Make me a pallet on your floor

Today is the anniversary of the birth of someone who has been really important to my post-divorce growth. Our relationship was intense, flawed, beautiful, lonely and amazing all at the same time. One of the many things we shared during the time we spent together was music. It was tough to pick one song, because there were so many, but this one won for three reasons: 1) he introduced me to Gillian Welch (and she's now a fave), 2) being at his house was such a powerful experience and 3) in many ways these lyrics (particularly with my minor alteration) describe what he gave me:

Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down a pallet soft and low
When I'm broke(n) and I've got nowhere to go

It's hard to even put words to the level of pain I felt both in being alone after my divorce and equally, in being with someone new. His making me down a pallet on his floor (ok it was an exercise mat -- but close enough!), on his bed, on his butcher block counter -- supported me, held me, renewed me in ways for which I will always be grateful. The last time I was at his house, while he slept, I curled up in the fetal position on the butcher block counter and cried. I think I knew I'd never be back there, at least not in the same way.

This haunting song just may transport you to a time when you felt something akin to this. And in my opinion, the cover by Gillian Welch is far superior to the original by Doc Watson.

Forever Young

I went to the graduation ceremony of my kids' school today, which is always a great reminder of why we send our kids to Wingra school. At this school, teachers have the luxury of really recognizing and reinforcing each child. With no scripted curriculum and no standardized tests, teachers can focus on allowing the child to blossom and following the kids' lead in terms of what they want to learn about. Who knows if they'll really be prepared for high school or college, but they are held, and that counts for a lot.

Anyway, at the ceremony the head of school read the words to the Bob Dylan song Forever Young. My god that man is a poet. It confounds me that he dismissed people's claims that he was the voice of a generation. I wish I could have these words playing in my head every day as a super long mantra:

May god bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars
and climb on every rung
and may you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always see the truth
And see the light surrounding you

May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
And may you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a firm foundation
When the winds a changin' shift

May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
and may you stay forever young

There are a lot of great stanzas there, but I think my favorite might be "May you always do for others and let others do for you." Now that I'm exploring a new relationship, I've been thinking a lot lately about giving and receiving, and how much harder it is to receive. One of the wisest women in my life said that's because we control what we give, but we give up some control when we decide to make ourselves vulnerable to receive. Ah, the control issue rears its enormous head once again...

I can't find a recording of the poet himself singing the original, but do not despair: this is quite possibly the most covered song ever -- including versions from Neil Young and the Grateful Dead, Johnny Cash, Joan Baez, and Eddie Vedder. Which is your favorite cover? I'm once again weak in the knees listening to the voice of that last one!

Man in the Mirror

Last night I took a step toward realizing my dream of bringing yoga to teachers in schools where, for various reasons, teachers are stressed and not always open and receptive to all of their students. Teaching is such an incredibly difficult job, and so incredibly important -- the connections with kids that teachers have the opportunity to make every single day are critical to the students' developing sense of self. My belief is that offering yoga in schools will reduce teacher stress and increase their openness and receptivity to all students. Part of this path involves asking teachers to start with the (wo)man in the mirror and examine long held assumptions of which they may not even be aware. These beliefs, though often subconscious, can adversely affect teachers' ability to connect with students and the ability of students to connect with the material they are intended to learn. Often there are issues of racial bias that need to be uncovered, examined, and released, making room for an affirmation that we are all one.

I presented my idea at a school board meeting last night. Another group also made a presentation, and used this song as their final inspiring message. I've always loved this song, but I've never thought about how interesting Michael Jackson is as the carrier of this message -- a man whose reflection in the mirror got less and less black over the course of his life. I think there's a difference between changing your ways and changing your appearance, and I think the changing of his appearance is really about a lack of self-acceptance and about his (real or perceived) belief that somehow having lighter skin was preferable. I have no doubt that growing up, he received that message repeatedly and felt he had the power to change it. Sadly, in the end, after sharing so many amazing aspects of himself with the world, he seemed to leave it almost as a result of never having come to terms with the man in the mirror.

Here's Michael singing Man in the Mirror in 1988, after he'd pretty significantly cosmetically altered the man in the mirror. In my own life, practicing yoga with specific attention paid to cultivating awareness, acceptance and non-judgment has helped me more fully appreciate my own reflection, and coming from that place, I can more easily see the beauty in others. This is the power of yoga that I hope to bring to teachers.

At Last

This amazing song was the one that my ex and I used, 12 years ago today, to mark our wedding day. Listening to it now, and hearing these words:

"At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song"

I recognize that my love did come along, and we shared a lot of love and created two beautiful children together before things went sour.

And I recognize that although my lonely days are not over, life is indeed like a song. Today's song was once, for me, a super romantic my-heart-is-filled-with-love song, and now it's a bittersweet and heartbreaking song, but I know that tomorrow there'll be another song, or a different spin on an old one.

You can listen here to Etta belt out the original, or you can watch the incredible beauty Beyonce doing a cover. Enjoy!

Throw Your Arms Around Me

Is that so much to ask?

I don't think it is.

Should I have to ask?

I don't think I should, and I don't want to.

I heard this song earlier today (it's on a disc of old faves that my friend made from our days in Oz).

This is how I want a romance to feel, except for the "and we may never meet again" part. I refuse to believe that is essential to the equation. I'm banking on finding the throw your arms around me feeling that lasts...

I want it to last the way my crush on Eddie Vedder has -- which is still going strong after 20 years (considerably more steadfast than my first marriage, the would-be 12th anniversary of which is tomorrow, but we didn't quite make it to 11. I say first because I know there will be another one, not because I've been married more than once).

Anyway, I don't think I ever knew that Eddie covered this song -- oh the treasures one can find on youtube!

Paradise City

I remember this song from when I was in high school -- we used to listen to G N'R constantly on long bus rides to away track meets. Some of the guys on the team even had their own Medfordized version of the lyrics (original lyrics in parentheses):

Take me down to the Paradise City where the grass is (green) free and the girls are (pretty) come on!

The Medford boys were singing about pot and easy women - which is one of the reasons it still makes me smile to hear this song, as we did sitting in J.'s car after enjoying an evening in our own paradise city -- Madison in the summertime at the Terrace. At one point we looked out at the water with all the boats and it was so beautiful it didn't even look real -- it looked like the set of a movie. But it was real, and for me, it's soaking up these summer nights that makes it possible to get through the long winter. There's a lot of the year where I wouldn't call Madison the Paradise City, but this time of year, it's so incredible it doesn't feel like a stretch to think it's exactly what makes Axl bang his long red locks: Take. Me. Home.

Here's Axl in all his glory.

I Want You

Ah, dating in the age of the text. For me, it can be both a disappointing (no voice or touch) way to connect and totally titillating, and after some of the former variety earlier in the week, we had some of the latter last night. Which was followed by some satisfying in-person interaction, and although we didn't have the good fortune of Bob crooning in the background last night, this morning as I was thinking about a song to sum up the parts of yesterday we shared, I could find none better than Bob Dylan's "I want you." Maybe I'm just in classic rock mode at the moment, but as sexed up as some of the rap songs we did hear were, they just don't capture the feeling in the same way.

Here's a link to a clip from the movie I'm not there -- a sexy scene in which the beautiful Heath Ledger is playing Bob Dylan and you can hear Bob singing in the background.