battle cry
This has been a rough week. The past several mornings, I’ve woken up with one dominating thought: “I am a failure.”
I won’t go into all the ways I feel a failure, or the probable reasons why. ‘Cos I know it isn’t true. I know it’s ridiculous. But knowing alone doesn’t eradicate the thought, because it’s less a thought than an emotion. An irrational and intensely strong feeling, twisted and toxic, it does not merely oppress but actively attacks my mind. And the affliction spreads from soul to body: tension courses through taut muscles, a physical pressure crushes my chest and arms. It takes concentrated effort even to stand. The very nature of this struggle, that I am divided against myself, seems to confirm the original fallacy. If I have not failed yet, I will fail soon. Is this division not an illness of spirit (the flawed logic goes), and is an ill and broken spirit not a sign of failure, in that it fails to be whole?
How do I fight such a battle?
After prayer (and sometimes, I am ashamed to admit, before it), the best weapon I know is music. For me, no other human invention can so directly strike to the heart of emotion, so quickly redirect its course. Most of the time, it is pure music I am interested in. I avoid the potential baggage of lyrics, well-intentioned though they may be. So much of the time, in the midst of this fight, words of any sort seem futile devices.
Lately, I’ve been listening a lot to The Age of Adz by Sufjan Stevens. It’s sprawling and discordant and pretentious and flat-out weird a lot of the time—which is why I like it. Maybe ‘like’ is the wrong word. ‘Appreciate’? According to what I’ve read about the album, Stevens composed it after spending months suffering from a bizarre neurological illness, and an even longer spell of angst and depression. What really strikes me is the prayerful language that emerges out of tonal and lyrical anguish: his remorse for causing others pain by his own selfish behavior, a desire to “get real, get right with the Lord”, cries of ‘Gloria!’ amongst the chaos. It is very much a concept album, a thing that carries greater weight as a whole than the sum of its parts; but if I had to pull a single track, it would be this one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IO17WyaU2mE
Against frenetic instrumentation is the urgent, repeated refrain: “I want to be well!”
I realize this all might sound pretty silly, but in my wearied state, it all makes so much sense. I, too, want to be well, and not only myself, but I want it for the entire world. I look around and see so much suffering: in the lives of people I love, in the lives of people I haven’t even met. “Ordinary people, extraordinary people” alike are suffering in body and spirit. How can I possibly help them fight their battle when I cannot even help myself? All Creation is crying out in its brokenness, crying out to be made new again and restored to wholeness. And so I cry out to God, sometimes with words, often without them, for it is His love alone that sustains us in our battle against evil, only His love that will ultimately set things right.
This week I’ve been listening to the Midnight in Paris soundtrack, which I looked for every day since I saw that movie, and after I finally gave up came out. Early December, back when I was distracted with the Holidays. Sneaky people. I just bought it anyway, and it’s great. Twenties stuff, jazz stuff. This is a sad “contribution” to your post, but I don’t really have anything to contribute except I’m sorry you feel like a failure because I count you as one of the better people I know.
Agreed, this week has been difficult. Working alongside tired/hurting people can be quite tiring, indeed. Also, agreed with the power of music. It is the very thing that keeps me going. Within the last year, I’ve been thinking about “failure” a bunch.. what it means, what it causes, etc. I’ve realized that when I’m scared of failing, that means that I stress out too much & do worse. I am a much happier, stronger person if I’m okay with the prospect of falling. I hope you come to feel that you are super meaningful & not a failure, aaand that God is always there even if we do fail. <3
ha. we’re like carbon copies of each other sometimes, aren’t we? we might be seperate, but we are in this together. thank goodness for that knowledge, at least– for knowing that someone else, even just one person, ‘gets’ it. although i sure wish none of us did, ya know? anyway. i can only ditto what you wrote on my post– miss you, and love you lots, my friend.
Great post, Aleithia. I’ve been listening to this album over and over again for a few months now, and you really got the description spot on. It resonates with me much in the way it has with you. I feel the dissonance and the chaos, yet the melody and order emerge here and there only to be sucked back into the discord, never quite able to leave it completely. It’s a magnificent album because it really does reflect what many feel, and, as you say, what only music can express.
I can say with certainty that an ill and broken spirit is NOT a sign of failure. Everyone has weak points and everyone has imperfections, but these things have nothing to do with how strong a person is. Strong people recognize that they have weakness, address it, and move on. The suffering that we see throughout the world is ultimately caused by shame, that feeling of self-worthlessness. We must accept who we are, faults and all, and realize that these do not make us failure, they simply make us human. God loves us this way, as we should love ourselves. We’re all doing the best we can, including you, and that is enough. You are enough.
“There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” ~Leonard Cohen
I recommend to you a book called “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brene Brown. I’m reading it right now and it’s seriously helping me define the way I view the world. Brene also has a website, http://www.brenebrown.com, and a blog, http://www.ordinarycourage.com. You should check this woman out, she is amazing!