"Don't Think It's Funny"

I got home from work today to a delightful tiny surprise.  One of my very favorite people had sent me a full-length letter, folded into a tiny greeting card, which my boyfriend put on my desk chair for me to find.  There was a moment of pure joy as I realized what the small missive was, followed by at least 10 minutes of pleasure as I read her words.  Somehow, even in this day and age of blogs, facebook messages, g-chat, and texting (don't even get me started on texting!) there is nothing quite as satisfying as a handwritten letter from a good friend.

She mentioned how much she had been enjoying my blog...  My blog!?!  And I realized that I didn't even know what song I was on, I have gotten so immersed in school, studying, work, and travel.  In the past 10 nights, I have spent 6 in a bed that is not my own.  I write this not as an apology, but more as a gratitude for remembering my blog- because she reminded me how much I have been enjoying it.

So I went through my process of looking up my song on the Sister Hazel website, and then looking up the lyrics on another website, all while listening to a you-tube version of the song to get me inspired.  Today's song is: "Don't Think It's Funny".

I yeah I sit and watch the sky It sometimes talks to me
(Come on talk to me)
You yeah you say you'd rather die
You say what's on the TV, TV no, no, no, no, no

Just today, I was at my parents' house, and my mom commented that 'young people today' are losing their communication skills as technology takes such an important role.  What are we missing when we watch tv instead of watching the sky, send a facebook note instead of a handwritten letter, or text instead of picking up the phone?  I sometimes feel like I was born in the wrong generation- because I love my letters, and genuinely hate texting.  Yet, although I can see that technology can block our contact with others- I also can see how much it can help.  I do not think technology itself is the problem.  

I'm in a Gestalt therapy class this semester, and in Gestalt theory, we humans are always interrupting contact- full mindful presence.  When contact with another person, or just with the here and now becomes too intense- we interrupt it.  This can come in many shapes and sizes- making joke when I have just found out horrible news, daydreaming during meditation, zoning out during a lecture.  Of course, sometimes we need to interrupt contact because we need a chance to breathe.  When one of my favorite clients broke his ankle at work this summer, I came home and purposefully watched three episodes of Modern Family.  All I wanted then was to withdraw for a little while, and stop obsessing about what I could have done differently.  I see this as a healthy interruption.  It's only when the interruptions become habitual and involuntary that they are a problem.  Technology is rife with ways to break contact, and become habitual and involuntary.  However, I imagine that as long as there have been people, there have been ways to interrupt contact.  Maybe someone lost themselves obsessively in a novel, instead of 6 hours of television (of course I never do this today), or maybe they had to communicate, but hid themselves behind false words.  Technology may make it easier, but it didn't invent the game.

Gonna take my time 'cause you're wastin' mine
And you're not too kind and I don't think it's funny no
Gonna take my time 'cause you're wastin' mine
And you're not too kind and I don't think it's funny no, no, no, no

I think these lyrics are saying something like, "if you're not going to real- you're wasting my time".  I believe genuine presence with another person is one of the most beautiful gifts there is.  And maybe Sister Hazel's right- if I'm not there, maybe I'm just wasting time.

"Space Between Us"

This is an achingly sad song; two lovers split, one heading north of Albuquerque, the other south.  It sounds as though the singer is hoping the "space between us" will be impermanent, but the reality seems less hopeful when he says:

I've been here it's so familiar, Close the book I know the end
Want so much a different story, Want so much a different way

It sounds like despite his desperate desire to keep their relationship together, he knows it probably won't.  

 

It isn't exactly clear why the relationship has fallen to pieces, but one line always hits me hard:

 

Open my door the cupboard's bare

It's hard to give when nothing's there

 

I am blessed to be in a relationship that is very full, of both hope and joy.  Yet that feeling of how hard it is to give when nothing's there is very familiar to me.  When I run myself into the ground, going, going, going- I might imagine that I am filling up my life- but what I realize later, is that I am usually using up every resource I have available until there are none left.  I work as a caregiver, and I am going to school for counseling- to be a "professional helper".  Clearly, I want to be able to give of myself.  But there are days I come home and feel too tired to even respond to a friend's email, or to call someone on their birthday.  I have zapped my giving potential, by giving it all away without replenishing it.

 

So my project- the project of my life I suppose- is to balance giving to myself and to others- so that I am best able to do both.  This semester that project means working a lot less.  I very consciously refused to work on Fridays, even though I technically have them open and turning down work is a massive internal struggle for me.  This past Friday, I got up early, went to the gym, meditated for 20 minutes, and finished all my homework by 2 pm.  As I lounged on my couch, reading a novel, I had a sudden moment, a flash, of pure joy.  The recognition that this is how I want to be: Relaxed and overflowing with energy to share with others.  I can only get to that place by giving to myself first.

"Little Things"

"I've got an infatuation with the little things

They make me feel good - Why should I feel bad?" 

 

 I love this song for being exactly what it espouses: it can be one of the 'little things' that make my day.  A simple, bright, upbeat song that cheers me up even as I re-play it in my mind.

 

Since senior year of high school I have kept a running "Happy List" in a now falling apart, coverless notebook.  It began as an attempt to affirm myself and my life in the midst of a difficult situation, as I quoted kind emails friends had sent me, or reveled in old memories.  As it grew I simply added anything that made me happy from "half wet sand that both sounds and feels neat to walk on", "sweet tea", "Sister Hazel" (of course), "the smell after it rains", along with statements of gratitude for amazing friends, family, and experiences.  Now, eight years later I have 1,130 'little things' (and counting!) to be happy about.

It's the little things that make up a life: The wildflowers on a camping trip, the nickname a friend creates out of love, the games I have played in the pool with one of my campers.  In noticing the little things, I can remember how full to the brim I am.

"Used to Run"

I am intrigued by happiness.  Just in the past few months I have read or re-read Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project", Jonathan Haidt's "The Happiness Hypothesis", Marci Shimoff's "Happy for No Reason", Eric Weiner's "The Geography of Bliss", Daniel Gilbert's "Stumbling on Happiness", and many other fabulous books that don't actually have a 'happiness' synonym in the title, but are essentially about the same thing.

I think part of the intrigue comes from how bewildering difficult something so simple seems.  I may know that I would be far happier going for a run or calling up a friend than falling asleep on the couch after work, yet I can say that nearly every afternoon I cozy up with cushions, instead of lacing up my running shoes.

My worst habit is that I inexplicably over-schedule myself almost constantly.  Once again, I know that I am happiest if I have at least two or three evenings a week where the only thing I have planned is reading a good book or playing whist with my boyfriend.  Yet, almost without fail I will agree to meet up with friends, or my ultimate weakness: work.  There was one period last semester that I worked 6 weekends in a row, along with my usual work/school schedule.  Despite the fact that I inevitably end up in tears, when a final, tiny, responsibility, like making my lunch for the next day, breaks me.  I realize that I have burnt myself out again, and for a few days concentrate on taking care of myself and saying no to work or social commitments.  Then, gradually, the cycle starts over, and 2 months later I am crying on my bed again.

 I don't think I am alone in this.  While not everyone works themselves into the ground, imagining it will make them happy, most people seem to have some weakness that they keep returning to.  Some imagine that buying new things, clothes, technology, cars, or fancy beauty enhancers (pick your poison) will bring that elusive happiness, only to come home wondering why they feel empty.  Others think a high-end job, a new romance, or moving to an exotic location will do the trick.  For the spiritual bypassers, every new meditation technique, workshop, or guru seems to promise what they seek.

Don't know what I'm gonna make of this.
Feeling contemplative today.
I'm used to finding solace
In what I bought or what I thought but
That's not going to be satisfactory today. 

Sister Hazel points out that all these happiness strategies can backfire when the solace we are seeking is not found.  In Buddhism, and probably most spiritual traditions, happiness really can only be found 'within'.  Your circumstances actually have very little to do with how happy you can be.  The classic example is that of the Dalai Lama: in exile from his beloved home, he still seems to radiate pure joy of being.  

In "Used to Run" there seems to be determination to figure all this out:

Used to run and try to hide,
Today I'll stay and pick a side

And if I die well least I tried

"One Nation"

One of the things I love so much about Sister Hazel is their decidedly liberal, socially active style.  They sing about issues I believe in.  "One Nation" is one of my favorites; it can be read as commentary on racism, sexism, any "ism" really.  Simply because I think that the message is powerful and beautiful (and a bit tongue in cheek as well!) I am going to post the full lyrics for this piece:

When you were born you didn't know
You thought we were the same
You know we walked the same - we talked the same
Although you never knew my name
But you were told when we were young
That I was not the same
"You know he's not the same - he's not the same!"
And then you never asked my name...

I say won't you have a lovely day
And then you come back telling me to go to hell

But it's One Nation Indivisible
One Nation Indivisible
One Nation Indivisible - oh my God it's irresistible
One Nation Indivisible

Well a baby is a baby A man he is a man
You know he tries the same - he cries the same
And then you know he dies the same
But when I ask in disbelief
And they say "just because!"
You know I have to state - we learn to hate
And man you know I can't relate...!

 

I believe children are born full of love, willing to be open to anyone who comes their way.  It is only the way they are taught, both by their families and by society at large, that causes them to learn to hate.   

"Will Not Follow"

Every summer since I was 16 (with the exception of two mind-blowing and wonderful summers spent in Iowa) I have worked at a day camp for people with disabilities.  Though my own role there has morphed, adding new responsibilities, and changing expectations, the campers remind me of the joy of simple moments, the magic in every day experiences.  We went to a car wash a few weeks ago to manually hose down the ever-dirty bus.  On my own, a car wash is a chore that just needs to be done.  With the campers, it was a pure adventure of excitement and delight.  Three young campers and I stood on a small platform, nearly level with the roof of the bus, as one of my co-workers sprayed the water, artificially colored pink and blue.  As she worked, much of the water came bursting towards towards us, and all the campers shrieked and giggled as they got wet.  Another boy sneaked off to the automatic car wash, because one of his greatest joys in life is giving thumbs-up to the drivers who dare to go through.  When the automatic wash had no customers he waited impatiently, and when one finally drove up, he cheered. 

That same camper cannot go through a tunnel on the road without demanding, loudly, that the driver honk.  As soon as he hears the first, "BEEP BEEP", he bursts into paroxysms of laughter.  There is no way to be in the same vicinity and not feel pure, unadulterated delight.  I have begun to look forward to tunnels and car washes even when I am alone, because my campers have reminded me of just how fabulous those basic things can be.

Yet finding that pure joy in simple moments is not always easy when I don't have an enthusiastic side kick reminding me of the excitement of seeing a train, or the fun in hearing a truck honk its horn.  I easily become wrapped up in worry about the future, fixating on memories from the past, and too lost in thought to see the joy all around me. 

Tomorrow dawn it lights the way for me,
Down a road that goes on and on And on and on and on ...
Just survivin' it ain't the way to be.
Tried it once and it took it's toll on me.

He hesitated, never acted in the now.
I never waited, wiped the sweat off of my brow.
They congregated so I looked at them and bowed.
And I'll have my way, I'll have my way,
And never turn around.

I wonder if Sister Hazel is speaking to the same doldrums I can find myself mired in.  Trying so hard to survive can take its toll when worry and fear take away from the beauty in the present moment.  I don't think it is possible to laugh till your stomach hurts as you go through a tunnel and to feel anxiety at the same time.  I feel empathy for the "he" who "hesitated, never acted in the now".  It is so easy to become swallowed by responsibilities and demands.  I often worry if I am making the right decisions, struggling with my choices and my plans.  My campers teach me, however, that all I need is here in the present moment.  One afternoon spent washing a bus can dissolve all fear.  One ride through a tunnel can re-invigorate even the gloomiest of days.

"All For You"

Although Sister Hazel made it big with "All For You" on their second album "Somewhere More Familiar" it actually debuted on the first.  I loved the song when it came out and went out and bought the CD.  Yet even back then, after I had heard all of the other pieces on the album, "All For You" did not place among my favorites.  Nowadays, this song is usually the one I'll skip over on my I-Pod, to get to one of the more under-played.

"It's hard to say what it is I see in you,

Wonder if I'll always be with you,

But words can't say, and I can't do

Enough to prove, it's all for you"

After contemplating the mortal limits of language I can look at the song in a slightly different light.  I tend to see it as a relatively straightforward love song, and it is for the most part.  Yet it also points to some of what was touched on in "Sometimes": that it is impossible to fully capture our experience with language.  Words are not quite rich enough. This is song of a deep and passionate love, and of the frustration of not quite being able to convey it fully.  I imagine the singer asking that his beloved simply rest in faith in his love.  Despite his inability to completely prove its depth she can be comfortable knowing his love is there.