My boyfriend was joking with me the other day, and said, “It’s up to you to start the next revolution.” I laughed at the ridiculous idea, and then considered that revolutions start small. Just like the revolution that gave us our country. It was started by simple, brave people who wanted to live in a fair and just society. So let’s start a revolution of our own. A revolution to bring back humanity, kindness, and generosity. Let’s commit ourselves to being of service to each other in any way we can. Let’s stop fighting about how to help, or why to help, or who’s job it is to help, and just begin. Let’s start talking to each other at the grocery store instead of looking at our phones in the check out line. Let’s stop swearing at each other for driving 5mph under the speed limit. Let’s stop worrying about how to make our lives the most epic life ever lived, and think about how to make someone else’s life epic. Let’s take pictures of our loved ones instead of selfies. Let’s reconnect as communities, and families and start talking again. It’s time.
Wish We’d Stay is kind of an abstract song about the different personas that come and go from our lives, both internally, and in our relationships. It’s a song about appreciating the beauty in our loved ones while we have them, and letting go until we meet again in another life.
Stay with me is a song about sticking it out no matter what. Through forgiveness, through anger, through blood, sweat, and tears. Until the deep and final days.
For so many years, I’ve felt as if I were driving tired. That feeling when you’ve been driving for too long, and the road starts to get blurry, and you wish with every fiber of your exhausted being that you could close your eyes just for a little while. But you can’t because if you do, even for a second, you’ll die. The car will run off the road, and flip over, and everything you love and cherish will disappear into a fiery wreck. You crave the relief of letting go of the massive weight of struggling to keep going. You crave the arms of the one you love around you, and even though you haven’t found each other yet, you know exactly what they feel like…I wrote this song when I met a man who made me feel like it was finally OK to close my eyes. His arms around me felt exactly like the invisible ones I knew existed somewhere, all my life.
When I was a teenager, I walked into the kitchen to find my dad painstakingly pitting individual red cherries and putting them in a bowl to bring up to my mom. She hadn’t asked for them. He was just doing it. He looked up at me with a smile and said, “this is love.” I never forgot it. This is the song I wrote about it. <— click here.