Same as it ever was . . .
I had one of those poor-pitiful-me spates of feeling the time was just flipping by too dang fast today, so turned to trusty ol' Google to try to find what my memory wouldn't cough up in a hurry, that Talking Heads video about the futility of our Western way of life, or whatever it was about, that's haunted (and amused) me for some years. But I couldn't remember the name of the group or the song, or any of the lyrics. Putting in "Eighties Rock Music," and checking down the list of the first site I came to, I quickly found Talking Heads and equally quickly found a copy of the video.
What always worked for me with this song was the undercurrent of the water running underground - from archetypal/Jungian work, it's been my image of the Unconscious, which is the source of being/consciousness itself, as well as the source of all creativity.
This is a concert version rather than the original music video - I've enabled the privacy setting.
This evening's hour of journal writing - which is always good for me - and also finding, through a link to the first T.H. video, a blog by a young woman who writes against violence (and just today linked to a disturbing, recently-released MIA video imagining a fascist state rounding up and killing red-headed young men) - I'm feeling somewhat better about life, the universe, and everything. Pushing 60 doesn't need to mean, as it did for my very much loved grandmother, giving up on everything I've ever dreamed about and imploding to late-in-life cancer. There are spiritual and intellectual and imaginative adventures (and works) still before me.
But it's also the case that hanging onto any fantasy of Making A Big Difference in the world is increasingly obvious as a big waste of time.
The Shaker hymn has it right: by turning, turning, we come round right.
Back to where we began, to know it truly for the first time. Which is in my case, an arid land of mountains and sagebrush. (A big contrast to this rainy, rainy Minnesota green dripping place these past weeks.)
When the rain started (again) tonight, I had a series of quick memories of rainstorms coming through my mountain city in my girlhood, which was often a blessing - the drama of the building stormclouds, the echoes rocking back and forth, and lashing rain, and the cleansed, sparkling, cooled-down freshness after the storm had blown itself out. These could come and go in an hour's time. It always made me feel excited and secure, at the same time, summer storms. None of the endless stickiness of this high humidity.
Perhaps I need to do some digging back and find the day-dreaming, hopeful girl I was (and still am), so I can ask the question: where do I want to go, with the arc of years ahead of me?
8 comments:
Wonderful post.
I say let serendipity be your mantra.
It's the little differences that add up - we all can make those.
Great post Mary Ellen. Having turned 60 just a few months ago I know where you are at. I still plan to live fully but I am also withdrawing somewhat from the world stage. My mother, on the other hand, when she turned 60, declared she was now old as some sort of excuse to be selfish (as if she hadn't been before but now all pretense ended) and basically, she stopped living. When you stop living you stop having fun. I plan to have fun to the end of my days.
Thanks for the TH video. I enjoyed it. Never saw them in concert but I really liked their music. Husband tells me David Byrne has a new CD out (or coming out).
I enjoyed the reflection in this. I'm glad that you still want to embrace the world and hope that you continue to tell us about what you do in it.
thanks fo this video. I have never heard the TH before but have heard my daughters speak of them. I quite enjoyed it and the message. It seems as we reach each milestone we have to re-evaluate our ideas on what we can achieve. On turning 70 I realized that I kept myself in a constant state of stress and anxiety about pushing myself to do things and needed to let some things go because they weren't realistic. Too much mind clutter. We really are pressured to think we have to do so much, especially as women. For me looking closer to home to make a difference was important, like helping my neighbours rather than thinking globally. When I reached 60 it felt like this huge relief that the pressure was off and I didn't need to TRY so hard and could just be myself. There is so much a person can do when the pressures of society, work, etc are taken away it's a great time of self-exploration.
Mary Ellen, this is amazing. For years and years I've searched for the first music video I ever saw, and haven't been able to find it. I could SEE it, but didn't have a clue. Now I know - it's early Talking Heads, and it's called Stay Up Late. It's just funny - you might enjoy it, even though it isn't related at all to your post.
I enjoyed the reference to Eliot, and understand that sense of arriving at a new, perhaps less frenzied place in life. At nearly 64 now, my time sense is greatly warped by having a 92 year old mum still living in her own home. But I can guarantee you that 60 isn't the end of the road!
I do find myself thinking from time to time, "I have maybe 20 good years left. What am I going to do with them?" Seen from that perspective, every minute seems more precious - I find myself making real decisions about how to use those minutes. I've tossed out my tv and left facebook to get along without me. Who knows what will be next?
Thank you for sharing this video! I felt a shift in my energy when I entered into my thirties. I can only imagine the perspective as other decades reach me...
I say keep dreaming, keep creating, keep living.
I so enjoyed this post ... it really reflects where I am in my life right now. Thanks!
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