If I wrote you a song
Carriage in Central Park, Diana+It was a few weeks ago when I was trying to wriggle out of the work unfolding before me, and I was having a really hard, fragile-feeling day. I went into Manhattan for a story slam, and realized once I got there that I was there on the wrong day. It was Tuesday, and the show wasn't until Thursday. On the subway ride back home, I watched the sun set behind the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty. The sky was glowing with color and light, and the water below the bridge was a mirror next to the flame.
I was listening to one of Jonatha Brooke's songs on my iPod, and thinking how magic it would be if she was there right that minute. If she could take one look at me and write the song I needed to hear. What would that song be, I wondered. And I came home and jotted down these lines. Then I forgot about them until this morning when I was thinking about a friend.
If I wrote you a song, it might be something like this. Because maybe at the end of the day, we are asking the same kinds of questions, trying to work out a truce with the same kinds of fears. I think we all have less frightening lives that woo us from time to time (the coffee shop barista apron beckons me more than you can know). But I've never regretted being brave. If you've been thankful, even once, for another person's courage, use that memory to help you believe that someone will be thankful and loving you on the other end of yours.
Love Me This Big (or Song I Wrote for Myself on a Shitty Day)
Can you look in my eyes
and see all that I carry
set it to a sweet tune
so it won't sound so scary
Will you write a lyric about dreaming
and another one about fears
Something that will make sense of
this laughter and these tears
Will you love me this big
will you love me this small
hold my power and passion
and my fear that I will fall
Do you see me on the mountaintop
and crying in my bed
Will you love me this big
will you love me this small
If you say what I need to hear
but put it in a rhyme
it will sneak up on me
when I'm having a good time
Tell me to come out of hiding
because it's not all about me
others are counting on me to speak
so they can also be free
Will you love me this big
will you love me this small
hold my power and passion
and my fear that I will fall
Do you see me on the mountaintop
and crying in my bed
Will you love me this big
will you love me this small
Monday, November 9, 2009 at 6:29AM Jen Lee | 15 Comments | in courage, dreaming Share Article | Permalink
Reader Comments (15)
if you ever take this down I will be mad at you for, like, 2 hours!
Lovely.
Thank you. So incredibly gentle and strong. I needed to hear this today.
I love this, Jen. On my next dark day I'm going to write myself a song!
thank you!
beautiful and true and wise - I'm so glad you posted this after all.
this is the best post i've read in a long, long time. you inspire me dear girl, truly.
(and the apron beckons to me as well, my husband teases me about it. still.)
I am discovering new blogs, yours among them. I am enchanted.
Your post today brought me tears - the tears that come when someone else's words capture the very place that I find myself in.
I blogged a couple of years ago and trying to get back in to blogging - first I'm working on clearing some of that proverbial "garbage" I'm carrying around that gets in the way of my creative impulses. This post has helped in that clearing. Thank you.
Yes, oh definitely yes. The apron, the fears, the strength needed. I absolutely relate.
Thanks for sharing. I love the quote: I've never regretted being brave." Think I might have to post that one next to my computer, so I can see it every day. And thanks for your example of this. Bravery is contagious, I think.
i hear you on the hard, fragile feeling day -- that apron was beckoning to me today...
I would love to actually hear this as a song. I tried to sing it myself, but I fear that I didn't do it justice and I would love to have it set to music. It is fabulous! I am in awe that you "came home and jotted down these lines" Wow.
Ab-so-LUTE-ly. Gorgeous. Thank you.
Perfect.
What a wonderful question to ask ourselves - if someone were to write us the perfect song today what would it say?
And then we can write it for ourselves. I've done this sometimes in yoga chanting, found the words I was most longing to hear and then chanted them to myself over and over - less eloquent than your song but powerful all the same.
I love the magical image that begins
i love the story that is this post, the fragility and the bravery, and the luck of having time to see instead of slam on a fragile day
and I love the song that ends this post, it bubbles up with truth Jen, and
yes
I will love you this big
thank you ~ such beauty! xxoxo