nyj74: wistful now, no foolin'


You know those scenes in movies where they pull away from a character, and let you see them sitting or riding or living somehow, but thinking, more than anything? I'm in one of those places now. Wistful sequence of tunes tonight, thanks to iTunes and the random mode:

Nina Simone, "I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl"
Robert Cray, "Right Next Door (Because of Me)"
Harry Connick Jr. "Do You Know (What It's like to Miss New Orleans)"

I guess they all touch on that place between sheer misery, and life working out how you want to. A place closer to happiness, really, but felt in those moments when it's still so your soul can feel all the falling-short alongside the pretty-good ... and somehow be content. Tonight I think it's because I finally ate after spending most of the day with scant food besides two lattes. My body hits this panic sometimes, when I don't eat right and the fridge and cupboards are little help. I don't even really know it, fully, till I finally eat and feel the calm ebb through my system as the food starts to digest. We're gonna make it after all. We're not die ... tonight.

When I used to live in Phoenix, such moments sometimes hit while flying down the freeway in the dark, in my little red death-trap Geo, all the lights of the city to right or left (depending on whether I was coming or going from friends and plans that night). There was a strange sense of peace in the space and the speed and the fragility of life unpierced despite the uncertain future. We're gonna make it home or there or wherever after all. We're not gonna die in this car ... tonight.

The funny thing is, if I ever marry, I'm sure there will be nights when instead of feeling the wistful space inside I usually do, I'll miss those wistful moments all alone with my belly now calmed or then in my car! Those days before kids and a life where you can't just check out or slack off or sleep in because you feel like it — 'cause you can't now.

But one thing will stay constant, I think: my joy at hearing songs like "Come By Me." And that's a good thing. Perhaps it's something like Paul's claim in Philippians that he had learned to be content in plenty and in want: I've learned to love the music both in solitude and company. Whether sharing my joy with God or the children I still hope I'll have, I can rejoice in this life I live moment by moment. (Not to say I'm happy about the big, leggy bug I just failed to squash on my floor ... but peaceful for the most part.)

posted @ 09:13 PM on Sat - April 1, 2006 remark! Email |  as quoted:
before I said ...  but more recently: 

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