Wasted

This song came into my head this morning as I was trying to motivate myself to get up and go to work:

If you had eyes like golden crowns and diamonds in your fingertips you'd waste it
If shining wisdom passed your lips and traveled to the ears of god you'd waste it
And so I hate that you're overrated most revered and celebrated cause you're wasted

I didn't immediately understand the connection to anything I had going in my life -- and then I started watching this video, and saw the little girl from the audience come up on stage and sing along with Brandi, and started to cry, as I always do when children sing. I haven't been able to really discern what the tears are about -- perhaps that's a good subject for therapy -- but I can say that they feel more loaded than just the tears that come from being moved. They are heavier than that, weighed down, it seems, with regret.

Regret about what, I don't know. What have I been given that I've wasted? My voice?

Every time you close a door and nothing opens in its place you've wasted
And when you speak the words you know to those who know the words themselves you're wasted,
You're such a classic waste of cool, so afraid to break the rules in all the wrong places

Then again it's good to get a call
Now and then just to say hello
Have I said I hate to see you go...hate to see you go

My daughter had a school performance on Friday, and she informed me on Thursday that she'd be lip syncing rather than singing, particularly the Joni Mitchell song. My first instinct as a parent is to support my kids' decisions, but in retrospect, I reckon it'd be more useful to question her on that one a bit. Why not sing out loud?

Listening to WPR the other day, I realized it wasn't just my daughter who is self conscious about her voice. The show was dedicated to Levon Helms, who died last week, and for those who don't know, was a singer and musician who found fame in The Band. He died of the throat cancer that he'd beaten into remission 10 years before. In the interview I was listening to, he talked about what changed when he defied the odds and went back to singing after throat cancer. "I still can't say I'm in love with the sound of my own voice," he said, "but at least I'm letting myself enjoy it more."

Wow. If a man who made his living with his voice as one of his instruments doesn't love it and has to contract cancer to find the joy in his singing, what does that say about us as a species?

I'm not sure. But I for one am going to focus on not wasting this precious voice -- and whatever other gifts -- I've been given. And I'm going to do my best to enjoy them, too.

Heaven

During the cool down period of my noon workout yesterday,  I heard, for the first time, the Brandi Carlile cover of this Bryan Adams classic. I have to warn you that the video of Brandi's version is bizarre, but that doesn't change the fact that hers is a haunting rendition of a pretty damn cool song. I wrote off Bryan Adams as a cheesy 80s dude, but this isn't the first time I've revisited his work and been pleasantly surprised. Could be the nostalgia factor, I don't know.

In any case, this song is also somewhat topical for me today. Not in the sense that I met my lifelong love early and he's still all I need:

Oh, thinkin' about all our younger years
There was only you and me
We were young and wild and free
Now nothin' can take you away from me
We've been down that road before
But that's over now
You keep me comin' back for more

Baby you're all that I want

When you're lyin' here in my arms

I'm findin' it hard to believe

We're in heaven

Nope, that's not my life. And when I allow myself to go into the space where I feel less than because that's not my life, I struggle and suffer. As he sometimes does, Eckardt Tolle has helped get me back on track as I've listened to him the past few days, reminding me that whenever you feel either less than or greater than another being, that's the ego talking. It ain't easy, in our culture, to stay out of the ego space, but it sure feels better when I can manage it.

For me, yoga helps, and last night I treated myself to the most blissful yoga space I know of in town, Lisa's class at the Perfect Knot. It is taught in a warm room, and the release that comes from intentionally letting go is heaven. When I enter that space, I'm so much more able to be one with where I am now, which is both still in the process of becoming more fully myself and in love with a beautiful man still becoming more fully himself:

And love is all that I need
And I found it there in your heart
It isn't too hard to see
We're in heaven

Which is a pretty damn great place to be (even if it isn't always comfortable), and often does feel like heaven, even if it isn't quite the fairytale romance that Bryan (and Brandi) are crooning about here:

Oh, once in your life you find someone
Who will turn your world around
Bring you up when you're feelin' down
Yeah, nothin' could change what you mean to me
Oh, there's lots that I could say
But just hold me now
'Cause our love will light the way

I'm really going to try to trust in that last line and let that be enough for today, because the empowering part of loving someone -- just like I described above with my yoga practice -- isn't the clinging part -- it's the letting go...

Hold on Loosely

I've been suffering from a couple of physical ailments the last few days -- started with a sore low back and then added pain in my right wrist. I went to the chiropractor for my back, and I also called my friend, who is often the one to point me in the Louise Hay direction when I'm experiencing physical pain.

According to Louise, the pain in my lower back was calling out for me to affirm this:

I trust life to support me. My every need is taken care of. All my bills are paid. I am safe.

As it happens, I have been freaking out of late about finances. Taxes always do that to me, for one thing -- they are almost always an occasion for me to cough up a bunch of cash rather than getting a big fat refund, so I never like to face that music. And I'm still trying to establish a system whereby I can live on one income and support my kids. I think I'm onto something now (started a new system this month), but I'm still dealing with the recriminations of the time when I was in denial that it wasn't going to work to spend more than I earn.

The other pain I've had going is in my wrist. I realized the other day on my bike that I was gripping the handlebars tightly and when I went over a big bump, it really hurt my wrist. Fast forward a few days, I was mountain biking, and I suddenly had the realization that I had the death grip going again -- and that's when this song popped into my head:

Just hold on loosely but don't let her go

If you cling too tightly

You're gonna lose control

Your baby needs someone to believe in

And a whole lot of space to breathe in

I reckon Louise Hay agrees with my 38 Special-inspired advice -- here's what she suggests as an affirmation when you feel pain in your wrist:

I handle all my experiences with wisdom, with love, and with ease.

Hmmmm. Could use some work in that category. On a bike, off a bike, with my kids, with my lover. Maybe I'll just let 38 Special sing my theme song for a few days, with this chorus on repeat:

Just hold on loosely but don't let her go
If you cling too tightly
You're gonna lose control
Your baby needs someone to believe in
And a whole lot of space to breathe in

I think they're right -- my babies, all three of them, need those things, and so do I...

The One I Love

My babes are off on an international adventure with their Dad, and today in the car I heard this REM classic and was reminded of the time recently when it came on the radio with my kids in the car:

This one goes out to the one I love

"The ones I love are Mom and Dad," said a little voice from the backseat. My heart melted. And it's a good thing us mothers have those moments, because they keep us going during rougher moments, such as the time recently when my daughter informed me I was no longer allowed to call her Sweetie.

"Awwww. Can't I still call you that at home?" I pleaded.

"No, because then you'll still be in the habit and you'll slip up and call me that in public."

Dang. I guess I knew they were going to grow up, it just isn't always easy. On the other hand, many things have gotten easier since they've gotten older -- eating out, long car rides -- and sometimes their awareness really rescues me even during the toughest moments. A couple of weekends ago, I was feeling really frustrated with them and not great about my ability as a parent to get us back on track.

In the midst of the mayhem, I sat down on the couch with a thud and exclaimed: "I'm no good at this."

Both of my kids came rushing over, looks of concern on their faces, and said, in unison: "Yes you are, Mom. You're not the problem."

Priceless.

This one goes out to the (little) one(s) I love, wherever they are laying their heads tonight...

When Love Takes Over

To be totally up front, the inner jukebox has had "My boyfriend's back" by the Angels on repeat all weekend, but the lyrics just really don't work, so I'm overriding in favor of another recent gym staple with much more apt lyrics:

It's complicated, it always is
That's just the way it goes
Feels like I've waited so long for this
I wonder if it shows?

Head under water, now I can breathe
It never felt so good
'Cause I can feel it coming over me
I wouldn't stop it if I could

When love takes over, yeah
You know you can't deny
When love takes over, yeah
'Cause something's here tonight

Something's here tonight alright -- my rosy glow from the reunion over the past 24 hours since my mountain man came back home -- but he's not here tonight, on purpose. You see, even though we're exuberantly saying "game on!" again (he says he never said otherwise, but I did), we're trying to have our nights when we let love take over and have others where we do our own thing.

On a walk with a friend tonight, I was all proud of myself for embracing my love while maintaining some autonomy. "It's been one day!" she said, laughing.

It was a good reminder. I know I'm going to have my weak moments when I'm feeling more like this:

Oh, looking out for you to hold my hand
It feels like I could fall
Now love me right like I know you can
We could lose it all

Speaking of losing it all, I've spent a fair amount of time over the past few days trying to figure out how and why I got to the place where I felt I needed to shut him out. I definitely don't have all the answers, but I do think it may have something to do with my having had this feeling, especially when he was basically living with me and the winter was almost completely snowless:

I'll be loving all the time, it's true
'Cause I want to make it right with you

But I can't make it all ok for him, and he can't complete me or fulfill all my fantasies. It just isn't possible. So I am going to do my best to enjoy it for what it is -- an extremely powerful connection with an extremely compelling human being -- and see where it leads.

At least for today, that's going to be my way of letting love take over...