My Life is Pretty Normal

I think I’m going to begin making more conscientious note of songs that support grandiosity in the absurd hope and simple, beautiful fact that something really is happening. (something is always happening, everywhere…)

“When we all finally washed ashore
It was clear there was no one else around
We declared a national holiday
A chance to build it from the ground
So far away from everyone
and everything starts today
Keep it together
Can we keep it together
We’re singing a new song now
and everything starts today
Can we rise?  Can we get along all right?
Can we miss the storm that sucked the whole world in?
And the boats went out at night
and the choppers in the sky
They searched but they could find no trace of us
So far away from everyone
and everything starts today
Keep it together
Can we keep it together
We’re singing a new song now
and everything starts today
The thunder struck, the clouds appeared
Our fearless crew was not prepared
and pretty soon the boats came for us
half a million strong
We gathered arms, we fired shells
We build a wall around ourselves
and pretty soon the spirit was a lot like
what it used to be back home
So far away from everyone
and everything starts today
Keep it together
Can we keep it together
We’re singing a new song now
and everything starts today”

(Wouldn’t that be lovely? If everything started today. Guess what? It does. Every single day is today.)

Can you imagine what it might be like to hear a song such as that when one is awash in evidence that the world is full of magic and that somehow you figured it out and the sense that it really might be as huge as it feels?

…then to think about how all the songs that play really do seem to be telling a story, because that’s how radio play works nowadays…cataloged by genome and theme, style and nuance…spun by algorithm.  It’s not too hard to figure out.

“Is someone trying to tell me something?”

“What’s going on here?”

The thought is inevitable. It is a natural state of human inquiry, curiosity, amazement, experiments in belief…it is very human.

Sometime ago, probably years ago, driving through some desert, scanning the radio late at night, I realized how much I love the chance of song and how music understood what I needed to hear far more than any human ever had.

I am able to view these thematic correlations objectively…but these songs that play, they do inspire stories in the mind of a woman who has been daydreaming about the fate of the world for a very long time.  Fortunately, I’ve learned to keep the stories in balance with one another, the real, the hyperreal, the surreal, the dysreal, the supereal.

Fortunately, people have been telling me exactly what I need to hear lately. They’ve been telling me they love me.

I am a logical person, and I am an artist. I have been infamously known to say, “I scored two points shy of a perfect score on the logic and analysis portion of the GRE.” – which doesn’t mean much, but means something. I don’t trust the validity of things that don’t make sense, which is why I never thought much of the God they taught us about in Catholic School. None of it ever made sense to me. This, on the other hand, makes sense to me. We are talking about shape, we are talking about form, we are talking about patterns and breaks in patterns, we are talking about feeling and about story…these things make sense to me.

…and listening to the radio and studying clouds is more fun than reading the Bible.

Real Life Disclaimer: yes, I know…I have to go to work on Tuesday and tomorrow morning I will make oatmeal for children before sweeping the floor. Perhaps I will take them for a walk and talk to them about how I am going back to school in the winter. Oh, what am I studying? Narrative process in transformative paradigms, maybe something about madness. My children understand that madness exists. They almost lost their mother to madness…

I know they have some sort of carnival planned for tomorrow that has something to do with a ladder and a water hose. That should be fun.

We’ll probably give the dog a bath.

My life is pretty normal.

One thought on “My Life is Pretty Normal

  1. …hmmm…and yet…I adore things that don’t make sense…because then I can figure how they might…and if they don’t well, even that is interesting…and I can love them for not making sense…

    I know that people spend hours and hours debating what is real. It just depends on whether or not you believe in it. I, personally, do not believe in things that don’t make sense, but still acknowledge that they are real, in some way.


    I like this new habit of mine, of commenting back to myself. This really is an exercise in self-narration, reflective consideration of the perspectives that shape stories of conflicting truth and its resolution.

    The more I have worked on sorting this all out in my mind, the less I experience the anguish of dissonance and the muddle of depression, nihilism.

    So, ironically, engaging in ideas and states of experienced consciousness that some would deem to be “psychotic” is actually vital to my sense of well-being.

    Maybe my life isn’t normal…?

    I am, after all, deeply and consistently happy.

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