I lost a friend last year—a story that I don't usually tell out loud in big spaces. Maybe someday that will change, which would only be useful if it helps anyone feel less alone, but that day is not today.
This song—"Don't Doubt"—has been on my mind, though. I only know about Blind Pilot inadvertently because of her and because of this other song specifically, and I'm pretty sure I keep their music close to me for that reason alone. Their songs break my heart in a familiar pattern that is obviously tied now to her death, but it's a bonus that they're sweet and sad and that the harmony and the instrumentation are gentle and perfect. Tonight I was driving around in the early evening too-dark dark realizing that I'd made it past the worst first wave of the daylight savings to standard time transition, and when Blind Pilot came up on Spotify I let myself feel it and then I thought it would be a good thing to share. One thing I can (very) tentatively say I've learned through this experience is that I can sometimes feel the channel really open up between me and that person, spirit, whatever form she takes now. And I can also take what I've learned and experienced from having her remarkable energy touch my life and turn the best parts of it outwards, too. That includes sharing what loss really feels like if you really feel it.
And now I'll just shut up and invite you to check it out if you're into a sound that seems built for fall turning into winter.
Thin wind ringing in the silver tines-
Yeah, it took you by the throat but it wasn't the killing kind.
And now you don't tell it like you used to.
Every day left in the dark is going to come back to you.
Every hope left in your heart is waiting on what you'll do with doubt.
What the hell, I'll throw Just One in here, too. I really can't believe we do either.
Born in with a reason,
blown out like a ghost.
We came with our best lines-
told them like jokes.
If I could have known then we were dying to get gone…
I can't believe we get just one.