I was out driving aimlessly after being a shit person, I needed to reset; I needed to jerk myself out of my own shadows of the day. I sometimes can get in my own feelings, its selfish and then I project more than I need to, with company included–can you say collateral damage. ANYWAYS; on this aimless drive I got to thinking as one does when the music is blaring and you have the windows down (maybe for the last time of this equally shit year that is 2020) not paying mind to whether people like Beast of Burden as much as I do. It hit me; Bob came on, my good old friend.
See Bob and I have this emotional, extraordinary relationship. By the age of six, I knew word for word everyone of his songs; by eight I witnessed his poetic justice on stage after Tommy and his Heartbreakers broke the crowd into badlands. By ten, he hung on every wall on our house; one even signed by the man himself, strategically placed as a conversation piece for any guests who entered. You see he taught me prerogative through dancing around my coffee table to Just like a Woman, intolerance through Maggie’s Farm, to my bed time song EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. from my mothers mouth– she never missed a lyric– I would stay forever young through Bob; and then of course, a catch all for every hardship or lurch life had, Times in fact would always be a changin.
Then it happened. You see I came from a place of uncommon, raw, rough and real; it’s important for me to use those exact adjectives–I always used to view it as my trauma, MY part of life that was hard, my dark and twisty. But just like that, like Bob does…Peace, peace came, like a rolling stone that hit me right in the chest. It came so quick I almost lost my breathe. And as sure as the sun rises, my perspective shifted to this imperious proudness. I am proud of my family and although it may not be a journey many understand, its beautiful and ITS MINE. I am so incredibly proud of my family and who we are, the fires we traveled through, together. People may have jumped ship at the first flame, scratch that, everyone would of jumped shipped at the smoke before they could even see the flames that many would call my life. What they lack, for what I can see now, I gained. My journey, our journey is stunning for all that it is.
I owe so much to her. She may have her hard edges and crazy I cant ever get grip on but damn, mom; you painted some of the most intoxicating, unforgettably flawless memories. The memories still fresh– I remember how the light hit the coffee table, how it felt against my hand as I danced, Bob told me its okay to break like a little girl, doesn’t change that I am a woman, and everyone needs a Tambourine man. He has taught me that people are afraid of emotion, you will be too much, Rach, and you know what, it’s okay; more than okay. You need empathy for those who do not feel as greatly as I. Oh ode to Bob that is my life.
Okay so how did Bob now make me realize I was an awful human in high school; you see the trickery that is Bob will do this, bring you a peace you’ve been searching for since, well, forever, pulls one outta left field for you to say “HEY! maybe, just maybe, who you thought you were was really who you wanted to be, and are now, not who you once were”. WELL, eff Bob, why you gotta be so damn insightful all the time, aren’t you tired?
I believed I was kind hearted, didn’t like to ruffle feathers, and oh yeah that trauma I talked about, thought that was my freaking badge to wear (remember literally just dropped it like it was HOT tonight–took me long enough, am’ i right?) I have really hit a stride on a specific station on pandora– this is what happened to prompt my high school memories. The station belongs to Matisyahu. I only found out about him my Junior year, oh what a child I was. But there is a sense of awesomeness that is youth, and what a ride it is, not sure I ever knew it when it was happening, none the less, what a ride. Anyways, off topic again, that’s the teacher in me, Orator at heart. So this artist, Matisyahu, I believe he is Jewish, not that its necessary to say, except he is proud of his religion and sings to it. The person who was super into him my Junior year, I judged. Whether they knew it or not, I did. I judged them quietly from my corner of defining my self on everyone’s declarations about me “caring too much” I thought I was a decent person end of story, no growth required here. WOW. Never looked at it this way and I believe it is because when you take a trip with old man time, you take your memories from that time frame with trust in your self regardless of that level of maturity. It takes effort to go back and re write your story after skin is shed, parts you like especially, and you know what I LIKED, being able to claim I cared too much, gosh how big my heart must be, oh yeah, pat that back! LAME.
I always thought there was a one track life; high school, college, gradschool/job, marriage, kids, die already– okay just kidding– sort of. How folklore of me, not to mention how boring. I had accepted this portrait of me, because it in fact, was decent. I was a decent human, all the while taught manners to not judge out loud; but it was still happening under the surface and how dare I ever let the seasons change, make a little foliage and change my damn colors. Put up a fight against yourself. I wasted so much time not accepting my own peace, it was there the whole time waiting for me to reach out and grab it; instead I let the waters rage. I let my past phase me. And as I did today, I projected; quietly.
Today, today I start anew.
Today is the day you talk about, today I change;
and you know what, it doesn’t stop here.
The times are a changin’
The man himself, Bob