season of the sticks

A few weeks ago, I put a two-day event called “NOTHING PLANNED” on our calendar to mark this sacred mellow weekend. Yesterday was rainy and the river was moody. This morning we woke up to blue skies and ice.

These days were everything I hoped they would be. It’s midnight and I just finished the dishes–the kitchen was a wreck from a day of being present with the girls and then making a tasty/special dinner. Matt was on the roof for much of the day re-siding part of the house. He was grateful for the time to work; I was grateful for the time to breathe and be, to show Margot how to use scissors, to make a zine together, to giggle with little Muriel. Tonight after the girls fell asleep, Matt and I cracked up watching some SNL shorts from last week. (I highly recommend Episode 6. I Miss My Ex’s Dad is pure silly gold.)

This is all to say that a cozy family weekend is just what we needed.

It’s stick season out there, which naturally has me listening to singer-songwriter Noah Kahan. A few weeks ago I found myself wondering what the Stick Season music video might be like, so I went to watch it on youtube (spoiler: it’s unextraordinary). If you haven’t heard the song, I would not recommend watching the music video–I’d recommend just giving it a listen somewhere. If you don’t want to hear it, just know it’s basically a hearfelt track about being broken-hearted, down, and out. In my opinion, pure emo gold.

After watching the music video, I found myself scanning the comments section, a habit (vice?) of mine.

I came across this comment:

Listen

I’ve been thinking about these words for weeks. Not because they are powerful or moving, but because I could not imagine living a life in which “nothing in this song applies to me.” Is this person twelve? Or just very sheltered? Or just taking the lyrics extremely literally?

I could not imagine a life without loss, without past loves. I could not imagine a life without emotional pain, a life without dreams, without longing, without having deep flaws and knowing them. The feelings shared in this song are, to me, core to a rich and real human life.

This silly little comment from a stranger has me reflecting on how grateful I am for the tapestry of my life. I know this sounds so cliché! But seriously–if I couldn’t relate to this song, I would feel like a character in a book that the author scribbled onto the page without any thought or love. I’d feel like a flat cardboard cutout of a person. How could you ever write a poem if you can’t relate to this song?

I generally want peace and happiness for everyone, especially people who haven’t given me reason to wish otherwise. But, if I’m being honest, I wish unto this comment-kid some deep love and heartache and longing and pain and life-richness from it all. I guess I believe that a good life isn’t an easy life. A good life is a full life.

As Ed Abbey (environmentalist, author, and controversial human whose work I still mostly admire) put it –

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.”

That’s my wish for you, comment-kid. I swear it will be for your own good.