"Contained in Everything I Do
There's a love I feel for you
Proclaimed in everything I write
You're the light, burning brightly
Onward through the night
Onward through the night of my life."
- Onward , "Yes', C. Squire
“We were talking, about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul Then you may find, peace of mind, is waiting there And the time will come when you see we're all one,
And life flows on within and without
you”
- Within Without You, G. Harrison
"You say that emotions are overrated.Emotions are all we've got."
- Mick, "Youth"
Someone once suggested that that light at the end of this long meandering up and down tunnel doesn’t get any smaller with the passage of time. At what point did that original innocence fade from view behind us? What is it that tries and sometimes succeeds to dampen that once holy flame of enthusiasm? Where did that trusted lifelong companion go? Was there a specific voice that encouraged or tempted me to take that one specific path and he another? How is it that some continue to hold the hands of a loved one while others feel they need to traverse every step alone? Are we quick to forget the power of touch? Are we quick to forget the simple songs? Were not the simple songs all we have? Can we keep our heads up and hearts opened as we move onward through the night of our lives?
- Mick, "Youth"
Someone once suggested that that light at the end of this long meandering up and down tunnel doesn’t get any smaller with the passage of time. At what point did that original innocence fade from view behind us? What is it that tries and sometimes succeeds to dampen that once holy flame of enthusiasm? Where did that trusted lifelong companion go? Was there a specific voice that encouraged or tempted me to take that one specific path and he another? How is it that some continue to hold the hands of a loved one while others feel they need to traverse every step alone? Are we quick to forget the power of touch? Are we quick to forget the simple songs? Were not the simple songs all we have? Can we keep our heads up and hearts opened as we move onward through the night of our lives?
No
thing lasts forever does it? Some trees fall more quickly than others. Broken
barren branches, remnants of a glory that once was, are now strewn across the
field and is fuel for the next pilgrim along the way eventually becoming ashes
to nurture the earth where that roaming fire had burned through the days and
nights. Some giving-trees seem to continue to grow strong and grand with
seasonal rebirth. Others are cut down in their prime becoming trunks of rest
for tired worn out pilgrims. Still, other trees perpetuate constant leaves as
shade source of freedom for launching for Frost boys swinging as they lean
towards heaven. He prayed that he could be one of those branches on a tree of
Merton.
His
meditation “There is no fear for my own last day but the heart trembles with
the slightest consideration of the passing of the one’s I love and for the last
breath of those who may have loved me. “
The
purest innocence of babies and youth at honest play; the intoxicating freedom
discovered in boundless music; the presence of love, and the egoless carefree resilience
of an uncorrupted authenticity are what we need to keep spirits alive while
making way in our time worn weathered vessels. Listen to the larger voices
calling and suddenly consideration that all this is just coincidence and
strictly chance - is proven
to be naïve.
___________________________________________________________
Birches
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of
straighter darker trees,
I like to think some
boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't
bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do.
Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a
sunny winter morning
After a rain. They
click upon themselves
As the breeze rises,
and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks
and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's
warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and
avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken
glass to sweep away
You'd think the
inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to
the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to
break; though once they are bowed
So low for long,
they never right themselves:
You may see their
trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards,
trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands
and knees that throw their hair
Before them over
their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to
say when Truth broke in
With all her
matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to
have some boy bend them
As he went out and
in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far
from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was
what he found himself,
Summer or winter,
and could play alone.
One by one he
subdued his father's trees
By riding them down
over and over again
Until he took the
stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung
limp, not one was left
For him to conquer.
He learned all there was
To learn about not
launching out too soon
And so not carrying
the tree away
Clear to the ground.
He always kept his poise
To the top branches,
climbing carefully
With the same pains
you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and
even above the brim.
Then he flung
outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down
through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself
a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of
going back to be.
It's when I'm weary
of considerations,
And life is too much
like a pathless wood
Where your face
burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it,
and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having
lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away
from earth awhile
And then come back
to it and begin over.
May no fate
willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what
I wish and snatch me away
Not to return.
Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where
it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by
climbing a birch tree,
And climb black
branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no
more,
But dipped its top
and set me down again.
That would be good
both going and coming back.
One could do worse
than be a swinger of birches.
-
Robert Frost
You
Got the love ( Intro scene to the movie “Youth”)
Onward
- Mark Kozelek , (Youth)
Just
- D. Lang (Youth)
Simple
Song #3 – D. Lang (Youth)
Youth
– The Movie Trailer
For a member of the band….
“One
day I will find the right words and they will be simple”
- Jack Kerouac
“The
only truth is music”
- Jack Kerouac
Copyright All Rights Reserved 2017 JF Sobecki LLC
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