Letter to Jeff Tweedy
Mr. Tweedy,
I recently learned that death is inescapable. Certainly, at age 25 that would make me naive for a quarter of a century. I was always a firm believer in the resilience of life, but the truth is that we are all freak anomalies of nature. My previous belief that science would one day provide the solution to the problem of death is now proven to be a childish dream. Even if we happen to forgo all the pleasures that damage the body, and prevent all foreseeable events that would lead to our demise, there is still no escaping our debt of living. Our DNA is constantly being damaged, often irreversibly, and after sufficient damage is done we will certainly die (cancer or other diseases). Our environment favors death.
Why burden you with this all too often ignored certainty? Well, the comfort of immortality is no longer a luxury of mine. The world is blasting by, and before the debris is carried off by the wind, I wish pick up a piece of my world and maybe show it to another (even if it is only to a gatekeeper). I don't expect feedback, I've been desensitized by the ever-silent One, but I do hope that this message isn't transmitted in vain.
I don't want this to be misconstrued as flattery, that is not my intent. True, I consider you as a searcher, possibly the ultra-rare enlightened American. Your lyrics and song touch that level that most force themselves to at the detriment of their liver. But once again flattery is not my intent. Holding you as an enlightened artist I figured that you may appreciate the insight I derived, incidentally, with your assistance coupled with the certainty I mentioned earlier.
Sulking in my newfound doom, I was pacing in my garage alone, drunk, listening to music and breathing smoke. Trying to mentally uncover some loophole, some potential for life to exist eternally, I was at a loss and becoming more and more irritated with my sentence of death. No matter what penance I could perform, there was no saving me, and life itself morphed into an unwanted gift. When the horizon is black on all sides, there is little motivation to travel. The long tease seemed despicable. I never understood how those on death row could 'wait to die'. If it's going to happen, I say to hell with the foreplay. My garage has rafters and an appealing amount of smooth nylon rope. Temptation was there, but I was still a coward.
To drown out those frightening thoughts I turned the music up and your songs so happened to populate the playlist at that time. Sure, a part of me felt that the ever-silent One had finally overcame reservations, but it was your music and not a burning bush or talking ass. Certainly you've been inspired, maybe by similar experiences and communicate the symbolism through song and lyric. While your songs were in tune with my frame of reference, that only meant that we both looked in the same direction. No matter how miraculous an experience, I can always explain the miracle away.
Parents often speak about the miracle of birth. The child will not remember that event so at best it is only a spectator miracle, never anything personally witnessed. Women can observe the miracle with extreme proximity, but it is the existence from non-existence that is the miracle.
Continuing that line of thought, with birth and death being end points of our subjective realities, and since birth is not truly experienced, the only miracle we will ever be privy to personally witness is death. To that I have no doubt. Even with that promise the rope and the rafter were less appealing.
Why do I cling to this tangled knot between my ears? Why do you? Certainly you've came to the same conclusion: why live when a miracle is only a death away? There must be some enchantment with our decaying and fragile flesh that we continue to tolerate it.
We are all a created from a larger whole. Being an offspring, I will only remain such as long as I prevent my return to the source. At times I despised this gift and would've gladly returned just to admonish my maker, but I refrained with hopes that one day I'd learn to love what I've been given. I may not be completely there, but I can say with a degree of confidence that I'm close.
The act of creation nudges me closer to that goal of loving life. The act helps me feel the love from creator to creation, and it sooths me in a way. If I were to create something that touches another's spirit like you have already done, I believe that then I can no longer hate this gift of existence.
To life, love and creation,
TS
I recently learned that death is inescapable. Certainly, at age 25 that would make me naive for a quarter of a century. I was always a firm believer in the resilience of life, but the truth is that we are all freak anomalies of nature. My previous belief that science would one day provide the solution to the problem of death is now proven to be a childish dream. Even if we happen to forgo all the pleasures that damage the body, and prevent all foreseeable events that would lead to our demise, there is still no escaping our debt of living. Our DNA is constantly being damaged, often irreversibly, and after sufficient damage is done we will certainly die (cancer or other diseases). Our environment favors death.
Why burden you with this all too often ignored certainty? Well, the comfort of immortality is no longer a luxury of mine. The world is blasting by, and before the debris is carried off by the wind, I wish pick up a piece of my world and maybe show it to another (even if it is only to a gatekeeper). I don't expect feedback, I've been desensitized by the ever-silent One, but I do hope that this message isn't transmitted in vain.
I don't want this to be misconstrued as flattery, that is not my intent. True, I consider you as a searcher, possibly the ultra-rare enlightened American. Your lyrics and song touch that level that most force themselves to at the detriment of their liver. But once again flattery is not my intent. Holding you as an enlightened artist I figured that you may appreciate the insight I derived, incidentally, with your assistance coupled with the certainty I mentioned earlier.
Sulking in my newfound doom, I was pacing in my garage alone, drunk, listening to music and breathing smoke. Trying to mentally uncover some loophole, some potential for life to exist eternally, I was at a loss and becoming more and more irritated with my sentence of death. No matter what penance I could perform, there was no saving me, and life itself morphed into an unwanted gift. When the horizon is black on all sides, there is little motivation to travel. The long tease seemed despicable. I never understood how those on death row could 'wait to die'. If it's going to happen, I say to hell with the foreplay. My garage has rafters and an appealing amount of smooth nylon rope. Temptation was there, but I was still a coward.
To drown out those frightening thoughts I turned the music up and your songs so happened to populate the playlist at that time. Sure, a part of me felt that the ever-silent One had finally overcame reservations, but it was your music and not a burning bush or talking ass. Certainly you've been inspired, maybe by similar experiences and communicate the symbolism through song and lyric. While your songs were in tune with my frame of reference, that only meant that we both looked in the same direction. No matter how miraculous an experience, I can always explain the miracle away.
Parents often speak about the miracle of birth. The child will not remember that event so at best it is only a spectator miracle, never anything personally witnessed. Women can observe the miracle with extreme proximity, but it is the existence from non-existence that is the miracle.
Continuing that line of thought, with birth and death being end points of our subjective realities, and since birth is not truly experienced, the only miracle we will ever be privy to personally witness is death. To that I have no doubt. Even with that promise the rope and the rafter were less appealing.
Why do I cling to this tangled knot between my ears? Why do you? Certainly you've came to the same conclusion: why live when a miracle is only a death away? There must be some enchantment with our decaying and fragile flesh that we continue to tolerate it.
We are all a created from a larger whole. Being an offspring, I will only remain such as long as I prevent my return to the source. At times I despised this gift and would've gladly returned just to admonish my maker, but I refrained with hopes that one day I'd learn to love what I've been given. I may not be completely there, but I can say with a degree of confidence that I'm close.
The act of creation nudges me closer to that goal of loving life. The act helps me feel the love from creator to creation, and it sooths me in a way. If I were to create something that touches another's spirit like you have already done, I believe that then I can no longer hate this gift of existence.
To life, love and creation,
TS
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