless in New England:

I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills

Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Well, I've been afraid of changing

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older and I'm getting older too

Oh, I'm getting older too

Awh, take my love, take it down

Awh, climb a mountain and turn around

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well, the landslide bring it down...

The Dam at Otter Creek

The temptation, now that he's no longer able to access my blog, to write about my ex-husband in a less charitable way, I'll admit, is there. Especially after a recent episode with the kids, which involved, get ready for this -- them being bitten and scratched by otters while on my watch. It was a traumatic experience for all those present, and I'm sure it was pretty scary for my babydaddy to hear about it secondhand, but the fact that it turned into yet another way for him to point out what he sees as my less-than-optimal mothering is a pretty big drag for yours truly.

I know it must be hard for him with my new boyfriend here, spending time with his kids -- god knows it was an adjustment for me when I first dropped my kids off with his new woman -- but of course, he can't admit that, or let himself feel the sadness of which Live sings:

When all that's left to do

Is reflect on what's been done

This is where sadness breathes

The sadness of everyone

So he evades the sadness by finding things to be mad at me about. It's a drag, but there isn't much I can do about it, and I don't want to live my life able to be derailed by his negative energy, that's for damn sure...

How Could Anyone

This song goes out to all those among us (which probably includes all of us) who were at some point wounded by our parents. Not because they didn't love us, but because they were human, and had wounds of their own that hadn't healed sufficiently to have what we needed:

How could anyone ever tell you?

You were anything less than beautiful…

How could anyone ever tell you?

You were less than whole…

How could anyone fail to notice?

That your loving is a miracle…

How deeply you're connected to my soul…

When I was doing the heavy duty healing from my own childhood wounds, I used to listen to this song on repeat, preferably in my car, where I could belt it out, cry -- do whatever I needed to release the sadness from the kid inside me, let her sing, and remind her that I'm here now to see her beauty and her wholeness, as are many others.

This really helped me let go of some feelings I really didn't want to carry around anymore anyway. They weren't doing me, my own children, or anyone else any good, but they needed to be felt.

We Shall Overcome

Walking through the Capitol today, I heard a group of people doing a particularly moving rendition of this old protest song:

We shall overcome, we shall overcome,

We shall overcome someday;

Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,

We shall overcome someday.

There are so many beautiful versions of this song on youtube, both talking about it and singing it, beginning with my hero, Martin Luther King, Jr. Maybe the most famous version of the song is Joan Baez's, but I also dig, as usual, the cover by The Boss.

I hear the protesters nearly daily, and though I don't join in their singing, I do join them in this wish:

We'll walk hand in hand, we'll walk hand in hand,

We'll walk hand in hand someday;

Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,

We'll walk hand in hand someday.

And I truly believe this:

The truth shall set us free , the truth shall set us free,

The truth shall set us free someday;

Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,

The truth shall set us free someday.

Now, if we could just start telling the truth. All of us.

Broken Wings

I've got another cheesy oldie to share today, this one courtesy of a long-haired (mulleted, but not helmeted) dude riding his chopper on Monroe St., blaring his radio:

Take these broken wings

And learn to fly again

And learn to live so free

And when we hear the voices sing

The book of love will open up

And let us in

Mister Mister, you may be cheesy, but you're on to something here. The book of love is more powerful than I ever dreamed it could be, and I'm now fortunate enough to get to experience of which you sing on a regular basis:

Baby I think tonight

We can take what was wrong

And make it right

I need you so

Baby it's all I know

That you're half of the flesh

And blood makes me whole

I need you so

Faithfully

Love it when Journey enters my psyche, whether from the radio or from a place inside. It always makes me think about one of my friends from high school -- especially this song -- because he was a music man (of the garage band variety) and he did love me faithfully (and still does).

This afternoon I didn't have to hear it on the radio, though -- I began to hear it while I was talking to a fascinating man at a conference. He was telling me all about his legislative career, and how proud he was, though he was the member of a particular party, to represent all the people in his Senate district. He felt great about having the support from both sides of the aisle.

And the reason, according to him, that he enjoyed such support? God. "They know I'm Christian and they're Christian, so they trust me, even if they belong to the other party," he explained. Hmm. To my mind, that's another construct -- and I don't need a construct to find the good in people. But maybe a lot of us do, and maybe I can somehow apply that to my own efforts to bridge the divide. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, enjoy the Journey. (I just have to paste all the lyrics because it's such a great song.)

Highway run

Into the midnight sun

Wheels go round and round

You're on my mind

Restless hearts

Sleep alone tonight

Sending all my love along the wire

They say that the road

Ain't no place to start a family

Right down the line it's been you and me

And loving a music man

Ain't always what it's supposed to be

Oh Girl

You stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Circus life

Under the big top world

We all need the clowns to make us smile

Through space and time

Always another show

Wondering where I am lost without you

And being apart ain't easy on this love affair

Two strangers learn to fall in love again

I get the joy of rediscovering you

Oh girl

You stand by me

I'm forever yours

Faithfully

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

Oh oh oh oh oh oh

Faithfully

I'm still yours

I'm forever yours

Ever yours

Faithfully

All By Myself

This cheesy oldie came to me as I was processing some difficult feelings involved in letting my lover into my life more deeply:

When I was young

I never needed anyone

And makin' love was just for fun

Those days are gone

Yes, those days are gone. And although that's a positive thing in so many ways, sometimes it literally hurts to let someone in, especially if what you are letting them see is something that you don't much like looking at (in) yourself. Yep, that's really hard.

But when I heard the chorus of this song on my inner jukebox, I sang along, loudly proclaiming:

All by myself

Don't wanna be, all by myself anymore

All by myself

Don't wanna live, all by myself anymore

Of course, I haven't been literally all by myself in over a decade, when my little ones came into my life. But there was still a part of me living alone for all that time. She's not alone anymore...

My Prerogative

Regular readers may have noticed a lag in my posts. Sorry about that, especially if you've missed my musings anywhere near as much as I have missed writing them. I'm chalking up the hiatus (during which I often saved songs but never sat down to write the posts) to two factors:

1) My boyfriend and I trying to figure out how to be two people living in the same city and dating as opposed to two people living 1000 miles apart who want to spend every possible moment together when they have the opportunity -- I'm not sure either one of us (or our bodies) have settled into this-isn't-just-a-visit-this-is-our-life mode just yet; and

2) My ex-husband discovering my blog and freaking out about what I've been writing about for the last year, culminating in me agreeing to make my blog private, though that doesn't feel like the right decision for me (so it is strange that I agreed to it at all, especially since he labeled me "utterly self-absorbed" -- perhaps that particular verbal lashing doesn't hold a lot of truth).

And it's the second reason that had Bobby Brown cranked up on my very own personal stereo today:

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me now

Why don't they just let me live?

I don't need permission

To make my own decisions

That's my prerogative

Oh yes, I almost forgot, there was another reason this song popped into my head -- my google alert brought up this post from a fellow blogger. Ouch. Good thing I have such thick skin these days.

Tell me, tell me

Why can't I live my life?

Without all of the things

That people say

Of course, I know why -- because I'm choosing to be in the public eye, both in my job and in my blog, and that means people will try to make their own sense of what I'm trying to do in this world. I'm also daring to blur the lines that many people take for granted, comforting lines (such as party lines) that help people operate from a more comfortable space.

What makes me saddest about his post is the assumption that I'm working in my job -- by virtue of who I'm working with -- for anything other than what I want for my own kids: schools where kids and adults alike are nurtured and free to develop into the beautiful beings that they are. We're so far from that in the public schools right now, we're going to have to erase the lines and start over to come up with a solution, and we're not going to be able to do that if we insist on choosing sides. So I'm not going to. Choose a side, or stop blogging:

It's the way that I wanna live

I can do just what I feel

No one can tell me what to do

'Cause what I'm doing I'm doing for you