July 01, 2002
You see men sailing on their ego trips
Blast off on their space ship
Million miles from reality
No care for you, no care for me
So much trouble in the world now
So much trouble in the world now
All you got to do is give a little
Give a little, give a little
One more time YE-A-H! YE-AH!
So much trouble -- Bob Marley
Jeneane and b!X blog daily, voicing frustration, isolation, and caring as different as they are personal and compelling. They are my first reads each day, although not always my immediate comments. I follow the echoes of their voices until I find the beginnings of my own.
When Jeaneane posted about ‘reggae sea’ the other day, I remembered how much I like reggae music, although, until her scanning of Marley’s melodies as they rise and fall to the eternal rhythms of the sea, I wasn’t sure why. Now I’m sure. Especially after watching the VH1 special on Marley, which I wouldn’t have noticed was on if not for having the reggae sea awash in my brain.
How much we all yearn to be free of oppression – the oppression of patriarchies, of matriarchies, of work without meaning, of places without heart or hope. Yet how much we also yearn for connections. Freedom with connection. Wings and roots. Safe houses. Safe homes.
Including my move out of my family home in 1957, I have moved 16 times – and only one of those was back to my family for the summer after my college sophomore year. My mother calls me a gypsy. I always have thought that somewhere in my genes hide a few DNA strands that connect to those other times, those 'Other' people. I look around my interiorly un-designed apartment, overflowing with books and technology and yarn and beads and fabric and wonder who I am, really. Dilettante? Crone? The Good Daughter? Homeless Gypsy? A wanderer on the reggae sea, adrift in the dark?
Marley sings 'all you got to do is give a little.' How much is too much? When I came back to my small apartment after those few free and free-ing days in Maine last month, I felt as though I were coming back to a prison. I am truly confined by caregving., and there is a part of me that whines 'oh c’mon… she’s 86….why doesn’t she just go already…' I try to remember the times she bailed me out financially, came up by train to take care of one of my sick kids so that I could go to work; all of the times she has help out my own kids. (Heh. She even let b!X live with her for 6 months at one point in his early twenties while he figured out where he wanted to go next. She sure surprised me with that one!)
So, for now, I live in limbo, in a place I don’t want to live in, living a kind life I really don’t want to live.
'So much trouble,' Marley chants. Burningbird struggles toward finding some roots. The Wordwhore struggles with weaving her freedom. Golby struggles to keep some distance from his trouble. Chris Locke keeps his trouble to himself. Jeneane shares her trouble with sweet/sour sadness. B!X thinks about leaving some of the big troubles behind.
Connections make trouble bearable while we wait and struggle and 'give a little.' One more time YE-A-H! YE-AH!
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Old Comments (6)
jeneane on 01 Jul 2002
you're new site is great, this post is great, you are great. I can only imagine (more over the last three months) how confining your life is as you struggle to do the right thing. I'm assuming that stuff pays off someplace, you know? If only in your heart of hearts.
For now, you have a new home with unlimited bandwidth here, on kalilily!
Lorraine on 01 Jul 2002
Sigh. Yes Elaine, before you say anything, I will go visit the Sis-tahs, but I am totally wiped out by weather. I loathe summer with an all-consuming hatred. I am a Winter person.
Anyway, I think you are speaking of your Mother? Welcome to the club. My mother died 10 years ago at 84. I am an only child. She had Alzheimers and had her own apartment in my building. I had to work to keep groceries on the table. It was a nightmare, especially the overwhelming guilt when the nursing home was the final option. I know exactly how you are feeling.
And yes, I will be visiting the Sis-tahs soon. As soon as I can get someone to cool my fevered (sweaty) brow.
Lorraine on 01 Jul 2002
Had a comma in my URL. It was stuck to my sweaty butt, I believe.
Elaine on 02 Jul 2002
Hey Lorraine, turn on your fan and introduce yourself to the Sisters.
And yes, it's my mom I'm talking about. She's not that bad yet, actually. What's bad is some other bad sibling dynamics that make it harder for me. (Are there ANY families that are actually 'functional?')
Prentiss Riddle on 02 Jul 2002
Interesting thought about reggae and the sea. I'm not sure I believe it, but it could explain another mystery. I was surprised to learn on a trip last year that much contemporary Hawai'ian music has a Caribbean or specifically reggae beat. Very curious, since as far as I know there was no large-scale migration from the British West Indies to Hawai'i (some from Puerto Rico, but that's a different set of rhythms entirely). When I first heard it I figured it was for tourist consumption but no, it's most prevalent in local music that the tourists are barely aware of.
An alternate theory of the connection: it's the ganja.
Elaine on 02 Jul 2002
Oh c'mon. Isn't it pretty cool to think that our essential rhythms are all connected because they are all connected to the essential sea? If ganja plays a role, it's only to amplify what's already ebbing and flowing, making the connection deeper. But you do have to inhale.