Tonight I've been listening to "All Things Must Pass," George Harrison's first solo album post-Beatles, for the first time. After Disc 1, I was kind of bummed out after editing out 4 of the 9 songs before transferring to my iPod. (Wanted to be totally enthralled, wasn't. The 5 of 9 songs I kept: My Sweet Lord, Wah-Wah, What Is Life, If Not For You, Behind That Locked Door.)
So by Disc 2, I was kind of bored, kind of ready to be done with the "chore" of listening to the whole now-only-"supposedly" classic thing just to get the distillation. I was pleasantly surprised, though, to find that I liked every song that I was hearing on 2. Really liked "Beware of Darkness"; merely liked the rest, was grooving along... And then came "The Art of Dying"! I got goosebumps, both because of the music and the lyrics. This YouTube version doesn't do it justice (should be heard SUPER-LOUD, with headphones, IN YOUR HEAD) -- WOW!
...Nothing in this life that I've been trying
Can equal or surpass the art of dying...
Searching for the truth among the lying
And answered when you've learned
The art of dying...
But when you have it there'll be no need for it
There'll come a time
When most of us return here
Brought back by our desire to be
A perfect entity
Living through a million years of crying
Until you've realized the art of dying...
I guess this song at this moment in time for me is particularly meaningful because... I got nothin', baby! :) Not a single spiritual thing, no Love. I got plenty o' intellectual things to tide me over, see me through. But the lack of the spiritual, the lack of Love, is killin' me. (Only figuratively, but killin' me nonetheless.) There's no solution at all for my lack. George's karmic suggestion that I quit being disturbed by said lack is interesting -- unless I quit wanting, I'm going to be coming back to try the same thing over and over and over and over... I get it! :) I get it, but, as a young-soul Leo, albeit a 48-year-old one, I can't quite yet ACCEPT it. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light..." You know, THAT sort of thing. Accepting "nothingness" reminds me of accepting a subservient secretarial job and pretending with all my might to be happy with it, to be grateful for the chance to smile constantly at blowhards and clean up the kitchen. I WON'T. I WON'T. Guess, according to George, I still have a "million years of crying" (minus 80-some-odd) left to do. So be it, I suppose. I fought my asshole Father over saying "May I be excused" from the table until he fell asleep, and I'll fucking fight the Universe -- one million years if necessary -- over this.
--Woops! Just realized that this was kinda the point of the song, and about what I'd already realized for myself: "Don't waste energy on responding to assholes, be it your father or the universe. Instead, flooowwwwwwww." Yeah, OK, RIGHT! (Now does everyone see the dilemma? You see fucked-up shit and you want to rage against it -- But if you say anything, you're a "troublemaker" and, nowadays in an adroit creepy psychological turnaround, a "bully." There's no fucking way out of this.)