Song From My Sister

My sister sure can talk, baby, also. She wrote this in high school, about her, about me and about us being sisters together. And I absolutely love it! Also love the video taken by my husband when we visited Seattle in August of 2009, which I think is really really funny. Thanks David and thank you Stephanie, for being the best sister I ever could have had.

"You're too funny," she says to me in a playful mocking way. Her laugh settles into a heavy, stretching sigh. She's beaming at me with a mouth full of thick, ortho perfect ivory, reminding me of a white picket fence.

She continues the conversation and I can't help concentrating on the delicate, but firm sound of voice; the words ending with soft corners. Her short sturdy fingers press upon the stereo controls with swift, confident precision. A familiar tune rises from the fuzzy black speakers and we smile at each other with recognition. The room is glowing from the sweet smell of music and her childish display of happiness. Her head plays with the rhythm, bouncing left to right, and her golden brown curls tumble in every direction. Her face lights up, singing along and she's bending her knees to the beat.

The music wraps us with cotton memories. They turn whiter and fluffier over the years, but I faintly remember how coarse they once were. She was twelve and I was eight. Trapped in the same room, we had our separate illusions of privacy and "being older." We held a thick wall between us, to protect our dignity and individuality. But mine wasn't sturdy, and I often wanted to crawl to her side when mine became too silent. Flowers and beautiful music lingered among her wall and I had to strain my ears and my eyes to see them. Her Pink bedspread with yarn sewn hearts, looked across the room in shame, at my sickly yellow and green striped blanket.

My hair was never as full and curly, and my cheeks never shone the same rosy color. My eyes were brown beads, compared to her big blue ones. And my voice tripped awkwardly out of my mouth, smothered by the graceful melody of hers. She would pull Tiger out of my arms, because he was her cat and loved her more than me. I listened with aching envy to her share secrets on the phone, and leave for the movies with friends.

I suffered the unforgivable justice of being too young. But I loved my sister all the same with an unconditional admiration that was too powerful to drift into jealousy. And she loved me, with the older sister pride that was difficult for her to show. But I knew, watching her sing and dance in my room, smiling.
~ Stephanie Hirning

Hold On

Do we take on our parents' troubles because we think we "owe" them? But what do we really owe them? Serious question....

They raised us, my sister Stephanie & I - crazingly-amazing girls with all this energy that they had no idea what to do with...they did the best they could, and this post is not about blaming. And yet...they didn't SEE us really and now? Really, now that we are finally finding ourselves and going to make our lives golden we have to take all this time & energy to nurse their worst fears and entertain their drama and engage in all this bullshit, REALLY?!

We will get through this, my current family crisis, and people will have to adjust, they will have to change, and it WILL be painful, I don't mean to down play that at all. But we (myself, my sister, my brothers) do not have to be the buffer for the pain of others, we do NOT have to absorb it if we just say No. (And a wise woman once told me "You don't have to be angry, to say No" - because I've been pretty white-hot ANGRY lately.)

I know, not "just" - it's never "just" anything. My mother in Seattle is dangerously close to ending up in a wheelchair, at the young-old age of 67, because she needs a knee replacement but her legs aren't strong enough for her to get one. And I/we haven't done "enough" (so the Extended-Family story goes or seems to be going).

And so I have her siblings calling me up (and my older brother too), saying how concerned they are, how she needs a stationary bike in her living room in addition to the physical therapy, and how oh my gosh "she doesn't seem to be taking care of her personal hygiene" - and I just want to SCREAM sometimes.

I cannot make my mother want to live. THAT is the awful truth. And I will not suffer needlessly for it. I flatly refuse. I say NO to feeling BAD about my mother & her choices. I just cannot do it and still have a Good Life of my own. I put the mask on (in the airplane, when the cabin loses pressure or oxygen goes out or whatever), on me first. Only then can I help anyone else. Do you understand?

A friend contributed this quote: "Things going 'wrong' are actually things going right." A friend who is having her own family struggles right now, so I know she knows something about this. But somedays I still struggle to see anything "right" about all this.

Hold On
~ Sarah McLachlan
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
You know that only time will tell
What is it in me that refuses to believe
This isn’t easier than the real thing
My love
You know that you’re my best friend
You know I’d do anything for you
My love
Let nothing come between us
My love for you is strong and true

Am I in heaven here or am i...
At the crossroads I am standing
So now you’re sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
That you’ll be strong tomorrow and we’ll
See another day and we will praise it
And love the light that brings a smile
Across your face

Oh God if you’re out there won’t you hear me
I know that we’ve never talked before
Oh God the man I love is leaving
Won’t you take him when he comes to your door

Am I in heaven here or am I in hell
At the crossroads I am standing
So now you’re sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
That you’ll be strong tomorrow and we’ll
See another day and we will praise it
And love the light that brings a smile
Across your face...

Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHBmpGLGyk8&ob=av2e

Good Enough
~ Sara McLachlan
Hey your glass is empty
It’s a hell of a long way home
Why don’t you let me take you
It’s no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
But you seemed so real to me
After all the bullshit I’ve heard
It’s refreshing not to see
I don’t have to pretend
She doesn’t expect it from me

Don’t tell me I haven’t been good to you
Don’t tell me I have never been there for you
Don’t tell me why
Nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy
Your momma said that it’s ok
The door is open come on outside
No I can’t come out today
It’s not the wind that cracked your shoulder
And threw you to the ground
Who’s there that makes you so afraid
You’re shaken to the bone
And I don’t understand
You deserve so much more than this

So don’t tell me why
He’s never been good to you
Don’t tell me why
He’s never been there for you
Don’t you know that why
Is simply not good enough
So just let me try
And I will be good to you
Just let me try
And I will be there for you
I’ll show you why
You’re so much more than good enough...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjKPJbtghvs

Perfect Girl
~ Sarah McLachlan
Am I faithful, am I strong, am I good enough to belong
In your reverie a perfect girl
Your vision of romance is cruel and all along I played the fool
All your expectations bury me

Don't worry you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don't forgo know that you're loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time

I own my insecurities I try to own my destiny
That I can make or break it if I choose
But you take my words and twist them 'round
Til I'm the one who brings you down
Me me feel like I'm the one to blame for all of this...

Don't worry you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don't forgo know that you're loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time

You need everybody with you on your side
Know that I am here for you but I hope in time
You'll find yourself alright alone
You'll find yourself with open arms
You'll find yourself you'll find yourself in time

The riot in my heart decides to keep me open and alive
I have to take myself away from you
'Cause I can't compete I can't deny there's nothing that I didn't try
How did I go wrong in loving you

Don't worry you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don't forgo know that you're loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laeln1XKjoU

You Always Hurt The One You Love

So, David & I recently watched the movie "Blue Valentine" and it completely broke both our hearts - but in a specific individual way for both of us....because despite however much we "merge" with the loved one, we always remain separate, individual, and ultimately alone.

David had a girlfriend long-ago who had an abortion, and he was there with her...I was always terrified of having to have one myself, but never did. But I was there holding hands of friends who did, and it was painful. In all meanings of that word.

And then there's just the routine pain (depicted so well in this movie), of love that gets worn-out over time - how we stop seeing each other and how we forget to love the best thing in each other, or at least want the best for the one that we love the most. And then, how we hurt them.

So....whatever you do, be sure to watch "Blue Valentine" with the one that you love - and hurt - the most!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BM0A_yg8XjU

You Always Hurt The One You Love
~ words by Allan Roberts and music by Doris Fisher
You always hurt the one you love
The one you shouldn't hurt at all
You always take the sweetest rose
And crush it till the petals fall

You always brea-eak the kindest hear-eart
With a hasty word you can't recall, so
If I broke your heart la-ast night
It's because I love you most of all

You always hurt the one you lo-ove
The one you shouldn't hurt at all
You always take the sweetest ro-ose
And crush it till the petals fa-all

You always break the kindest heart
With a hasty word you can't recall
So-o if I broke your heart last night
It's because I love you mo-ost of a-all

You always hurt the one you love
The one you shouldn't hurt at all
You always take the sweetest rose
Crush it, ti-ill the petals fall

You always brea-eak the kindest heart
With a hasty word you can't recall, so
If I broke your heart last night
It's because I love you most of all...

Other versions:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qOCCq0gjvrE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cTxNlxPasw

River & Tanya

I'll never forget how I got the bad news...letter from Alexa about our mutual friend who went to the Seattle Arboretum and took a shot-gun to her heart. And almost 16 years later, we still don't know exactly why she did it. RIP Tanya Lippe.

This song, from the time I heard the news, always makes me think of her...and my Dad, who died also (though not by his own hand), about a year later. The 15th anniversary of his death is coming up (7/24/1996), and so I can't help but think of it.

I love you both, I wish you were still here with us. Why did you go? I still don't understand.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_E-Jd_HRoIU

"River"
by Natalie Merchant
Young & strong Hollywood son
In the early morning light
This star fell down
On Sunset Boulevard

Young & strong beautiful one
One that we embraced so close
Is gone
Was torn away

Let the youth of America mourn
Include him in their prayers
Let his image linger on
Repeat it everywhere

With candles with flowers
He was one of ours
One of ours

Why don't you let him be?
He's gone
We know
Give his mother & his father peace
Your vulture's candor
Your casual slander
You murder his memory
He's gone
We know
It's nothing but a tragedy

Lay to rest your soul and body
Lay beside your name
Lay to rest your rage
Your hunger and amazing grace

With candles, with flowers
You were one of ours
One of ours

I saw cameras expose your life
I heard rumors explode with lies
I saw children with tears
Cry and crowd around the sight
Of where you had collapsed that day
Where your last breath & word
Had been sighed
Where your heart had burst
And where you had died
Where you had died

I saw how they were lost in grieving
All half-believing you were gone
The loss and pain of it
Crime and the shame of it
You were gone
It was such a nightmare raving,
"how can we save him
From himself?"
Saw how they were lost in grieving
All half-believing you were gone

Love Song For A Vampire

Tonight, after watching the movie "Let Me In" (and having watched the original "Let the Right One In" on advice of my sister), I found myself telling my husband "If I were your vampire girlfriend, I would TOTALLY kill any bullies who beat up on you when you were a scared skinny 12 year old kid."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reRRAEVHq8E

Is that LOVE or something else entirely strange & twisted? :)

But either way, I do love me some Annie Lennox - her Love Song For A Vampire always takes me back to England, and probably informed some of my poetry from that time (see "The Taste Just Slips Away" blog post). I think Spring of 1993 is when the song (and related movie) came out. A long time ago but it feels still relevant:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhG8zC4npsE
Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
The rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum.
It beats for you, it bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds.
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs.

Once I had the rarest rose that
ever deigned to bloom.
Cruel winter chilled the balm,
And stole my flower too soon
O loneliness, O hopelessness
To search the ends of time,
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine.

Love....Still falls the rain.
Be mine forever...

Let me be the only one
To keep you from the cold.
Now the floor of heav'n is laid,
Its stars of brightest glow.
They shine for you.
They shine for you.
They burn for all to see.
Come into these arms again
And set this spirit free.

Sylvia

I don't exactly remember what 

the voices were like in my head 

that first semester of my final 

year at the college I was 

so lucky to attend. 

I only remember that I felt distorted, 

trapped in a bad dream 

and scared to death 

during that brief bell jar period. 

But I had so many more choices 

than she did! Was not expected 

to conform to a certain model of 

womanhood: marry a doctor and 

start having armfuls of cute 

babies to fill a suburban home

immediately post-graduation. 

And for this, I should have been 

grateful, I should have been so

excited about the future and 

completely sexually liberated, 

feeling free, confident. 

I should have been having 

the time of my life and able 

to make those next-year 

career decisions, but instead 

I couldn't even concentrate 

on conversations I tried to have 

in the women's locker room among 

those irritatingly athletic voices 

discussing everything to do 

with the trivial & perky present: 

papers we were writing, parties to go to, 

our next game against Cal-Lutheran. 

And at those endless soccer practices 

there was so much exhausting 

movement in that great green 

sunlit expanse, and me just dying 

to be lying down in beautiful 

shadow of nearby trees 

turning toward the dark side 

of my nature, escaping 

the Southern California heat 

and smog and finally coming 

to full sweet rest.

The Taste Just Slips Away

Series of poems I wrote while/after studying abroad in England - January to June, 1993. And some music from that time too.

Ride - Dreams Burn Down
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5zTuVhNs5c

I
Breathing Places
Even though my heart hurts and
in places my skin pounds so
strongly that I am scared
I continue to breathe this smoke
and the scent on your neck.
I do not choke, despite the fear
for I am enchanted by this.

I take you into
a safe secret place
and if you will be
just what you are
you are welcome here.
And in these pounding moments
we talk-connect-see the world
whole and intact.
It shines on, despite the fear.

And we continue, and I am telling you
everything there is to know.
Even from within my sleep
my mind reaches for you
my hands touching
something sweet and brandnew
my tongue caressing
these thoughtful words and you
tracing your stories on my back
as we lie like spoons
and I begin to spin and lose
perception of the room
and ask you: please.

I did not expect but I wanted so much
to touch someone like this and be touched
like that, there, in places
that swell and tell all there is to know
about me
and shiver and tremble
despite the fact that I'm not cold or scared.

One hand hesitates and does not want to, and yet I do,
one part wants not to start
to find these places but it is already begun:
a dialogue, a connection, a conversation
between separate and different spaces.
And you are necessary, for
however many moments or months
we may have,
almost involuntary, like this pulse in my neck
the beating in my wrist, here:
feel this.
I breathe
and have no regrets.

II
In breathing places we talked
but we forgot the stories, misplaced the thought
we looked past the other’s shoulder
at anything more interesting outside
of whatever the lover
had to give inside this room.
That is when the conversation faltered
and the dialogue stopped.
I continue to breathe and feel my pulse but
we don't talk
about what happened in the darkness
we don't talk about what
darkness lies between us, when we love without
feeling love, what separation feels like after
white light and heat of fusion
and we don’t realize the chasm
we try, nightly, to bridge
we don’t recognize the darkness within us
that throbbing mass of life
a place so mysterious and hot to the touch
pounding with hunger and fear that makes
us bite each others skin, and fight
in the darkness every night
and soon it will be too much.

III
The Meanings of Words
Underneath the surface
of your skin
love tells me
that words have many
meanings, they resound
bound outside of their definitions
become throbbing muscle
in my head
like the beat, the drum in your neck
your wrists, your thumb, your hand
in the pretty oblivion of your bed
love tells me
about your skin, that paper-thin covering
your eyes, those inscrutable depths
that pound and echo
these words:
I love you.

And I have been
underneath the surface
of where I have lived
not telling you my light and darkness
not using these many-colored
words to etch upon your back
a picture
stained glass
of what I am and what I could
give and what I will leave
with you when I go
what sort of quiet, pounding thoughts
in your head.

And I forgot
to stop talking and listen
to your words, to everything
you said, what sort of love you had to give
and your memories of moments you have truly lived
and your dreams, tell me
can we make sense of this oblivion,
can we love each other, when we are outside
the lovely darkness of your bed?

I want so much
to transcend
what holds me underneath
the surface of your words
your skin, and love
which is a pretty monster
only inside my head.
So tell me everything
and I will tell you:
here is my many-colored heart,
here is my skin.

IV
Remember to Smell
it's an ache
it's a thought
which starts
above your lip
and goes on down
makes a trail like sweat
like memory but it doesn't
help me to truly remember
how it felt

impossible to place myself back there
in England, with you
when I am, undeniably in the U.S.
here, in this audience of patchouli
oil and beer and cigarettes
and so many people wanting
things to fly away, melt
so many people wanting things
to be unfelt

and I remember the feel of your sweat
but the memory doesn't
help me to truly remember
how it tasted and smelled and felt
the salt and skin
upon your neck
the tears upon your eyelids
that staring blame and silent threat

the smell remembers more than the memory:
deceit and disappointment smell like cigarettes
it's an ache
that wanting to go back
and do it better
wanting it all to be different
it's a thought
it's a regret

V
That Was the Thing I Forgot to Say
About how the rain sounded on the top
of the tent outside your window
of your dormitory on Jesus College campus
in Cambridge, England
the morning after the June ball
that all-night revelry, and dressing up
like we were royalty, or at least adults.

That was the morning after it all
and in the comedown and in the midst
of the (barely felt) loneliness
of two people
my voice filled in the quiet spaces
and to my ears sounded slightly self-indulgent,
even arrogant but I couldn't
stop because I love it:
those moments, not ever recorded
only remembered sometimes with the help of music:
a dark, imagining space sounding
across years.

But even the music doesn't remember
how it felt
the coffee-cigarettes-and-beer we consumed
how we consumed each other
and the way we talked
only the poetry I wrote, about all of it
remembers how
the taste of your room smelled
remembers only this:
two bodies touching, turning, hearts sounding
like thunder in our ears.

I hear it in my dreams sometimes
my voice, arrogant, with the rain coming down
(no tears, this is barely felt)
full from this flood of conversation
my voice, smooth and spilling over into spaces
filling the memory
with how good the lonely last taste of you felt.

Ride - Taste
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APqGzOD0fUk

Tired of the Gender Politics of Things

Soooooooo....things today are unfortunately not so different from 1994, when I wrote this (or maybe 1960s when dear Anne wrote hers), that I feel it's still relevant to post this.

I was tired of being a woman,
tired of the spoons and the pots,
tired of my mouth and my breasts,
tired of the cosmetics and the silks.
There were still men who sat at my table,
circled around the bowl I offered up.
The bowl was filled with purple grapes
and the flies hovered in for the scent
and even my father came with his white bone.
But I was tired of the gender of things.
-Anne Sexton


I was tired of being a feminist
tired of the rooms of my own and the endless
impassioned yet ineffectual talks,
tired of my voice and my fists,
tired of the plain face and the frump.
There were still books that sat at my table,
circled around the mind I offered up.
The mind was filled with plans and goals
and the world waited for the changing
and even my father expected me to do that work.
But I was tired of the politics of things.
-Michele Hirning

Ruminating on Love

Ruminating on the "fact" that
we as human beings, like
cows, aren't supposed to eat
grains, should eat at least
something like grass - he's
so sure he's right and I am
so fragile like glass

I can't breathe
it feels like he's always
stepping on me, forcing
his opinions to be
and sometimes taking over all
the space in conversations

But frail at the same time
like the bones in his wrist
while searching for the third
seat belt in the backseat for
my friend and he can't find it
and is less than sure
and I suddenly love him
again

And he makes me
chicken soup when
I can't eat, rubs my
back when I can't sleep
and I don't want to leave

him yet I can't take
the criticism, the anger out of
nowhere like my father

the feeling that he's trying to
control or change me and
I'm never good enough, when
I always try and have such
good intentions

I am just struggling to survive
these days, this world with all
its danger and want my heart
intact and never to go back
to such vulnerability again

Gone Baby Gone

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WI-bHenF3L0&feature=related
"Where I Stood"
by Missy Higgins
I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

See I thought love was black and white
That it was wrong or it was right
But you ain't leaving without a fight
And I think I am just as torn inside

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call
You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all
But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you
This is what I have to do

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Oh, she who dares to stand where I stood

My riff on this song and because of all that I am thinking in my life right now, is that....
all I know is that I know who I am
I am a woman & I have
a woman's body
a woman's legs & breasts
a woman's life
a woman's memory & mind
a woman's heart

that, as wonderful a man
as you truly are
you don't always
understand

but we fight
each other

and we fight
to understand

each other
and keep this love going

as long as we can make it
until one day
we will both
be gone
************************************
More Missy Higgins - song called Warm Whispers ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZthGfwQnTI
Your warm whispers
Out of the dark they carry my heart
Your warm whispers
Into the dawn they carry me through
And I'm weeping warm honey and milk
That you stay surrounding me, surrounding me

Your warm whispers
Letting me drown in a pool of you
Your warm whispers
Keeping the noise from breaking through
And I'm weeping warm honey and milk
That you stay surrounding me, surrounding me
Yeah I'm weeping warm honey and milk that you
Stay surround me, surrounding me
Honey stay surrounding me

And a hyperlink below to a compilation on YouTube with a great live version of the above song...she is SO like a young Aussie Tori Amos I almost can't believe it!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KixC3qTvWjg&feature=autoplay&list=AVGxdCwVVULXerbUl3oWF3UjkKPmb-R5mW&index=6&playnext=6

The power of "and you're gone and you're gone and you're gone and you're gone" just haunts me. And it just goes on & on...

Hence the title of this slightly bizarre blog post - sorry that I'm sort of ripping off the title of a great movie! But creative license and all that, you know? Hopefully it's not trademarked....

And now for something completely political

On July 6th, some members of Congress sponsored the introduction of HR 2411, the "Reduce America's Debt Now Act of 2011."

HR 2411 states that every worker in America should be able to voluntarily have a portion of his/her wages automatically withheld and sent directly to the Treasury Department for the purposes of paying down the federal debt. WOW. How do they come up with this stuff?!

"Every employer making payment of wages shall deduct and withhold upon such wages any amounts so elected, and shall pay such amounts over to the Secretary of the Treasury..."

Even better: HR 2411 stipulates that any contribution made to the Treasury in order to pay down the federal debt IS NOT TAX DEDUCTIBLE.

"The [Treasury] Secretary shall include. . . a reasonably conspicuous statement that any amounts deducted and withheld from wages. . . are not deductible as charitable contributions for Federal income tax purposes."

There's a great quote from Atlas Shrugged that I think of:
"[W]hen you see that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing; when you see that money is flowing to those who deal not in goods, but in favors; when you see that men get rich more easily by graft than by work, and your laws no longer protect you against them, but protect them against you. . . you may know that your society is doomed."

Song to the Siren - whatever it was - it was GOOD

I've loved this song since I first heard it at about 16 years old (I think).

Elizabeth Fraser - all dreamy dance-about-love, mystical can't-remember-what-I-thought, when-I-first-heard this song, but whatever it was - it was GOOD. Still don't know for sure what it all MEANS, but have some ideas & some internet-contributed thoughts about all that too below...with the original sang by someone named Tim Buckley? Have you ever heard of him, me neither, but I apparently know him now. :)

"Song to the Siren"
~ by This Mortal Coil/Cocteau Twins
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mUmdR69nbM
On the floating, shapeless oceans

I did all my best to smile

til your singing eyes and fingers

drew me loving into your eyes.
And you sang "Sail to me, sail to me;

Let me enfold you."
Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.


Did I dream you dreamed about me?

Were you here when I was full sail?
Now my foolish boat is leaning, broken love lost on your rocks.

For you sang, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow."
"
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
"

I'm as puzzled as a newborn child.

I'm as riddled as the tide.

Should I stand amid the breakers?

Or shall I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing: "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you."

"Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you."

I guess this is the original, by Tim Buckley, I never knew before now, but lyrics changed some, as some comments say ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMTEtDBHGY4
http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3458764513820543170/

...the actual symbolism and lyrical content is derived directly from Homer's book the Odessey. But it's really a matter of unresponded love. It is also one of the most covered/remade/remixed songs ever.

The real magic of the song is in those last two lines. Singing to the siren who enticed him and broke him, the sailor becomes a siren himself, enticing her to swim out and return to him. Breathtakingly perfect.

In greek mythology sirens are female deities who draws ships to shipwreck. I think this song closely relates to this mythology. Tim makes it sound so mystical and this is one well written song.

I heard james yorkston's version and thought it was good then found out it was a tim buckley song, listened to it and....... WOW!!! so much emotion. we can all relate as well. who hasn't been lured on to the rocks by a beautiful siren, left there and then begged for a second chance. its about falling for someone who doesn't reciprocate the emotion, maybe feeling used at the end of it all.

And Robert Plant's rendition - meh, not so in love with it but he tried ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKaNksCdSI0

My Wedding Day

It's gonna be so great
It's gonna be so great
It's gonna be just like my wedding day
~ Rosie Thomas "Wedding Day"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGSfHn0CxCk

I love this, my sister's speech as Maid of Honor at my wedding, a long long time ago. 8 years ago on Tuesday actually, in fact. It was a great day, but what made it great was the people we loved who were there. And my sister's speech is all about that love.

It was a beautiful day, July 5th 2003 and this is what Stephanie said:
When Michele was five or six she had this really cute conversation with our Dad all about the injustices of life. Fortunately it was recorded on audio-tape and it’s become a great family joke, or treasure I should say. There is even a t-shirt you can buy (made by David Hirning) with a famous quote from that recorded conversation. Michele will show you – It says, “It’s not very good, really.”

This conversation was about our older brother David having nicer things – a better colored bike, better legos etc., and getting to stay up later at night. I think this moxy – as my dad would say – continues in Michele. Throughout her life she has questioned the way things are, stood up for herself and what she believes, and lived justly.

This is evident through her work with feminist organizations, nurses union, nonprofit volunteer groups, the subjects of study she’s pursued…But mostly this is clear through how much she loves her family and friends, how much she shows this, and how much she strives for perfection in her life. She’s my super-sister and whether she’s aware of it or not she’s always helped me to be a better person.

Another person who lives this way is David Munroe. The two of them are great thinkers with an enormous amount of energy for life. This makes for a lot of intensity. You can feel it. It’s all around them and around our family, I think. It’s from this intensity that beautiful things grow. I know they will continue to live with great intensity and love and I’m glad that I get to experience this through observing them and being a part of them.

I said earlier that Michele helps me to be a better person. I just wanted to say that all of my siblings do this. David Hirning reminds me to work hard like our dad and to pursue things that interest me in life. Chris reminds me to be humble and real and kind. And Michele reminds me to be a great thinker, to share, and to live justly. These are just a few of the things that I love about them.

In this audio-recorded conversation between Michele and our dad, Michele says she wishes she were adopted into a new family. The thing that is so precious is the way they are communicating in this moment, the caring way our dad is listening to her and discussing her list of complaints. “List” is the correct word – in the conversation she actually numbers her grievances – “#1 David has a better bike, #2 David gets a bigger allowance, #3 My legos are lost, #4 I have to sleep with Stephanie and she snores sooo loud (whine), #5 David gets to stay up to like 10 or 11 at night.”

One thing I’ve always felt in my family is that I can be completely honest, like Michele is being so honest in this conversation about her wishes for adoption into a new family. This is very freeing to feel you can be so honest. I’m grateful for the closeness that allows that to be possible. I know that that closeness exists for Michele and David Munroe as well. And I’m grateful to be able to be here today to celebrate it with them.