Musings: Playlists, Self-Worth, & Choosing the Harder Path

I've had a challenging few days emotionally. I thought I would share two songs that have been on Repeat on my iPod the past few days, and some thoughts they inspired while I was writing this post (which, as so often happens, is completely different than its original, intended form). Follow along after the jump.

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band: "Backstreets"

First is an utterly devestating performance of his greatest (to me) song.

I've l listened to "Backstreets" hundreds of times over the years. I often wondered about Terry, and whether she even cared about the narrator, or his heartache over her betrayal (because that's what "Backstreets" is about: betrayal). 

Now that I'm older I know the answer:

No. 

She didn't. 

Not then. 

Not ever.

Springsteen knows it too; just listen to his palpable anguish, beginning at 9:45. Absolutely shattering; he is audibly crying as the song ends. 

As am I. Every. Single. Time.

But the story isn't just about the betrayal.

It's about carrying on, even after your heart is torn apart.

It's about facing the darkness, and confronting it head on. 

It's about looking into the abyss, alone.

It's about willing yourself to move forward.

On your own.

Not retreating to false, temporary solace. 

Be it in a bottle. 

Or bitterness. 

Or sex.

How?

By choosing, to quote a Bruce Cockburn song I so often turn to for inspiration, "to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight."

One minute at a time.

One hour at a time.

One day at a time.

By expressing yourself, in whatever way you choose - a song; a poem; a story; even, perhaps, a blog post. Because unlike people, it never betrays your trust. And it's always there when you need it most.

Every. Single. Time.

And in doing so, you gradually come to realize that all along someone has been there.

The one person whom you learn to trust.

To know loves you unconditionally.

Every. Single. Time.

Every. Single. Day.

Yourself.

Chris Smither, a great New Orleans songwriter now based in Boston, says it best, in his song "No Love Today." It's sung from two perspectives: first a heartbroken protagonist (presumably Chris when he was younger), then a wise vegetable cart salesman from his youth. 

He first lists all of the things he can offer young Chris - and then what he cannot:

I got banana, watermelon

Peaches by the pound

Sweet corn, mirleton

Mo' better than in town

I got okra

Enough to choke ya

And beans of every kind

If hungry is what's eatin' you 

I'll sell you peace of mind

Oh, but this ain't what you came to hear me say

And I hate to disappoint you

But I got no love today

I got no love today

I got no love today

No love today

Then he imparts some hard-won wisdom:

No love today, none tomorrow

Not now, not forever

You can't see what comes for free

I think you much too clever

For your own good I will tell you

What's right before your eyes

Intelligence is no defense

Against what this implies

In the end no one can sell you what you need

You can't buy it off the shelf

You got to grow it from the seed

The answer Terry, and so many others, seek has always been there.

And always will be there.

But knowing that is one thing. 

Choosing to take that longer, harder path, though, and to eschew the easier path, be it sex, liquor, and so on, is another.

Whether they choose to or not is up to them.

You can try to help them. But you can't do it for them.

That is the lesson I've learned the hard way this year:

You really do have to grow it from the seed.