Posted by: jamesthethickheaded | September 6, 2012

A Little Hope Here, There and Everywhere

There’s a part of melancholy that to me seems part nostalgia for what has been, wrapped in love of the here and now, and thankful in hope for what comes next… whatever it may be and however hard it may seem at first… for some irrational reason, we seem to have confidence it will yet indeed prove as sweet as all the rest. And it is in these moments that I find prayer, music, and the motion of wind and water seem to be consistent threads in recalling all these to mind at once. Perhaps you do as well.

Seems as though there’s a song in your heart that you knew from the first but forgot, but a certain sense recalls it in a heartbeat as though you’ve never forgotten, never moved on, never left – no matter the intervening years. “We’re here, we’re together…”. And swiftly on its heels are all those resolutions… those vows we make and break so easily that this time we’ll stay together, stay here, and won’t part again this time, that this time… we’ll make that call, we’ll reconnect, and it’ll all go smoothly. And so we start, take that first turn forward almost in a fragile way, but steady as she goes… and steadied as we move from first remembrance to our labored start, we begin to sense a growing joy. And yet all too soon… it ends as though, yes… we really have to breath out again. All for now. But tomorrow is another day…

And so without further drivel, let me share the piece that brings so much of this to my ear and into my heart. Written for piano, but adapted beautifully to the Classical Guitar first by Miguel Llobet and played here by the masterful Julian Bream:

And for the purest, here’s a piano rendition as well: granados-cuentos-de-la-juventud-1-alianello.mp3


  1. You’re reminding me a lot of what Steven was talking about over at Pithless Things and that made me think about how things are for me right now. It’s difficult to describe the movements that occur in that undercurrent of our lives. We’re so intensely aware of it ourselves, but the real world only accidentally evokes it. I wonder why we’re all getting so misty all of the sudden and trying to express inexpressible things. Anyway, loved all the sailing metaphors. I often describe the internal life that way to myself. Which is funny, because I get seasick so easily that sailing is no fun for me.

  2. Thanks for visiting, Grace. Love your blog.
    I think you’re perceptive and yes, the undercurrents… well… that’s what they are… they carry us without our knowing for the most part. Might be a bit of ying and yang, too, with the current ying fed by a bit of the update on the pilgrim thing as present circumstances (a Dad or two or three waning day by day) tend to feed the melancholy rather than the joy. Other than that… I’m still puzzling it out.

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