Change is Gonna Come

Tina Turner was a significant presence in my life when I was a party girl back in the day, and I was reflecting on how far we've both come when my Reiki practitioner put on a CD of her chanting at our last session. Tina has done interviews where she talks about what a huge difference becoming a Buddhist made in her life.

She talks in the interview about changing your life, which is powerful, but not nearly as powerful, in my opinion, as listening to her cover of this amazing Sam Cooke song:

I was born by the river in a little tent
And just like that river I've been running ever since
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will

It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die
Cos I don't know what's out there beyond the sky
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will

I go to the movie
And I go downtown
somebody keep telling me don't hang around
It's been along time coming
But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will

Then I go to my brother
And I say brother help me please
But he winds up knockin' me
Back down on my knees

There were times when I thought I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gone come, oh yes it will

Yep, changing is H-A-R-D. But love helps. It's an incentive, it's a support, it's a resting place, it's the payoff that makes all the hard work worthwhile.

Turns out, this song has been covered by a gazillion people, and each cover is at least as beautiful as the last, from Al Green to Aretha Franklin (looking super young and super cute!) to Otis Redding to Beyonce to Billy Preston to Seal (this one might just be my favorite although it is super hard to choose) to Lauryn Hill.

Pain in My Heart

I love Otis Redding, and about a week ago, my ipod shuffled onto this song. It's been with me ever since:

Pain in my heart
Is treating me cold
Where can my baby be?
Lord, no one knows

Pain in my heart
Just won't let me sleep
Where can my baby be?
Lord, where can she be?

And now the days has begin to get tough
Said, I want you to come back
Come back, come back, baby
I had enough, oh

A little pain in my heart
Just won't let me be
Wake up restless nights
Lord and I can't even sleep

I'm with Otis -- this lack of sleep business is one of the worst parts of what I'm going through right now.

Ever since I heard this song the other day, I've been tasking myself: what, exactly, is this pain in my heart? I've tried to explain it, to myself, to my man, to my friends, to my children, to my mom, but none of the explanations have really been satisfactory.

Of course it's human nature to not want to hurt:

Yeah
Stop this little pain in my heart

And certainly, as I've expressed multiple times in this space, I've got this desire going on, just like Otis:

And now the days has begin to get rough
Said I want you to love me
Love me, love me, baby
Till I get enough, oh

But if what my boyfriend says is true, that he does loves me, wicked, then maybe this pain in my heart is just here to teach me something. To soften me. To make me more tolerant, more compassionate, more loving. To help me continue to learn to trust in love and goodness, rather than giving in to fear and lack. To learn that if  I am seeking to "get enough" by being loved by another human being, I'll always come up short. I'll always be disappointed.

Because the feeling that one has enough comes from a place inside -- it's not something that can be taken in from the outside. I'll be the first to admit that it can be confusing when love from the outside comes in such an amazing package, as it does with my man. You just want to hold on to it. You want to hold on really tight, to minimize the possibility that you'll lose it, and to maximize those incredible feelings that come when such a bundle of goodness loves you up. But if I learned anything in my marriage, it is that we human beings need to feel that we have some space, even or especially in love, so that we can continue to evolve into the best possible form of ourselves, because that's how we're able to best serve the world.

And so I'm working on making friends with this...

Pain in my heart
Little pain in my heart

...because I reckon it's really just the pain we all have as humans. Separation in necessary and natural sometimes, and the more we can just let it be there, and trust that the love we put out into the world always comes back, the more we can rest our weary heads and find peace.

I've Got Dreams to Remember

Ipod shuffle played this plaintive tune yesterday:

I've got dreams
Dreams to remember
I've got dreams
Dreams to remember
Honey I saw you there last night
Another man's arms holding you tight
Nobody knows what I feeled inside
All I know, I walked away and cried
I got dreams, dreams to remember
Listen to me

I'm listening, Otis -- I love listening to you and what you feeled.

When I first heard this song, I thought the dreams he was singing about were the dreams he had for this relationship, and maybe they are in part, but mostly I think he's talking about dreams where he sees a replay of watching his woman cheating on him. Ouch. But it's still not enough to make him leave:

Dreams to remember
I still want you to stay
I still love you anyway
I still don't want you to ever leave
Girl, you just satisfy me! [Ooh-Wee!]

But his subconscious won't let him rest in her arms the way he did before:

I've got dreams
Dreams, bad dreams
Dreams, rough dreams
To remember
Don't make me suffer
Dreams, bad dreams
Dreams, rough dreams
To remember

I started having very vivid dreams when I was in a painful spot a number of years ago, and for a long time, I didn't know what to do with them. But they didn't go away, and slowly, I started to be willing to listen to the message. These days, I have lots of dreams, and I feel more willing to pay attention to what they are telling me, but at the moment, I'm not getting any clear messages.

And so I just try to be where I am: a place where the dreams I remember most strongly are of a powerful, beautiful connection to a powerful, beautiful man...

Try a Little Tenderness

Yesterday I was riding my bike down the street when a woman opened her car door and knocked me right on my ass. She felt really awful about it -- and I told her that I could just have easily been on the other end of an accident like that -- it isn't as if I've never parked my car and opened the door without thoroughly checking to be sure that no bicyclists were about to sail past.

It was scary, though, and as is the case with all accidents, it made me more appreciative of just how easily I glide through life most of the time, blissfully unaware of all of the potential peril that could befall me and has befallen others. I was grateful that the worst of it, for me, is multiple trips to the chiropractor, a sore hip/butt, and a few stiff joints.

It also made me want to reach out for the comfort of loved ones. Which I did, and it helped. This tune came to me today too, and though for a moment I was in danger of heading straight into that familiar feeling of what's missing, I stopped myself, I felt the tenderness all around me, and I vowed to continue to be tender with myself.

Because while I wouldn't count myself out of this group of girls about which Otis sings:

You won't regret it, no no

Some girls they don't forget it

Love is their only happiness, yeah

But it's all so easy

All you gotta do is try, try a little tenderness, yeah

I also know that a lover is not the only source of love available to me. Not by a long shot.

Here's an awesome video of Otis performing this song live in 1967, which is, I believe, the year that a man who has the tenderness (for others) piece down took his first steps. A precursor to flight? I reckon that's exactly where all those baby steps are headed...