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MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

IT TAKES A LOT TO CHANGE A MAN, HELL, IT TAKES A LOT TO TRY

MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

The best bits of beauty are the heartbreaking ones. They tear at the soul, ravage the calm, and rage against the peaceful sleep for which we may long. I think we need that sadness to fulfill the promise of happiness. One can’t exist without the other, not if we want to know what they really mean, how they really feel. The beauty of that is not always easy to grasp, or easy to see. One has to look hard to find solace in sadness.

NOBODY KNOWS WHAT WAITS FOR THE DEAD
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT WAITS FOR THE DEAD
SOME FOLKS JUST BELIEVE IN THE THINGS THEY’VE HEARD AND THE THINGS THEY READ
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT WAITS FOR THE DEAD

The solemnity of winter’s slumber is to be preserved cocoon-like until next December. Let this be an elegy for the passing of the dark season. I present to you a song with which to put your burdens down. We carry too much in a day, and we certainly carry too much in a winter. Let us take tonight to put this winter down, to honor and revere it for what it has been, and to gently welcome the next season whatever it may bring.

I’M GLAD I CAN’T GO BACK TO WHERE I CAME FROM
I’M GLAD THOSE DAYS ARE GONE, GONE FOR GOOD
BUT IF I COULD TAKE SPIRITS FROM MY PAST AND BRING ‘EM HERE
YOU KNOW I WOULD… KNOW I WOULD

Certain music always moves me at this time of the year. It’s the music of God, more-so than any choirs at Christmas or hymns at Easter – it’s a music that touches the soul, merging beauty and art and loss and nature in a glorious, rapturous and heartrending phantasmagoria. ‘Appalachian Spring’ and Aaron Copland created such a creature. Arvo Pärt made it too. They spoke the word of God.  

NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS
NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS
I’D LIKE TO THINK HE’S LOOKIN’ DOWN AND LAUGHIN’ AT OUR WAYS
NOBODY SPEAKS TO GOD THESE DAYS

When winter transforms into spring it doesn’t always happen peacefully. It’s a battle of rage even when there’s only ever been one winner. Wind cries. Storm wails. Night tumbles. This is the sound of God? How could it hurt this much? How does one bear such terrifying beauty? 

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, THEY TRIED TO FOOL ME
SAID THE WORLDLY MAN WAS LOST AND THAT HELL WAS REAL
WELL I’VE SEEN HELL IN RENO
AND THIS WORLD’S ONE BIG OLD CATHERINE WHEEL, SPINNIN’ STILL

As we turn the page to another spring, and bid farewell to another winter, the moment for pause and reflection is at hand. Then that too shall pass, and we will trudge on. It’s time. 

MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
IT TAKES A LOT TO CHANGE YOUR PLANS
AND A TRAIN TO CHANGE YOUR MIND
MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE
OH, MAYBE IT’S TIME TO LET THE OLD WAYS DIE

“Get busy living, or get busy dying…”