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  • Writer's picturejason

Lucy Kaplansky, "Land of the Living"

Sometimes we may just need to cry. The state of the world certainly merits it. As Paul Simon sings in yesterday's Song of the Day: "Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears." But sometimes, too, music can provide space for our sorrow and, maybe, allow us to find solace on the other side.


This song brings me to tears, every time. New York folk singer Lucy Kaplansky wrote it about 9/11, but while the details are different, it still feels very much relevant to this moment: death and fear in the air; grief for those lost; gratitude for the helpers on the front lines; brown people receiving the hate and the blame (always).


And yet the song quietly insists: even with so much death, this is also a place for life and the living.



As I write this, the tree outside my window is pushing forth spring leaves and berries, and sparrows are congregating on the branches. The cats are napping, resting up for their campaign for lunch. My family is sharing a laugh in the living room. In apartment windows across the city there are rainbows colored by children. People are hard at work creating novels and dances and songs. And even with City Hall's Marriage Bureau closed and crowds prohibited, a couple intent on getting married -- call it "love in the time of coronavirus" -- finds a way.


None of this is to deny that these are harrowing times, and that we must resist the forces that make them so. But joy and sunlight and the pulse of life are also part of the equation, and I think it's vitally important to notice and cherish them. Those are the things we're fighting to save.


BONUS: In honor of National Poetry Month, here are a few lines from a poem I often find myself turning to, "A Brief for the Defense" by Jack Gilbert:


We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,

but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have

the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless

furnace of this world. To make injustice the only

measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.

...

We must admit there will be music despite everything.



Thanks as always for indulging my ramblings. Until tomorrow's music, be well.


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