Anne Lamott says the two best prayers she knows are "help me, help me, help me" and "thank you, thank you, thank you"... There is another prayer (that may be akin to the cry for help) that seems to pour from me more than either of these two right now: "I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry". It is a recurring thought this past year, one that comes from my heart almost unconsciously. I'm sorry. perhaps it precedes "help me". The piano resonates throughout the theater, and resonates with my thoughts, my emotions. Mea Culpa, I feel lost...
Part of me, you are a part of me I never want to lose
Hard for me, this is too hard for me, maybe I can't get through
The loss of a close friend, their presence...that sense of home, of safety, comfort, groundedness, of shared moments and the hope of moments yet to share... I recall all the times I loved poorly, or not at all, the times I took them for granted (which is the dark side of trust), the times I lost my patience or temper, the times I judged and criticized and condemned...and I'm sorry...
Broken down, we're all so broken down...
I thought my life would be different by now. The place I find myself, the place I find I've lost myself... the wasting of time and the burying of talents I let atrophy, the apathy, the despair, the isolation, the near loss of hope. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't turn out to be what you were hoping for, I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry there isn't more time to get things more right. I'm sorry...
Listening, you're always listening, I don't know what to say
I could sit in a room with those I love and care about the most, knowing that our time is slipping away, that one day they will no longer be here, but right now, in this moment, they are here, I have this chance to be here, with them, right now, and I find I don't have much to say. I'm sorry I'm not better at this, I'm sorry I don't know how to make the most of these moments, I can't conceive how sorry I will be when you are gone...
What will I miss the most? Pray that I'm haunted by your ghost
I meet people here who are some of the nicest and friendliest I've known, people who have been through some hard shit in their lives and maybe have a weariness that could use kindness instead of criticism or harshness. People who have only been abstract names on a screen before now, people whose personality had been mostly a projection of my own lack of imagination, and after I meet them, and discover who they really are, I'm sorry for any time I've been more concerned with being "right" than with being kind. I'm sorry for the irritation my argumentative nature has stirred up in the past. meanness in the name of humor...judgement for the sake of Ego...and I wish I could take some of those words back. I didn't know them or the struggles they endure. and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lost you. I'm sorry for the wall I helped build between us, before we even had a chance to begin...
I know much of this is just something akin to self-pity, much of it is an unnecessary beating myself up for things that are out of my control. Life happens, and people make their choices because of themselves, and their world doesn't revolve around reacting to me. But still...I need grace, and mercy, and sometimes I practice these things, and sometimes I drain them from others. Sometimes I just feel lost...
These thoughts run through my mind as Karin sings "Lost", one of my favourite songs from Ohio.
"afraid that I'm anything but fine...
Lord, I feel so alone now...Lord, I feel so lost..."
...except these aren't the words to the song. There isn't even a song called "Lost". All day I'm telling people "Lost" was one of my favourite songs that they played, and they give me a blank look. Like they don't know what I'm talking about. Because I don't. The song is called "Professional Daydreamer", and though it is one of my favourite songs from Ohio, I haven't listened to that CD in years and so forgot the name (and apparantly the lyrics). Perhaps it is the mark of good art that we can hear in a song what it is we need to hear. Perhaps it is simply the mark of Karin's vague annunciation, coupled with my dark and depressive imagination, looking for darkness in the broadest daylight...
The actual words to the chorus, when I find them out, make me think that there is a symbolic replacing of the old for the new happening here. The real lyrics are something of a response to my imagined lines. It is probably about as close as I'm going to come to a God speaking to me in an audible voice...
"Alright, it's alright now... Alright, it's alright..."
3 comments:
Hi Brook
Your post is an important reminder as we head into lent. We need to say Sorry much more often.
I was in your neck of the woods today and tried to call. We were meeting with our tax preparer in Shelby Township.
Of course I had to make a stop at Rock-a-billy's and then Street Corner Music.
We got to do that day of book and record shopping soon. Actually I probably don't need to shop for anything, but I would love to go looking.
Hope all is well.
Bill
i can't find the words that i wish for. no response that would do justice...
but i am grateful to have witnessed the deep witness these lines embody. they are a gift.
so, thank you.
LB
Hi Brook! I haven't been to your blogspot in a while. I feel like a shallow ass reading you and Andy's blogs. ha :) You are always reading and introspective. I just have my head in my school books or hand in my garden in my yard. I miss the old days when I would read and wonder down the park by Clinton River with my poetry books in hand. ha! I was a very sappy romantic back then. hee When are you coming down here?! The trees are already blooming and daffodils are full grown and my boots are filled with mud from working in the yard. . . . :)
marianne
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