You sing the blues to lose the blues. You lift the burden by transferring it into a song. I’ll be damned if I know why or how that miracle takes place, but it always does.
—Willy Nelson, in his memoir, It’s a Long Story
I came across this quote the other day, and I immediately ordered Nelson’s memoir from audible.com.
I laughed because the quote was so well said, and because it reminds me of Jeremy in the comic Zits. Among other things Jeremy is in a band, and he occasionally complains that his life is too easy — he’s been cheated of the painful experiences needed to become a great musician.
That, in turn, reminds me of one of my very favorite book titles, Legacy of the Heart: The Spiritual Advantage of a Painful Childhood by Wayne Muller. The book itself is not one of my favorites, but the title captures the idea of honoring our experiences, even the painful ones. Instead of thinking in terms of emotional baggage, something to be gotten rid of, try to see the treasures in the experiences and transform them into something deep, meaningful and empowering.
I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.
—Duke Ellington
August 21, 2015
Interesting term, emotional baggage. Although it’s generally taken to mean a burden, a nuisance, something you could do without, real-life baggage is in fact chock-full of useful and necessary things. Just as Wayne Muller suggests.
I never thought of the term that way. Thanks.
I have a friend who sometimes says he’s been brainwashed by his family and society. My view is we were given a rough draft, it was our job to do the revisions. I would have missed a lot if I hadn’t taken responsibility for myself.
oh i love the duke.
what a totally elegant man.
that quote just hits the mark in its simplicity as a metaphor for life.
it has always been interesting to me … how some people drag their sordid past around with them… wearing it almost like a cloak they never take off.
and others manage to shrug it off and get on with life. and usually a better life at that.
and thus the mystery. it must be the same possibility for everyone…
but not everyone is able to find the key to doing it i guess.
even with the early loss of both parents… i was so lucky to have had a happy childhood. it’s far more important than we know… perhaps until we’re grown do we realize how very lucky indeed.
vicki … in australia… often comments on my blog and is one of my dearest friends. we began blogging together at the same time actually.
she was terribly abused as a child. and has talked a little about it only very occasionally on her posts … nothing to excess. she just doesn’t dwell on it.
she says ‘it simply happened.’
and now… here she is a beautiful prolific and successful artist …
she’s happily married. and a fantastic mother to a talented son.
she obviously found the key!
Well said! Thank you.
I think that I am like Jeremy. My problems with my father started when I was in my teenage stage, and no, it had nothing to do with me! Really!! Otherwise, my late teens and post teens life just moved me along. And having moved on it did not affect me in any way till much later in life when he reappeared in it. I have written enough about that, but that too passed!
Willy Nelson’s memoirs seems to be interesting. I will explore.
Fortunately you seem to have done all right in spite of being under-deprived.
yet again, it this seems to link to memories and values – which of course often lead to experiences. Whether that was yesterday, decades ago or simply has not arrived…
I suspect as well, many experiences we have endured haven’t particularly resonated with us then or are even something we keenly remember.
I remember a trip I took to my home town when I was probably in my early 50s with my brother. I said we need about a week, he said “no probably a day and a bit” – I looked at him strangely because I remembered home town as being huge…
Yep, we did over actual town in less than a day & the next day we went out to my parents old farm – took the loop back which went past his old farm….
One of things I saw on his farm loop was how narrow the road was in places and I thought the school bus must have struggled. He said all parents knew not to go out, driving when bus was negotiating the narrow / bends places
Going back must have been some experience. And that must have been some narrow road for the school bus!
well……………
I think that I might actually disagree with Tammy for the first time ever.
Or maybe I’m interpreting her words incorrectly.
I think that maybe Vicki says “it simply happened” as a way of letting it trickle out. Just like her posts where she occasionally mentions her childhood.
It’s like ever so slightly letting a controllable stream out a faucet rather turning it on full force and letting the gush over the sink and ruin the floor.
Yep, just letting a bit out a time and dealing with it.
Or maybe not.
Who am I to say? Tammy has known Vicki much much longer than I.
I guess it’s because I myself don’t remember a lot of my childhood.
My sister will talk about something and only then will I see it in my minds eye.
Or worse yet, like the time she gave me a photo that she remembered as a happy time, because she was too young to know better, and all I could see was sadness and illness….
Jeez, that hurt to type that memory.
I need to be very careful with my own faucet and what I allow myself to remember.
But…Yes, some day I hope to be able to let go of that burden and transfer it into a book.
I think that blogging has helped me tremendously to get closer to that goal, to let it trickle out.
So I guess I think there are 3 kinds of people.
One who wears that cloak, one who shrugs it off and another who ever so slowly lets it drop to the floor.
But hey! the positive spin on the whole thing is it definitely gives a person something to use, whether it’s for a song, a book, a painting or a purpose to their life or someone else’s better.
You might like a couple of books by Louise DeSalvo. One is Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives,
and the other is Vertigo: A Memoir.
In spite of my eyes I’m starting to gradually read the memoir.
We’re rooting for you!