I love music. Actually, it goes deeper than that. I need music. Without it, I would not have survived the countless times in my life when survival was in question. Before I became a writer (and I don’t mean that in the professional sense, but more in the, “I am a girl” fact of life sense), music was how I gave my feelings a voice, a way out of my chaotic self. If I couldn’t say I was in love, I would walk around singing love songs. When I couldn’t find my own words, I always knew I could borrow someone else’s. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but all of my post titles are lyrics. See, I still do it. Music is my light in my darkness, a textured map to see me through, even when I don’t know where I’m going.
On days like today (or more accurately, like the last five months), I almost always turn to David Wilcox. The album “Big Horizon” has saved me more than once, particularly the songs “Show The Way,” “Farthest Shore,” and “Hold It Up To The Light.” David’s personal spirituality comes through in his lyrics, song after song, and in turn has become my own sense of spirituality. His songs of faith, hope, love, loss, anger, and most importantly, letting go…it’s like having a secret friend whispering to me that I’ll be okay eventually.
Today, I once again turned to David, but not to “Big Horizon.” Instead, for the first time, I decided to give a listen to his first album, “The Nightshift Watchman.” It’s been sitting there at the bottom of the scrolling albums, waiting for a moment when it would be called into play. when the opening strains of the song “The Nightshift Watchman” began, I felt a loosening in my chest. It’s not because of any particular lyric, as the song is actually about a guy working in a missile silo, but more because the guitar strings being plucked are like a pick chipping away at my frozen heart. The album played, the tears finally began a therapeutic flow, and the hurting eased. I know that while my life won’t turn out how I’d hoped it would, it does go on.
Now I have to come to terms with the changes that will be made. Unfortunately, motherhood doesn’t follow the script in my head, so I must learn to face the disappointments of my relationship (or lack thereof) with my daughter. Meanwhile, I will continue to have faith that the world circles round, and find comfort that there are people who love me. There is also some comfort in knowing there are people whom she loves, even if I am not one of them.
“When your love grows cold and your heart grows dark, and the blame seems to fall on you, look how seasons must change and don’t think it so strange that your love goes in circles too.”