We got re-wired today.
The internet connection now is faster than I’ve ever experienced (fibre-optics, anyone?) and I’m blissed out with the fact that I don’t ever have to wait for another youtube video to download again. Then, a niggling worry began at the backside of my brain…
‘Does that mean you’ll get used to never having to wait?’
In a world filled with queues… That is not good news. You see.. waiting taught me to slow down, to breathe, and most importantly, to limit the number of pages I wanted to load at one go. Now, I’m not hindered by anything other than my physical limitations. Ahhh… But that’s a worry for another day. In the meantime…
‘Give me something new…’ I snuggled up the Husband. It was time for a re-load. Music-wise, that is.
‘What do you want?’ He scrolled through his massive iTunes database. The house was finally quiet and we were in bed, his laptop glowing softly in the darkened room.
‘Oh… I don’t know. I’m in the mood for some good song-writing,’ I replied. ‘I don’t need to explore post-rock music for now, I think I have enough of those… but something that you know, grabs you. Makes you listen. Makes you feel. Makes you… identify with the singer…’
‘How about John Grant?’ He asked. ‘His album is a little sad but it made me feel…’
I raised my eyebrows with interest. It’s rare for The Husband to connect emotionally with a song and if something hit that heart-nerve, I was interested.
‘JC Hates Faggots? Queen of Denmark? Chicken Bones? Erm… he sounds angry.’ I said, scanning the album titles.
‘Well… he is gay. Maybe he’s been hurt before by the religious folks. Or his dad.’
I got that album and spent some time reading through his lyrics. The Husband was right… it was all dismally sad, angry and sarcastic. But more than that… it brought me in to the singer’s journey in this world. And I realised that there is no difference in one’s sexual makeup.
‘I wish that confidence was all you could see in my eyes, like those interviews in locker rooms with talented sport guys. I wish I had no self-awareness like the guys I know float right through their lives without a thought. And that I didn’t give a shit what anybody thought of me. That I was so relaxed you’d think I was bored. I’m sorry that they didn’t hand it to me on a silver platter, like they did to you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to become the man you think I should aspire to.’
– John Grant
We, like Grant, are just looking for two things: acceptance in a world that divides itself with thick black lines, and… love.
When you have everything at your fingertips… what do you choose to listen to? What do you fill your eyes with? What do you want to taste? What do you want to feel?
Walking to the train station this morning, I was busy scrolling through my music when I realised I wasn’t alone.
‘Come away with me…’ the Dream Maker said.
‘Where to?’ I asked.
‘Does it matter? As long as we’re together…’
I smiled. And followed Him.
It was time for me to hide myself in His arms.
It was time for a spot of re-loving.
I don’t want to forget that language again, ever.
‘Every morning you wake up, He’s there, waiting to affirm you. To be the voice of affirmation. Because it doesn’t matter how many times you hear others compliment you… once you hear a negative remark, there’s something in our psychological makeup that causes us to hear that negative voice louder than anything else. And that is why we need to hear Him again, and again. We need to be reminded of how much we’re loved, every single day. We need to be reminded how much we’ve been made accepted…’
– The Big Boss, Jan 9, 2011
And within His book of love letters to me lies the greatest treasures – the story of His love for me, detailed page after page. Unabashed at His devotion, unashamed of His sacrifice for me, unhampered by what others might think… the Dream Maker seeks me out to tell me what I need to hear, again and again.
And oh, how I need reminding.