I’ve developed an affinity for Tuesdays. I was born on a Tuesday, but that’s not the reason for my affection. For a while now I’ve been paying attention to Tuesdays, and each one seems to offer up an interesting twist, a little magic. Let’s take this week’s Tuesday for example:
My day began with the song Lungs by Townes Van Zandt. Take the time to listen:
A song of sadness and truth, it is both haunting and beautiful. While listening, I felt alone, beautifully alone, but beautiful in a sad way, like the song. Wanting to prolong my wallowing, I continued listening to a string of country tunes. I remembered my Dad warning that songs reminiscent of the good times would bring pain in time. My Dad and I used to listen to music together—Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Hank Snow— and have a few beers. We would often cry a little too, but our tears came out of joy; it was beautiful. In his old age, after his stroke, my Dad stopped listening, it was too painful. Today I cried for my father, for his pain, and because I am lonely without him. I spent a good part of this Tuesday morning listening, crying, and being present.
Strangely, it had a welcomed bitter sweetness to it.
It wasn’t much later that this, Tom Waits reading my favourite Bukowski poem, was presented to me (take the time to listen):
Again, I was presented with men who see the beauty in sadness, the light in the darkness. Such beautiful words. I took those words with me out into the forest, felt the light, and it felt good.
I returned from the woods to partake in a global meditation, an event that takes place on each full moon. Its purpose is to direct love and positive healing energy out into the world. It was my second time participating, and each time its affect on me has been remarkably powerful. I felt love, it was energizing and healing. You can find it here:
This is me ‘knowing my life’, letting the light in, on a Tuesday.
Stay tuned, I’ll let you know what I find next Tuesday.