“The opposite of quitting is rededication. The opposite of quitting is an invigorated new strategy designed to break the problem apart.” – Seth Godin
“For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.” – T.S. Eliot, East Coker
These times challenge all of us, but some more than others. Perseverance seems a quaint notion, but really what else do we have but the courage to press on in the face of it all? I write this knowing I’m less challenged than some, more than others. I’m one of the lucky ones, it seems, and yet life keeps throwing curveballs at me just as it does to you. I believe the way we react to anything is just as important as that which happens to us. Short of an abrupt ending of our existence, we have this choice of how we deal with the cards we’re dealt in any given moment. I hope to play my hand well today and in the one to maybe 16,000 days I have left (That’s a lot of blog posts: I hope I don’t repeat myself too much).
I pulled this Seth Godin quote out of a draft I’d done six years ago, well before I started writing every day, well before COVID-19, well before the current political climate, and well before I became the current version of myself. We’ve all changed, really, some in profound ways, others less so, during the last six years. In some ways the world is worse, in others it’s steadily improving. We can say the same of ourselves. And for all my tongue-in-cheek humor about repeating my blog posts, I won’t be the same person next week, let alone in twenty years, so I figure the material will change accordingly.
The other day I had a great idea for a novel. I immediately started writing down the core plot and completed a first paragraph that stirred me. I’ve been waiting for the muse to tap me on the shoulder and offer up a nugget like this for some time, and I hope to do it justice. But I know it will die on the vine if I don’t chip away at it every day. And so I’ll keep writing, keep researching, keep reinvigorating and breaking it apart. You’ll know when it’s ready – this one will take awhile to get it right. Anyway, I believe the idea came to me because I’m showing the world and those random muses flying by that I’m committed to seeing it through. To doing the work that matters. Ultimately life is about showing up, and I’ve been doing that for 702, er, 703 posts now. And I’ve got my eye on 1000 and beyond. Whether anyone reads it hardly matters, it’s transformative for the author.
Shortly after that idea for a novel, I had another idea for a business. Not a leave my career business, but a nice side hustle business that would be complimentary to my life after work. Funny how these things all come up like this, fully baked in the mind. It makes you wonder what else is up there between the ears, waiting to be set free. I do know that the reading and thinking and writing all open the trap door, letting ideas out and capturing a few along the way that would otherwise drift on by. The rest is just persistence. Showing up and doing what must be done, today and those tomorrows too. There are plenty of quotes out there from Seth Godin, Tim Ferriss and others about the tremendous value of blogging every day. I’m finding that value compounding, not financially, but in creative output and opportunities that open up from the consistent effort and the openness to receive the world. That’s reason enough to press on, writing today and tomorrow too.
Lately I’ve been re-building lists. Lists of unfinished business I have to get to. Things to see and do, as soon as this other business is over. You might call it a bucket list, but for me I’ll stick with unfinished business. Take a blank map, color in where you’ve been and you quickly see that there’s so much you’ll never see. And that’s okay, I don’t want to see everything, but I do want to see some things. Let’s begin with these.
The Aurora Borealis has long been on this list, dancing just out of reach with the Southern Cross on the far ends of the earth sky. I suppose I’ll get to each eventually, beginning in the north, where I sit, just out of reach, thinking about such things. I blame Crosby, Stills & Nash for sticking the Southern Cross in my head, just as I blame Local Hero for my obsession with the Northern Lights. Remove “blame”, add “credit” if you will.
And then there’s sailing across the Atlantic Ocean (and back again on a southern route). Long list on both sides of the pond, and of course in between. Iceberg spotting in Newfoundland, hoisting a pint at The Brazen Head in Dublin, a fish sandwich on raisin bread at Woody’s in Bermuda, and lately, Christmas in Salzburg and Hallstatt without the throngs of tourists. I definitely have unfinished business in Scotland, beginning with The Quiraing and the sunset at Neist Point and heading south to an immersive distillery tour in Islay. Across the channel and Normandy calls, and then a host of other Sirens scattered about Europe, taunting me; There’s no time to waste, you fool. Don’t worry, other Sirens, I haven’t forgotten you…
Another west coast calls me; Napa and some time with those redwoods, a drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Monteray and Big Sur and a trip inland to Yosemite. There’s something about west coasts that draw me, I suppose. Maybe it’s that restless northeast kid longing to get out there? I’m a sunrise guy (greet the day!), but I do love a good sunset too. I’ll follow the sun and see where it leads me. Perhaps it will lead me to unfinished business in faraway places like Cocos Island and Easter Island and Iguazu Falls in Argentina and Machu Picchu in Peru. I’ve never given you enough attention South America. That’s an omission I hope to remedy, given the chance.
And what of the world beyond? So much unfinished business from Hawaii to the South Pacific to Australia to New Zealand to Asia and India and Africa all stacked up waiting their turn. So much to do, so little time… unfinished business all of it. So let’s get this pandemic behind us, there’s a world to see, and precious little runway to take off. Join me?
I’ve seen the challenges, the ten albums that have influenced me. Such things frustrate me because I don’t want to commit that much of my time to posting daily to social media, yet intrigue me because music is a good chunk of who I am. So in my typical stubborn fashion, I’ll just run with the concept here. Forget the rules! Instead, I’ll honor ten of the many albums I could have chosen, but with live YouTube performances of one (or a medley) of the songs from that album. Why play by someone else’s rules anyway? So here you go, ten albums that have influenced me, in a slightly different way:
Pink Floyd, The Wall
When this album dropped I’d just moved to a new town at the fine age of 13 and was myself dropping into a new school system. The radio played Another Brick In The Wall constantly because it’s catchy and short, just the way radio likes a song. But the gold in this album lies deeper, and in extensive listens. A lot of people point to Dark Side of the Moon or Wish You Were Here as favorites, and I can’t argue either choice, but for me it’s The Wall. I’m sure I could find a Pink Floyd live performance, but since I’m breaking rules let’s go with the version that still blows me away with two other favorites, David Bowie and Eddie Vedder in the 12-12-12: The Concert for Sandy Relief performance:
U2, War
A close second in my formative years was U2 exploding in my world with War. Sure, not their first album, but this was the one that MTV rallied around, especially with that foggy, rainy Live at Red Rocks EP that we’ll call War, part II. U2 picked me up from my awkward teenage years and carried me into my adult life with stepping stone albums from Joshua Tree to All That You Can’t Leave Behind to How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb to No Line On The Horizon to Songs of Experience. All worthy candidates for this list but I’m only picking one per artist. Frankly, I’m wondering why they haven’t been more active during the pandemic rallying the world with a flag. I’ve been lucky enough to see U2 perform this live many times, but there are two performances I wish I’d seen with the sweaty masses, the Super Bowl performance and their Red Rocks performance. Let’s go with flag waving Bono and the youthful band playing the edgy rebel song/not a rebel song Sunday Bloody Sunday:
Eagles, Hotel California
I can remember this album dominating the airwaves back in the 70’s. I was just a kid then, figuring out what I liked, mostly being influenced by whatever I heard playing the most. The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac seemed to be playing the most, carrying Southern California culture to the world. The album is the band at their peak, and it eventually destroyed them, but what a trip. You could make a case for a number of songs for favorite, but I’d be lying if I didn’t come right back to the title track:
Pearl Jam, Ten
If The Wall came at me in a time of massive change at age 13, this album did the same ten years later, as I was out of college and figuring out what next. Next involved finding myself in an impulsive, bad marriage and alone in New York. But there’s a reason for everything. I eventually found my way to a much better life, and this album was a bridge for me across the chasm of crazy I found myself married to. This version of Black resonated particularly well for me during that time:
Beatles, Abbey Road
Everyone who is a Beatles fan has their favorite Beatles album, and mine has always been Abbey Road. I was listening to it constantly when John Lennon was shot, and it shocked me as it shocked the world. The driving force with Abbey Road was Paul McCartney, and the medley was a good example of making something amazing out of a bunch of scraps. But let’s not forget the masterful contributions of George Harrison, my favorite Beatle, with Here Comes The Sun and Something. The album, like me, turned the 50 mark and keeps going. The irony of Come Together being the last song the Beatles recorded isn’t lost on me either, but that medley, capped with The End, is what most people think of when they think of Abbey Road:
Steely Dan, Katie Lied
If one album grabbed me in the middle of my college years, it was Katy Lied. And the song that the title was derived from, Doctor Wu, remains one of my favorite Steely Dan songs. I once dated a girl who loved Steely Dan, and I went out and bought every album they ever made so I could keep up in conversation. I’ll call that my “Steely Dan phase”. Anyway, I never did see them live, and I think it’s because I really like the studio product and don’t want to ruin that. Twisted logic, perhaps, but so it goes.
Jack Johnson, In Between Dreams
Deep into adulthood, I discovered Jack Johnson with his debut album providing a bit of joy in the dark aftermath of 9/11. Deep into marriage, I smile when I hear this song, and like much of the album it remains in constant rotation on playlists well after the album released. Sure, I could have put a Led Zeppelin or Rolling Stones album on here in this spot, but they don’t dominate my playlists the way In Between Dreams has.
Billy Joel, Turnstiles New York State of Mind, Summer, Highland Falls, and I’ve Loved These Days are the foundation of this album, with Say Goodbye to Hollywood being the “hit”. Like others on this list you can make a case for other albums by the artist – certainly The Stranger deserves consideration as the “best” Billy Joel album, but for me, Turnstiles is the one that takes my breath away, and that seems like a good indicator of where it stands on my list. You definitely know you’re listening to a 70’s album when you go deep, but isn’t there charm in that too?
Jimmy Buffett, A-1-A
Yes, I am a pirate, thank you. And a Parrothead too. This is another album that’s charmingly locked in the 70’s, but once you get past A Pirate Looks at Forty and the string of songs that follow (Migration, Trying to Reason With Hurricane Season, Nautical Wheelers and Tin Cup Chalice) remain my favorite block of songs from Buffett on any album. Life is more than angst and anger and melancholy, and there’s nothing like some beach music to get the party started:
Bruce Springsteen, Born To Run
I really started listening to Bruce somewhere in my early teens, with this album and The River dominating my record player for a long time. Born to Run has a restlessness to it that resonated for me then, and does again. Like U2 Springsteen is one of those artists I’ve stayed with through every stage of my life. I particularly love this version of Thunder Road, with a young Springsteen singing a stripped down version in a darkened London venue. You really feel the power of his voice – Bruce is one of the great rock and roll voices, and this performance highlights that:
I’m doing my best to get rid of things, and for the most part I’m making good progress on this front. But we all need those essentials to get through the days, and some of it grows quickly to be your favorite stuff. Anyone who knows me will recognize the tendencies on the following list: work, walk, garden, music and coffee. Shocking? Anyway, here are five things I’ve picked up over the last couple of years that have grown into my favorites:
G-Pack Pro Standing Desk Converter – I’m working from home a lot right now, and candidly I don’t like sitting on my ass all day. It’s not good for you, and that nags at me the longer I’m parked in front of my desk. So this winter before any of us thought we’d be social distancing I purchased this sit/stand desk converter. And I’ve found it to be remarkably easy to use. I simply press a lever, pull the desk up or push it down and I don’t miss a beat in working for hours on end at my old desk, now new again. I have a laptop and monitor on one side and a Mac on the other and it just… works. Wish I’d gotten this thing years ago.
AeroPress Coffee and Espresso Maker – I’ve written about this coffee maker before, and frankly I don’t know what I did without it. Making an entire pot of coffee is wasteful and prompts me to consume more than I should. The AeroPress makes a great cup of coffee, every time, in close [enough] to the time it takes to make a K-cup. And there’s a ritual associated with it similar to making tea that is quite satisfying.
Sony WH-CH700N Noise Cancelling Headphones – Purchased for flights, but really handy in this social distancing world where there’s a conference call happening in the dining room, a class discussion happening on the porch and me listening to tunes between calls in the office. Comfortable, rich sound and immersive.
DeWit Welldone Serrated Trowel – I spoiled myself with this trowel. Feel the heft of it, the quality: This is a lifetime tool, and it makes the ritual of planting a joyful experience with a tactile assurance that it’s up for the task. Gardening is my escape, and I don’t need the distraction of crappy tools when I’m doing it. This trowel is pure bliss.
Merrell Outmost Vent Hiking Shoes – I purchased these shoes to replace another pair of Merrell’s that walked with me in Portugal, Newfoundland, Arizona and moderate trails in New England. The most recent pair have made the trip around Scotland, from Arthur’s Seat to The Storr and Camusdarach Beach. Yesterday afternoon I took a walk in a nearby town forest With trails and ledge wet and muddy from a day of rain. These Merrill’s did the job offering enough reliable traction and water resistance to allow me to focus on other things, like the silent embrace of hundreds of wet hemlocks reminding me that the world will go on.
“I hope you’re haunted by the music of my soul When I’m gone” – Greg Allman, My Only True Friend
There is what feels like a thousand Black-capped Chickadees living in the holly bush next to my deck. They’re the state bird of both neighboring Massachusetts and Maine. New Hampshire, sitting between these two states, opted for the Purple Finch. Don’t tell that to this cast of characters – they don’t much care for state borders and such human concerns. The party never stops in that holly bush. But now and then a solo singer will fly up on a branch somewhere and sing that familiar “fee-bee” song and it transports me back to earlier days. That song’s been playing my entire life.
One of the first things I notice when traveling is the ambiance is different. That’s obvious to everyone when you’re seeing the Eiffel Tower or the Grand Canyon, but close your eyes and listen past the sounds of humanity.. There’s a vibration to any place, a soundtrack playing in the background. Wind, water and trees offer their voice, and of course the local bird population sings their own greatest hits like a house band in a local pub. I’m a bit of a migratory bird myself, stuck in a cage at the moment. But I’ve learned to listen in new places and long for the exhilaration of immersion in faraway places.
With fewer long drives I’m listening to fewer podcasts. I’m reading more, and I’ve grown tired of most of the interviewers I regularly listen to. Instead I favor silence more, or listen to WMVY streaming from Martha’s Vineyard. We all have our greatest hits playing on repeat, but I’ve always sought out new music. WMVY offers music you don’t hear on some corporate iHeart radio station. Respectfully, I prefer to find my own soundtrack. Someday, maybe, I’ll get back to that island. In the meantime I listen to the familiar voices and think about the ferry ride to Vineyard Haven and fried fish and beer at The Newes From America. Island sounds are different from mainland sounds, but for the life of me I’ve lost the sounds beyond the bustle of crowds and the crash of waves. I do need to get re-acquainted, picking up just where we left off like old friends seem to do years between seeing each other.
The music of a place goes beyond the songs played on the local radio station or in the local pub, it includes the buzz of outboard engines or lawn mowers or street sweepers or chain saws off in the distance, of laughter and chatter coming out of open windows, and the birds occupying the local shrubs catching up on local gossip. The place doesn’t hope you’ll remember it, it just keeps on going as it always has, so long as humanity doesn’t bulldoze it all away anyway. I suppose Greg Allman was thinking about his legacy in the lyrics of this song. We all hope we’ll be remembered in our own way. I write and let it all fall out the way it may. Mostly it’s a familiar record I might return to someday. Like fond memories, revisited.
I believe I’ve held onto this post long enough. I think it’s time to release this bird from its cage.
I’m reflecting on the places I’ve been to instead of the ones I can’t get to at the moment. One place that every tourist seems to go to is the London Eye. And so too I made my way into one of the pods last November for my own check on the tourist checklist. Opened to the public in 2000 to coincide with the new millennium, it also goes by the name Millennium Eye. According to Wikipedia, it’s “the most popular paid tourist attraction in the United Kingdom with over 3.75 million visitors annually”. It was once the tallest Ferris Wheel in the world but has fallen to fourth place on the list. That might be true, but I don’t have a burning desire to go on the other three ahead of it. The London Eye has a certain charm the others haven’t earned. Location helps, of course, but there’s also a level of cultural history the London Eye has spun through that makes it feel more timeless than its twenty years.
It takes 30 minutes to make the trip around, and that feels about right to me. It’s slow enough that you can take your time getting a picture but fast enough that you aren’t getting restless. I took the ride with some random strangers and some close family. It’s interesting to experience the trip through other’s eyes, one very uncomfortable with heights who chose to stay right on the bench in the middle, the rest of us walking about to the edges of the glass pod looking around at seemingly all of London. Circling slowly to the highest point, you’re struck by the magnificence of the city around you, and the beauty of the Thames River as it flows below. It’s worth the money to experience this, and I’m grateful that I went.
March was the 20th birthday for the London Eye. It sits empty for the first time since it opened. Tough way to celebrate your birthday, I’d say. By my math, there have been roughly 75 million passengers in that time. That’s a lot of souls spinning around in that bit of sky. Mine amongst them. It’s a staggering statistic, and one the architects and engineers who built this magnificent machine can point to with pride. The experience was just as amazing for me in year 19 1/2 as it was for the first passengers in 2000. A chance to fly above the city, marveling at it all. But I took some of that time in our glass pod in the sky to examine this extraordinary structure supporting us on our slow turn. This amazing time machine of glass and steel and wondering, wandering souls collectively awestruck for two decades and counting. Surely a generous share of awe must be given to the London Eye?
For my next trip around the sun, if I may be so presumptuous, I’ll try harder to meet the Aurora Borealis on its terms. Maybe finally catch those evasive Northern Lights, I really do need to meet up with them this time around. I’ll travel again to faraway places. Places previously unknown to me that caught my imagination in a travel article or a book. Places that Google street view hasn’t posted online. I know these places are out there, I’ve tried in vain to reach them with a mouse before.
For my next trip around the sun, if good fortune should shine upon me, I’ll rest a hand on the trunk of a Sequoioideae, but first I’ll learn how to spell it without copy and paste. I once spent a week within an hour’s drive of Redwood National Forest and never bothered to go visit. Some excuse about work, I suppose. I don’t recall that mattering in the end anyway. Touching a redwood tree and looking up to the sky would have mattered far more.
For my next trip around the sun, if the stars align and I make the full trip, I’m going to celebrate the graduation of my first born and prepare for the graduation of my second born. The world has changed in ways that seemed fictional not too long ago, and presents challenges that you and your generation will rise up to meet. I hope my generation and my parents generation does the same and you have something to build on. The world isn’t fair, we all know that, but a few generations collaborating on solutions to the world’s problems seems a logical next step. The world is ready for non-violent transformation. Will it begin with now?
For my next trip around the sun, should I be so bold, I’ll strive more. Strive for more meaningful contributions, strive for more engagement in conversation, strive to be more disciplined in the food and drink I take in, strive to be more consistent with the daily habits that make a difference today and for however many trips around the sun you have left. We all know what we should do, how many do it? I strive to do it this time around the sun. You know I’ll write about it, so feel free to poke and prod me should I fall behind.
For my next trip around the sun, if it should come to pass, I’ll savor more. Savor the sounds and sights and smells that make up the moments of the day. Sip a little slower, chew a little more, slow down just enough, look up from the phone and see what’s happening around you. Savor the time passing by instead of grabbing it tighter and watching it escape anyway, like beach sand in a tight fist. Savor the long walks and the long talks and the short moments that catch your breath.
For my next trip around the sun, should the gods look down upon my favorably, I’ll look up more. Look up at the sky to track our progress over the next year. Look up old friends you don’t talk to nearly enough. Look up at the stars and learn to identify them by the way they align with other stars from our unique perspective in the universe. Look out, up and out again as the sun rises, warms the skin and the earth around you and drops down again below the horizon, as we all must do eventually. And so you begin another trip around the sun. Where will it take you?
“Anything that is alive is in a continual state of change and movement. The moment that you rest, thinking that you have attained the level you desire, a part of your mind enters a phase of decay.” – Robert Greene, Mastery
Change is constant, and so must we be constantly embracing change. I’m grateful for the places I’ve been, for the things I’ve done, because if I hadn’t done them I might never have gotten to them. The pandemic has highlighted this for many people, I suppose. The world has changed massively in a short amount of time. Can we ever go back to what we were before? God, I hope not. So many sleepwalking through life, so much apathy. We have to live with urgency before we run out of our aliveness.
I have friends currently anchored off a small island in Puerto Rico weighing their next move. They would tell you everything they initially planned has been upended by circumstances. They started later than they wanted because some critical work on their boat took longer than anticipated. They spent unexpected time in Bermuda because of weather. And now a combination of timing a weather window and global reaction to a pandemic has them waiting to finally weigh anchor and move again. But despite the strange twists of fate, to have begun when they did meant everything. Had they waited just one more year they might never have started. Might never have seen all they’ve seen. Learned all that they’ve learned about themselves and the world. To have started made all the difference.
There are days when the writing is a struggle, when I want to just take one day off, but I write anyway and get something out of it. It’s hard to write about travel and my experiences in the world when I’m not traveling and experiencing the world. But you know that too. We all do now. These are my own plans upended by circumstances, and I’ve embraced the changes and learned more about myself along the way. I’m nowhere near where I wanted to be at this point in my writing, but I’m much farther along than I might have been had I not started, and had I not kept going despite it all.
This pandemic will end at some point. We’ll all be transformed by it. But it will end and the world will shift into some state of new normal. That will be our own weather window to weigh anchor and get on with the business of living. Will we sail for new harbors, embracing the changes in our lives, or will we cling to the safe and familiar? There’s only one path to growth, to being alive, and our weather window is all too brief. Clearly we must weigh anchor, in spite of it all.
Today the feeling stirred up and washed over me in a wave. An eagerness to explore old places, brought on by reading about historic events 350 years ago. I get like this. Really, that’s where this blog started, and will return again when the world returns to normal and I’m up to the task. Anyway, I was sparked with inspiration and wanted to jump in my car and drive immediately to old battle sites and places of significance that I’ve largely ignored until this feeling flushed the indifference away. I’m eager to get to it already. Damn you COVID-19.
This is my history geek version of spring fever, this stirring, this desire to get out and see things with my own eyes rather than rely on history books and Wikipedia. It makes me appreciate the freedom of movement I’ve had for most of my life. For many people around the world this freedom of movement isn’t available. I’m grateful for the odd assortment of ancestors and events that plopped me down in this place, in this time, with relative good health and a small dose of usable intelligence to productively exist and to peacefully coexist with others.
I can’t responsibly travel far, but I can travel locally and maintain appropriate social distancing. And I know the perfect places to visit – those nearby graveyards and old burial grounds. Those who came before aren’t carrying COVID-19, and they’re safely maintaining a six foot boundary from me anyway. There are lessons in graveyards, some of which I’ve explored before on this blog. Graveyards offer their own version of travel in the form of time travel. There are plenty of stories close to home engraved on those headstones, and the land itself is largely the way it’s been for as long as the graveyard has existed. I need to be outside more, and those permanent residents need a few more respectful visitors. A win-win it seems to me. And a sure cure for spring fever.
So with that in mind I took a walk in the light, cold rain half a mile down the road to a graveyard occupied by people buried here during the early 1800’s to about 1885 or so, or put another way, roughly during the lifetime of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Maybe he knew someone buried here, but the 27 miles between that graveyard and Concord, Massachusetts might as well have been a thousand miles back then. These were farmers, blacksmiths and sawmill workers around here, they weren’t making the trek to Concord or Boston for Emerson lectures. They’d marvel at my quick ’round trips to places that they’d walk all day to get to. And mock me my complaints about not being able to roam freely in these times. They knew far worse than this. I can’t argue that point, thinking to myself as I took my iPhone out to snap a picture I’d upload with this post. Technological leaps they never could have imagined in their time on our side of the turf. Maybe I needed that reminder today. It’s always good to get the neighbor’s perspective on things.
“And as I watch the drops of rain Weave their weary paths and die I know that I am like the rain There but for the grace of you go I” – Simon & Garfunkel, Kathy’s Song
These lyrics were highlighted for me by a young lady I met when I was 19 and figuring things out. I’ve never forgotten them, though I haven’t spoke to her in years. She married a friend of mine. I don’t recall being invited to their wedding. So it goes. The lyrics remain with me, even if the person that brought them to me is a distant memory. But isn’t that the way with so many moments in our lives? People punctuate the moment, and then they’re on to other things, or maybe you are. Life is a series of such moments built on one another. I have the entire soundtrack of Simon & Garfunkel’s greatest hits permanently engrained in my brain from a constant cycle of flipping the cassette tape back when people bought cassette tapes. Sure, everyone knows Mrs. Robinson and Bridge Over Troubled Water and The Sounds of Silence. All classics. but deep into the night when everyone else was sleeping I carried on with The Boxer, America and Kathy’s Song. Years later, they remain my highlights in the Simon & Garfunkel catalog.
Kathy’s Song was the one that seized my attention and truthfully hasn’t let go, beginning with the lyrics:
“And a song I was writing is left undone I don’t know why I spend my time Writing songs I can’t believe With words that tear and strain to rhyme”
Damn it Paul, I know how you feel. We all work on things we can’t believe, that tear us apart inside. I’m with you now… and he doubles down with with the next verse:
“And so you see I have come to doubt All that I once held as true I stand alone without beliefs The only truth I know is you”
Followed by “And as I watch the drops of rain” and the rest, ending in perfection with There but for the grace of you go I... And I’ve been trying to write a line as beautiful as that ever since. I was a teenager when the song was brought to my attention by an old soul in a young body passing through my life. People come and go in our lives, but sometimes as they pass through they plant a little seed that takes root in our soul.
