Writing to music
And I'm back! I got up this morning, got some actual work done, took myself for a walk, and ate a real lunch. Then I sat down, put Cheryl Crow's I Shall Believe on repeat on my ipod, and wrote chapter five. Yesterday afternoon's aimless wandering and emptiness evidently served a purpose, because today I feel much better.
Yesterday, not even my specially designed writing mix on my ipod would do the trick. It's never a good sign when that happens. I'm one of those people who organizes her ipod based on mood rather than something obvious like genre. My pandora stations are exactly the same. I also happen to maintain a soundtrack of my life. I'm in the middle of building disc four at the moment.
The first one covers the years 1993-1998, the second 1998-2001, the third 2001-2005, and the fourth 2005-present. The last one only has seven songs on it so far. The very last song at the moment is Goodbye by Patty Griffin, which I heard her perform at the Ryman last spring. It was a truly religious experience, even though the song reminded me of my grandma and made me cry. The very first song on disc one is I Would Walk 500 Miles by The Proclaimers, which reminds me of my first summer at the camp that changed my life. So much has happened in that time, and the songs chronicle those changes beautifully.
The only thing I would trade being able to write for would be the ability to write songs. In fact, my writing tends to change depending on what I'm listening to. I learned the grace of words from Emily Saliers (exhibit a: Language or the Kiss, still my favorite Indigo Girls song). I picked up rhythm from Ani DiFranco, and along the way she taught me to use humor and power to get my meaning across. Her song School Night is perhaps the best bit of poetry I have ever read, and that she could set it so beautifully to music still astounds me. If you don't know it, go find the lyrics online and be moved. James Taylor brought me humility and simplicity, and a way to always connect to my roots. Tracy Chapman taught me that specificity makes your point better than beating people over the head. Her self-titled debut is probably the best example of the phrase, "the personal is political" that I know. I'm listening to Fast Car right now, and it still packs the same punch twenty years later. She also wrote the most beautiful anthem to longing (The Promise) that I know. (The Promise is on my disc one, and it is oh so bittersweet.)
For the last few years, I've been breathing in Patty Griffin's music. She is the best storyteller I know. It started with Rain. The opening bars of that song still have the power to stop me in my tracks and make me hold my breath for just a moment. Then it was Forgiveness, so replete with imagery, both religious and otherwise, that it just stunned me. I like to sing that one at the top of my lungs in my car. Very cathartic. Next was Useless Desires. The line "somewhere beyond the bitter end is where I want to be" has stuck with me from the very first time I heard it. Wow. And finally there's Heavenly Day, which can lift me up when nothing else will. I wish I could sing like that. I wish I could write like that. But mostly, I'm really glad she can and does.
I'm going to edit now, with her music pushing me along.