I'm currently obsessed with the Modest Mouse lyric "when time and life shook hands and said good-bye." The imagery in that line--and in that song as he describes the ocean meeting the sky and the earth folding in on itself--has been stuck in my head since I first heard Mark Kozelec sing it on his MM tribute album, which happens to be one of my all-time favorites.
I cannot listen to this song without crying. Sometimes the tears form in tiny wells along the bottom edges of my eyes that do little more than temporarily blur my vision. Other times--like today--the tears overflow onto my cheekbones, accompanied by slight hiccups.
The soul of an artist is keenly aware of the fact that life is temporary. Regardless of your religious beliefs about the afterlife, our time walking the earth and breathing the air is limited, and we are powerless to stop it. This truth reverberates through my own psyche in nearly every moment of my life.
It was there this week as I sat cross-legged with a friend listening to old stories. And as I engaged in a conversation with an outspoken teenage girl about speaking to adults with respect even when they're irritating. It fell upon me as I chatted with friends in the wee hours of the night about the minutiae that makes up daily life. And again as I watched a friend get married on the shore of the Gulf and danced with her to the sounds of American Top 40 music whose appeal I will never understand.
This awareness of mortal limits strikes at the heart of what I fear most--missing out on a moment to make a memory. Yes, that comment tends to conjure fits of laughter from people who like to point out that I am not afraid to play with fire or take a risk and will list the places I've been and the memories I've already created. And it's difficult to explain to someone who doesn't live with this overwhelming sense of life and death that makes me sometimes want to run through the woods under a full moon and scream the sounds that a soul can make when it's unafraid to be free.
That lyric strikes at that. I think of the times time and life have shaken hands during my lifetime--all the good-byes I've said to places and people and experiences. Each moment is so indescribable...and indelible. And the mere fact that I get to LIVE them on a daily basis simply rumbles within me as a rush of gratitude that courses my veins with a fiery fervor. Who am I that I should get to experience that absolute rush of life flowing within me?
I just don't want to miss that moment when the sun slips beneath the horizon and find that I wasted it. It's so quick. So. So. Quick.
I cannot listen to this song without crying. Sometimes the tears form in tiny wells along the bottom edges of my eyes that do little more than temporarily blur my vision. Other times--like today--the tears overflow onto my cheekbones, accompanied by slight hiccups.
The soul of an artist is keenly aware of the fact that life is temporary. Regardless of your religious beliefs about the afterlife, our time walking the earth and breathing the air is limited, and we are powerless to stop it. This truth reverberates through my own psyche in nearly every moment of my life.
It was there this week as I sat cross-legged with a friend listening to old stories. And as I engaged in a conversation with an outspoken teenage girl about speaking to adults with respect even when they're irritating. It fell upon me as I chatted with friends in the wee hours of the night about the minutiae that makes up daily life. And again as I watched a friend get married on the shore of the Gulf and danced with her to the sounds of American Top 40 music whose appeal I will never understand.
This awareness of mortal limits strikes at the heart of what I fear most--missing out on a moment to make a memory. Yes, that comment tends to conjure fits of laughter from people who like to point out that I am not afraid to play with fire or take a risk and will list the places I've been and the memories I've already created. And it's difficult to explain to someone who doesn't live with this overwhelming sense of life and death that makes me sometimes want to run through the woods under a full moon and scream the sounds that a soul can make when it's unafraid to be free.
That lyric strikes at that. I think of the times time and life have shaken hands during my lifetime--all the good-byes I've said to places and people and experiences. Each moment is so indescribable...and indelible. And the mere fact that I get to LIVE them on a daily basis simply rumbles within me as a rush of gratitude that courses my veins with a fiery fervor. Who am I that I should get to experience that absolute rush of life flowing within me?
I just don't want to miss that moment when the sun slips beneath the horizon and find that I wasted it. It's so quick. So. So. Quick.
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