Skip to main content

The Living Years

 I’m not sure if this will resound with anyone but being a bit of a music and lyrics junkie/tragic I often find inspiration from songs so I thought I would share some of them with my friends. Scroll on by if it doesn’t. Here’s the first from “In the Living Years”

Every generation

Blames the one before

And all of their frustrations

Come beating on your door…


… So don't yield to the fortunes

You sometimes see as fate

It may have a new perspective

On a different day

And if you don't give up, and don't give in

You may just be okay… 


You know how the rest goes … 


I’ve been doing a lot of beating on that door this week. I’ve been doing my fair share of blaming: Oh my goodness! I have been angry at the world; at Presidents and Prime Ministers and corrupt politicians and aaaaalllll the people I don’t even know who’ve played a part in my feelingstuckwithoutanycontrolandjustmadashellness, and I’ve even been mad as hell at Brené Brown even though I carry her book in my bag and listen to all her inspiring talks! I want so much not to feel like spewing and spitting and kicking the shit out of people who have just the “right” words all the time but the truth is I just want to be angry and yell at whoever caused this shit but …


When I have saner moments, when I see a sparrow at my feet asking for a few crumbs of my biscuit; when I teach a ballet class and real humans actually turn up and try really hard to do stupid and often very challenging exercises because they too have to have an outlet for this frustration; when I catch a stranger’s eyes connecting with mine and lighting up over the top of their mask, it gives me a tiny thread of hope that maybe, just for today, I will be ok. We will be ok. We will get through this … today … 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Nighttime Solitude

  Nighttime Solitude A lone peafowl pines plaintively across the darkened land Perhaps to call a mate or warn of passing danger But, I, a stranger do not understand For there are stranger sounds here where the darkened blossoms fall  A whispered footfall of a bushbuck shy, Nearby an owl hoo hoos and Who knows why for I a stranger to this night song of the frogs that sing And silent flight of night bird on the wing  I am a stranger to this safety in the dark  I blow the embers of the fire I made to keep the spark To fan the flame beneath the last log’s coal to burn more brightly For tomorrow I return to home and  Noisy cars and sirens nightly And to sorrow But for now I’ll sit a little longer by this tiny hearth The embers bright Competing only with Moon’s dappled light upon the appled earth And remember all the things I loved and love  put away the sorrow and the sadness for tonight  And ponder in the solitude that  Nighttime isn’t dark It’s just ...

The Apple Cart

The Apple Cart  We were the offspring of the Volksie generation The Nestum cherubs of the Baby Boom Nylon, terelyne, lurex and spandex  All mixed in with a trip to the moon In our DNA the early rumblings  Of human division we did not understand But soon we learnt the language of survival Was written in the palms Of our sticky little hands So off we marched with our Crayola rifles While Dorothy Fisher got a brand new heart We coloured in pictures of the man on the moon And took a Giant Leap onto the apple cart Great big apples. Fresh and juicy More than enough for and more to spare We ate and ate until our bellies ached And still there were apples enough to share Which was quite fun until somebody said: “Hey! These rules aren’t right. Something’s wrong” So, some of the kids were allowed up on the cart While some other kids had to trundle along Behind the apple cart picking up the apple cores Thrown down by the kids...
  The Sapling So long we waited  And the time is here  At last A southern wind has blown  The sapling from the vast and distant shore And has returned it full and grown  Home to its root once more The soil rejoices as it feels the quiver of his tread The soil where once he fed Which bled when long ago the little seed took flight And had to fight to grow in foreign land And learn to understand another way But for today  The sapling will drink thirstily and long  And for today he’ll grow Where he belongs