I can’t light no more of your darkness.
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white.
I’m growing tired
and time stands still before me,
frozen here on the ladder of my life.
Most often it is “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” that filters into my field in the wake of a watershed moment, as a gracious nod from Sub- and Super-conscious as they walk into the sunset holding hands –-Our work is done here— even if its still raining in my world. Cleansing rain. This time it was just the memory, needing one of those moments. The song didn’t seem to matter; the point was to sing, move energy, emote. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” was a good warm-up. “The Border Song” induced the time travel required to refuel in the simultaneity, the alchemy, the profundity, the mystery that even a thought of Bernie Taupin can evoke. And then…
There are those wondrous moments when one’s state, or a crisis in consciousness, can recast the meaning and relevance of a lyric, of a whole song, to become the soundtrack to some through-line in your own personal legend. As with a foreground reversal image, this “new” meaning was always there, in no way hidden, except by conventions of thought. And, in this case, it wasn’t even an entirely new meaning. I just hadn’t let it in fully yet. I needed its full impact today, so that it could break the stalled storm within as a storm outside–whose suspension had contributed to my distress– also finally delivered: Cleansing rain.
The clouds must come, over and over, cover the sun and press in upon us and make us forget, so that when they inevitably do release their tension and let loose 10,000 little liquid arrows of Eros, we remember there is the Sun, within and without, that does not go down on us.
So many things I thought I should be doing before this storm broke–
(though I search myself there’s always someone else I see)—
but once again, something saved my life, and I sat down to write.
How many times has Elton John saved my life?
ML August 25