I Feel Free

For me, this is the ultimate feeling great tune, and today, I'm feeling pretty F*&%ing great. I took the luxury this morning of going to a two-hour yoga class before work, where we talked about and explored santosha, which is roughly translated as contentment.

As I left the studio on my bike, the combination of feeling the benefits of my practice, the positive vibes from those around me and the feeling of contentment I entered the studio with this morning, Eric Clapton just couldn't help but break into song inside my head:

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmhmmmhmmmhmmm I feel free...

Come Together

My kids and I stopped by our local funky pharmacy today (they specialize in costumes and wine) to celebrate the first day of school. With this song playing in the background:

...One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
Come together right now over me...

We shared an awesome moment trying on various versions of costume eyewear -- my faves were the exaggerated horn-rims with the rhinestones in the corners. Alas, my kids did not approve of the librarian look, so I didn't make a purchase.

Looks like the King of Pop took a stab at this one too -- I don't think I knew that, and if I did, I'd successfully forgotten until I found it on you tube tonight. Don't get me wrong, I love me some MJ, I just don't think his sound goes with this song...

That's What Friends Are For

If I'd been asked to guess two weeks ago what song I'd be picking as I put my old flame on a plane to go back to England, this would not have been my guess. And if someone had suggested it, I likely would've bristled at the word friend, believing that for my first love to be reduced to a friendship would in some way detract from something that's been such an important part of who I am as a woman.

But as it turns out, underneath all of it, and after all this time, a really close friendship is exactly what is left, and it's actually really beautiful. We had such a good time together. We laughed, we cried (ok, I cried), we talked, we swam, we canoed, we ate, we drank, we watched Mad Men, we played with my kids, we went out with (relatively) new friends and reminisced about old friends. And we held each other. Closely.

It isn't easy to let him go, but I know he's got his life to live and I've got mine. I'm really grateful for the time we had together, and along with Dionne, Stevie, Elton & Gladys, I'm singing him this song:

And I never thought I'd feel this way
And as far as I'm concerned
I'm glad I got the chance to say
That I do believe I love you

And if I should ever go away
Well, then close your eyes and try to feel
The way we do today
And then if you can remember

Keep smilin', keep shinin'
Knowin' you can always count on me, for sure
That's what friends are for
For good times and bad times
I'll be on your side forever more
That's what friends are for

Well, you came and opened me
And now there's so much more I see
And so by the way I thank you

Whoa, and then for the times when we're apart
Well, then close your eyes and know
These words are comin' from my heart
And then if you can remember...

Baby Can I Hold You Tonight

Good old ipod shuffle -- she always knows what to spin -- and yesterday when Tracy started to sing:

Sorry
Is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like sorry
Like sorry

Forgive me
Is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like forgive me
Forgive me

But you can say baby
Baby can I hold you tonight
Maybe if I'd told you the right words
At the right time
You'd be mine

I started to cry. Why, you ask? When just yesterday I was rocking the No Woman No Cry? Because this is one of the many songs tied up in those feelings I had for so long about wishing that things were different for me and my overseas visitor. So I allowed myself to shed a few tears on the bed while he dug through old photographs, and then I picked myself up off the bed and went about my morning.

At dinner last night, we talked about our hopes and dreams in terms of past and future loves. When he talked about words not coming easily and ways he protects himself, he was able to say "because that's just how I am." The old me, attached to a particular outcome, would've bristled and needed to try to change that about him. Instead I said "This is the great thing about us being friends now. I don't need to try to make you my man, I can just let you be who you are."

Ideally, I wouldn't ever have needed to change people to make them my man, but I really haven't dwelt in the realm of the ideal as far as love and romance are concerned. And I don't think that's uncommon -- a couple of nights ago we were out with a friend of mine and we all decided we've never had both feet in a relationship, and we're all pushing 40.

Here's to a new era, leaving behind the emotional and physical reticence, and wholeheartedly embracing love...

No Woman No Cry

En route to camp yesterday, we heard this powerful tune in the car -- the version by the Fugees.

And as we explored the camp grounds, which remained largely unchanged though a score of years had passed, we missed the friends who weren't with us and felt the weight of these words:

Good friends we have had
Oh good friends we've lost along the way
In this bright future
You can't forget your past
So dry your tears I say

It was great to be back there. Lying on the bed with my eyes closed in the counselor's room of my old cabin, I could feel the exhaustion and the exhilaration that I felt every day as the counselor of those amazing kids, some of whom I'm lucky enough to still have in my life.

Although I thought I might, I didn't feel sad during the visit. Perhaps having heard Bob's words of reassurance beforehand helped me just enjoy the trip down memory lane, rather than wanting to return or hold on to that time of my life.

No woman, no cry
No woman, no cry
Oh my Little sister, don't shed no

tears
No woman, no cry

Said, said, said I remember when we used to sit
In the government yard in Trenchtown
And then Georgie would make the fire light
Log wood burnin' through the night
Then we would cook corn meal porridge
Of which I'll share with you

My feet is my only carriage
So I've got to push on through
But while I'm gone...

Everything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/bob+marley/#share

tears
No woman, no cry

There's no question that the experience of working with those kids and meeting the people I met shaped the woman that I am today. My drive to fix inner-city schools is for those kids, who are now grown up and have kids of their own who need and deserve a great education.

Lying on the pier beside my summer camp flame from so long ago, I could feel that Bob is right:

Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright
Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright
Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright
Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright

Sometimes When We Touch

I'm awake in the wee hours again. This always seems to happen the night after I have one of those giant margaritas, which if they weren't so damn tasty I wouldn't so often be tempted to have one when my kids and I wander into our neighborhood salsaria for dinner after playing in the park. This time my kids and I had a dining companion, our very special guest from across the pond, someone I haven't had the pleasure of dining with in more years than the combined ages of my two kids.

And what a pleasure it is to have him, for all of us. For myself, I don't think I've laughed so hard in 18 years, and it feels really good. My kids are both really enjoying his humor and childlike approach to the world too.

After they went to bed, I went to find our visitor, who was stretched out on the couch, his bed for the night. As I laid there with him, head on his chest just like back in the day, I just tried to ride the waves of emotion, and they were some big waves... A part of me felt this profound relief, like I was finally home again. A part of me felt gratitude about this opportunity to reconnect both with him and with that younger woman I was then. A part of me felt profoundly sad as I felt myself transported back to the days at camp when we'd lie in each other's beds in our cabins, and so I let the tears come. I'm not even sure why flashing to that feels so hard, but perhaps I'll know more later in the week when we go back and visit our old camp.

Awake and contemplating all this, my inner dj spun Dan Hill's Sometimes When We Touch. It doesn't get any cheesier, I realize, and while some of the lyrics are really beautiful (at times...), some are hilariously bad (prize fighter?) -- here's a little of both for your reading pleasure:

Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth

And sometimes when we touch
The honesty's too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I wanna hold you til I die
Til we both break down and cry
I wanna hold you till the fear in me subsides

At times I'd like to break you
And drive you to your knees
At times I'd like to break through
And hold you endlessly

It's also kind of fun to listen to versions of this song by Tina Turner and Rod Stewart. Myself, I prefer the pure cheese of Dan Hill, and when I read about the "intrepretation" of the song on wikipedia, I liked him even more...

Alive

I remember singing this song, or maybe screaming would be a more accurate description, with my friend Mary at a Pearl Jam concert (similar to this one) many years ago:

"Is something wrong?" she said
Of course there is
"You're still alive," she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be?
Is that the question?
And if so...if so...who answers...who answers...?

I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Yeah I, ooh, I'm still alive
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

And now, here it is, some 15 years later, and I'm still alive, but she isn't. (It's a year to the day she died.) Something sure feels wrong about that, but it really wasn't up to me to decide.

So today, I'm going to be with my grief, but I'm also going to try to feel the gratitude that I am, indeed, still very much alive, and try to make the most of the time I've got left, however long that may be.

As for Mary, she remains very much alive in the hearts and the memories of all us lucky enough to love her...

All the Right Reasons

I'm not sure what all the right reasons are, but when this song came strumming out of my ipod this morning, I hoped at some point very soon, I would know...

Like a Bird on a Wire

This morning I got up to do yoga at a sunrise class on Lake Wingra. When I arrived, it was as if all the waterfowl in Madison decided to come to the same yoga class. It was incredible. The teacher remarked that she'd been teaching there for years and had never seen anything like it. Myself, up at 4am feeling and dealing with the sadness attached to losing Mary last summer (this time last year she had been in the hospital for a day and we were still hopeful), I knew they'd come to help mark her memory. As I set the intention for my practice, to have her strength fill my body (she was the strongest person I know), and watched the birds begin to disperse, I heard this somber tune by Leonard Cohen inside my head. The man's an amazing poet, so some lyrics are in order here:

Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.

If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

When I was up early this morning, I also read an email from my friend whose baby died after only one day -- she was cycling back through the grief -- maybe that' s another reason it was a Leonard Cohen morning:

Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.

But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee...

Alright my little chickadees, time to go live this day!

I Hope You Dance

I told you there were a lot of lovely Leos in my life. Today is also the birthday of a phenomenal human being that I, and all of the many other beautiful people in her orbit, feel so lucky to have as a friend. We've been through a lot together (she's about a year ahead of me in the whole learning-to-be-without-your-kids-and-get-back-out-there-again-in-the-wake-of-your-divorce process) and I rely on her wisdom and compassion to help guide me through many matters of the heart.

I chose this song in celebration of her because, if ever there was a person who was given the choice to sit it out or dance, she's chosen to dance and inspires the rest of us to do the same.

867-5309/Jenny

Tomorrow is the birthday of the man who, when I told him about my idea about picking a song for each day, suggested I start a blog. I'm grateful to him for that, and for some other things too, some of which were enumerated in those first few posts...

Anyway, I picked this song in his honor because he, like Jim Keller (who helped write this song and was part of Tommy Tutone), is a musician who was at one time on the road and now plays in bands on the side, for fun and because it feeds his spirit. The night we met -- also the night I gave him my digits -- he had a gig, and he seemed capable of anything that night. And I think he is, as are all of us, but we need to believe that we are and it's really easy to let the demands of being an adult in this culture drag us away from who we really are and why we're really here.

Although it started off with a bang for us, we weren't a love match. But I still wanted to dedicate this post to him in hopes that the coming year can be filled with more of what feeds his soul and makes him happy...

I Wanna Be Sedated

This morning at 8:34am, my phone rang. I just got a new phone, and for some reason a lot of the names associated with phone numbers are no longer linked. So I wasn't sure who it was until I heard a deep voice carefully articulate just one letter:

"K."

"Hey Chief!" I answered, as my daughter wondered aloud: "Who's Chief?"

Although it is a different explanation than the one I gave my daughter, he is my best friend from high school, the man who long ago used to like to say to me: "Que sera, sera" and of course when he shortened it, he only needed the one letter. He is the man who wrote, in High School Journalism, a dueling editorial opposite mine (the year was 1988):

Bush or Bust was his; Dukakis: The Right Choice, was mine. This was after he'd chased me around the Journalism classroom with a pair of scissors until he finally managed to cut a lock of my hair. What did he do with this lock of hair, you ask? He carried it around in his wallet, naturally.

We spent a lot of late nights together, listened to a lot of music, and had a lot of fun. He always hoped we'd be rocking more than a friendship, but alas, I never gave in to that feeling. In a funny twist of fate, we ended up having both of our babies within weeks of each other.

A few years ago he emailed me and told me he'd dreamt about the awesome eulogy I gave at his funeral. And though I'd be happy to say it all then, if he goes before I do, I can just as easily say it now: I feel so fortunate to have the most loyal, loving, hilarious person from my high school, or any high school, for that matter, as my friend for all these years.

Here's just one of the tunes we enjoyed on all those late night drives -- we were partial to punk in those days -- and when the Ramones came on the radio this afternoon, I knew this had to be my pick.

We did want to be sedated, and we did a lot of self-sedating, in those days.

Hanx for the memories, Chief!

My Life Would Suck Without You

It's Friday, and today I got to do my favorite Friday fitness routine. It starts with a bike ride to the Capitol Square, which is about 3 miles, and since I'm usually running late, I have to ride quite fast. Next comes Functional Fitness with Liz, who is just that rare kind of person that you want to have pushing you to get fit. She's awesome. This song came on during a particularly fatiguing portion of the class, and it really got me going again, so if it isn't in your workout playlist, I highly recommend you add this tune.

Right after Functional Fitness is Yoga with Stephanie, who is just the kind of person you want guiding you inward. Having the two classes back-to-back is the perfect combo of high-energy and tuning into the voice within.

And although I was happy to have Kelly belting out her song during the high energy portion of the workout, I'm not tempted to write any of the lyrics or analyze them here. Some songs move you one way, and some move you in a different way. It's all good.

Hurt

I try to make some sort of self-care appointment every week. Usually some kind of bodywork, like acupuncture, or massage, or chiropractic -- and my latest discovery is zero balancing. I don't really understand it, but I know I feel more solidly in my body afterward, in a really good way. It is hard to explain what it is -- basically he moves my body around and pushes in certain places to get me into better alignment. Sometimes it really hurts -- not super painful -- but just hurts like it is working. Today it wasn't hurting, so I started worrying that it wasn't working, and I told the practitioner what I was feeling. I told him I sometimes feel the same way at acupuncture if there aren't a lot of needles that hurt going in. He said, get this: it doesn't have to hurt to work. Words to live by.

This song, originally written by Trent Reznor and performed by Nine Inch Nails but also famously and fabulously covered by the man in black, is all about the need to hurt. Ourselves. Others.

And it's a good one to listen to when you're feeling that way. But I'm also going to try to remember that it doesn't have to hurt to work. That pain is not the only thing that's real. Not by a long shot.

Amongst the Waves

Oh Eddie. You must be the male version of Janis. This morning it was your voice I heard immediately after doing a forgiveness meditation. It was the perfect voice, and these lyrics, the perfect words:

What used to be a house of cards
Has turned into a reservoir
Save the tears that were waterfalling
Let's go swim tonight, darlin'

And once outside the undertow
Just you and me and nothin' more
If not for love I would be drowning
I've seen it work both ways

But I am up
Riding high amongst the waves
I can feel like I
Have a soul that has been saved
I can feel like I've
Put away my early grave
I gotta say it now
Better now than too late

Now let Eddie's voice wash over you by checking out the video of Pearl Jam rocking this one in Seattle last year.

And to you, darlin', who will be swimming alongside me, outside the undertow, very, very soon:

Don't forget your goggles.

It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday

As much as I don't want to fixate on sadness and death, I guess it's what's up for me right now so I might as well let the music speak what it is here to say. Today I just keep hearing this beauty by Boyz II Men:

How do I say goodbye to what we had?
The good times that made us laugh
Outweigh the bad.

I thought we'd get to see forever
But forever's gone away
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday...

I'm guessing there are a lot of reasons this one is coming up for me today. As I prepare for my reunion with my summer camp flame, memories of that time are surfacing. The first time I heard this song was at a funeral for one of the kids from camp. He drowned (not while at camp), and a few of us went to his funeral in Chicago's inner-city. It was heartbreaking. And beautiful. I was one of four white people there, and I learned a lot that day about grief and what it looks like when it's allowed to come out unrestrained. It's a bit scary, like a big storm, and similarly refreshing at the same time. People were yelling at the body (the casket was open even though he'd drowned and looked much different from the 13-year old kid I'd known), asking why he had to leave, telling him to wake up, touching him, and wailing. Afterward, we just kept listening to this song over and over again. The other kids from camp told me God had a reason for taking him that day, and I saw that they really believed that and were comforted by it. I could only feel the loss.

Of course, my Uncle's death is on the radar too and part of the reason for the selection.

Also, as I mentioned in a previous post, August 19 is the anniversary of my friend's death, and I seem to have lost a couple of other friends from the same era (college) along with her. That's hard to accept, but talking with my friend last night who two years ago had a baby who lived for only one day, I understood that grief changes people. And there's not much you can do about that except try not to need things to be other than they are, and do what this song suggests:

And I'll take with me the memories
To be my sunshine after the rain
It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday...

Oh, and check out these dudes from South Korea harmonizing this tune. As far as I can tell, nothing is lost in translation. I guess grief really is universal.

A Woman Left Lonely

I love Janis Joplin.

I was feeling uneasy this evening, and so I turned to one of my favorite tonics -- the non-alcoholic variety given my Uncle's passing -- guided meditation. I was feeling pretty serene after listening to 30-minutes of "Mind Like Sky" when itunes shuffled straight to this number -- one of Janis's beautiful, quieter tunes.

And although I'm not there at the moment, I can say from personal experience that she speaks the truth when she says:

A woman left lonely will soon grow tired of waiting,
She'll do crazy things, yeah, on lonely occasions...

She's another one that we lost to the desire to lose herself -- thank goodness she left behind so much amazing music and so many great pics of her wearing her crazy shades!

Lose Yourself

This morning I learned that my 58 year old Uncle, my Mom's little brother, had drunk himself to death. We knew this would eventually happen, but hearing that booze had claimed his life, I feel a lot of really heavy, hard things. 

I feel angry about alcoholism and the destruction it was wreaked on my family and so many others. I feel sad about the darkness that my Uncle lived with, that no one could take away for him, and that he didn't have the strength to fight -- only to numb. 

And I feel, more than ever, and this is where Eminem comes in, that we all have one shot on this Earth in this body, and we better never let it go...

Look

If you had

One shot

Or one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted

In one moment

Would you capture it

Or just let it slip?

Yo

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'

What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out

He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now

The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow

Snap back to reality, oh there goes gravity

Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked

He's so mad, but he won't give up that easy? No

He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes

It don't matter, he's dope, he knows that, but he's broke

He's so stagnant, he knows, when he goes back to this mobile home, that's when it's

Back to the lab again, yo, this whole rhapsody

Better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

You own it, you better never let it go

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime

Maybe I'm Amazed

Yesterday I had one of those days with my kids that was just filled with one moment after another to savor and take note of what amazing human beings they've turned out to be. We went to visit my friend's twin daughters -- now 8 months old -- and were amazed at how much they've grown. I also loved seeing how into them both of my kids were -- and as I picked up my 7-year old I was amazed that she could really be the same child who was once my chubby baby.

My friend also remarked about how much my son has changed in the last couple of years -- he really is a different kid and I believe it is largely because he's no longer internalizing the tension that was so often present when his father and I were still married. I'm amazed that it's almost two years since I've been the master of my own domain, and how wonderful it feels to be living with so much more peace.

Watching my kids walk around the spice store together trying to decide what to get to spice the sushi-grade salmon that was going to be our dinner that night, I heard this song.

And today as my daughter was rubbing my arm to help me go to sleep when I wanted a 20 minute nap, I again heard (this time internally):

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time...

Put Your Records On

Summer has officially begun. I'm done with my 4-month project, and had the day off work today to hang with my kids. We hooked up the hose, got out the slip n' slide, biked to the cemetery to do grave rubbings (which would've been considerably more pleasant without the mosquitoes), and then biked to Pasqual's (our local southwestern restaurant) for dinner. This was our background music as we biked home:

Girl, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down

You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow...

Yes. I. Am.

And I'm not actually suggesting that you listen to it, but I feel compelled to mention, with my 7-year old by my side, that the Chipettes covered this song in Alvin and the Chipmunks: the Squeakquel.

Mountains of Things

This morning my ipod fired this one up -- and it seemed somewhat in keeping with the theme from yesterday -- that it isn't stuff that matters. It's really easy to get swept up in thinking that it is.

I also chose this song today because I am striving for a bit more balance, as I mark my days, both with music and with my thoughts and actions. And while lamenting the loss of love, being in love, or longing for love is really important, and really big, it isn't the only reason I'm here, and it isn't the only thing I care about. I'm also here to help, as Tracy so eloquently puts it, "those whose sole misfortune is having mountains of nothing at birth."

Here's a couple of versions of this powerful number on youtube -- they both have their pluses and minuses. I like this live version because you can really get a sense of her quiet strength, dignity and earnestness. But it's kind of hard to hear her sing. I like this version because you can really hear her belt it out. I also like that in the comments section for this version, someone says that they think the two greatest debut albums of all time are Tracy Chapman's and Guns 'n Roses Appetite for Destruction. I have to agree that they are both pretty damn great, and I love that as human beings, we have the luxury of grouping two beings like Tracy and Axl together and enjoying both for who they are and what they each bring.

Now if we can just figure out how to do that as a society overall, and not just with entertainers and athletes...

The House Where Nobody Lives

This song almost speaks for itself. It's so incredibly powerful to listen to it, particularly if you happen to be either living in or healing from a situation in which your home is (or was) not a place where you can find peace because the love that once filled it has been replaced with stuff, tension, fear, irritation, and conversations revolving around logistics. As Tom so eloquently puts it:

Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone's heart break
Or did someone do somebody wrong?

I think the questions he poses in that verse are worth pondering, but in the end, I don't know if answering them helps at all with moving on. I know that when I moved out of my marital house and bought my own, much smaller house almost two years ago, I'd listen to that part and cry. But it was this part of the song that really empowered me and helped me start to look ahead:

I have all of life's treasures
And they are fine and they are good
They remind me that houses
Are just made of wood
What makes a house grand
Ain't the roof or the doors
If there's love in a house
It's a palace for sure
Without love...
It ain't nothin but a house
A house where nobody lives

There's love in my house again now. Self-love, love for my kids, love for my new Boogie-Nights orange leather loveseat. It's a palace for sure. And there's room in that palace for more laughter & dreams of the romantic variety...

I Want to Go Back

Today I had an email exchange with the man I met at the wedding that I mentioned in yesterday's post. He told me that our conversation about resisting the urge to rewrite history had been helpful to him. As I told him in my reply -- I recognized it in him because I am so adept at it myself. He said he thought he had indulged in it because it is easier to go back and question whether things really were the way they felt at the time than to be with the feelings he had now or deal with the uncertainty involved in moving forward. I agreed, and related this story to him:

Recently, I had the rear derailer on my bike replaced, which (for a reason that I don't fully understand) means that when I shift with my right hand now, it works in the opposite direction than it did before. I was having a lot of trouble adjusting to that -- and was sick of being on a big hill and accidentally making it harder rather than easier to pedal. So I came up with a phrase that I could quickly repeat and know which direction to turn it, which is "forward is harder." After I worked with that mantra for a few days on my bike commute, I started to reconsider whether I really want to be reinforcing that notion. But then I just decided that I might as well, because it IS harder, there's no two ways about it.

As I was pondering this, none other than Eddie Money started singing in my ear:

I was listening to the radio
I heard a song reminding me of long ago
Back then I thought that things were never gonna change
It used to be that I never had to feel the pain
I know now that things will never be the same

I wanna go back
And do it all over again
But I can't go back I know
I wanna go back
Cause I'm feeling so much older
But I can't go back I know

Wise man, that Eddie Money. It's funny, because I haven't heard or thought of this song in years, and I think the last time I did hear it, I didn't really relate to it. I sure do now.

I also know now that it's often the hardest challenges that yield the greatest rewards. So as hard as it is to do sometimes, I'm going to try to stay in this moment, resisting the urge to want to go back, pressing onward instead...

Born Again

Yesterday I went to the wedding of some friends. It was outside, it was a gorgeous day, she was beautiful, he was beautiful, the flowers were beautiful, it was out in the country, the dog was the ring bearer -- it was awesome.

I think it was the first wedding I've been to since my own marriage ended, and I was really grateful I'd had a year and change to go through my own grieving process so I could properly bear witness to my friends' union. What a beautiful thing to behold. And I think Sally (in When Harry Met Sally) was right - getting married is such an optimistic thing to do.

Late in the evening, I talked to a friend of the groom whose own divorce was really fresh. I think he's still in the shock phase: he remarked that they'd gotten married relatively late and it had seemed like a safe bet. I have two things to say about that -- and they may seem contradictory -- but bear with me. One, there is no such thing as a safe bet -- a bet always involves risk and uncertainty -- which is why it is related to the fact that getting married requires optimism. And two, it was a safe bet, at the time, which is why they'd gotten married. I don't think it is productive, 15 years later, to question whether it was the right decision then -- it was the decision, so it was the right one.

Besides, divorce is really just one big fat invitation to grow as a human being. While it is true that we also grow within a marriage, the growth that comes from reclaiming the parts of yourself that were lost in the union, AND that you want back (some of it needed to go), is pretty phenomenal. It's also really hard work.

By now you might be starting to ask yourself -- where is she going with this? Why the song Born Again? Was that the newlyweds' song? Nope. And while I do think, if you can look past the cheese factor, it is a beautiful expression of the kind of love that causes people to take the marital plunge, that's not why I picked it.

It came to me yesterday as the song to celebrate the 40th birthday of a friend I met -- at a dance at our kids' school-- when I was in the really raw stage of my split. I'd moved out a short time before, and every school event was a painful reminder of the family we weren't. There were times when telling people about it was more painful than being alone with it, but that wasn't the case with this friend. And ever since that day, she's been bringing me her softness, sweetness and kindness, teaching me how it feels to be loved when it is given freely, abundantly -- a feeling that isn't as familiar to me as I might sometimes wish it was. Experiencing it feels a bit like being born again sometimes. In a good way.

I also think this was the song that came to me because I remember it playing in the background during those dancing scenes of Days of Our Lives, and this friend is a dancer. Remember those scenes? As a college student, I remember feeling like what was transpiring between those dancers was not available for people like me. And it wasn't, at the time.

But there's more in store for me in this lifetime, of that I'm sure. And even though there was no small part of me, as I tucked myself into my own bed after the wedding last night, that longed for the "Lying safe within your arms, I'm born again" that Billy & Syreeta are singing about, I know those arms will find me when the time is right.