I Hear America Singing

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing
on the steamboat deck,

The showmaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at
noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of
the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her or to none else,
The day what belongs to the day–at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,  Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

~Walt Whitman

The above version of the poem is as it appeared in the 1867 edition of Leaves of Grass.

As I was reading David’s recent blog entry, I stopped in the middle and thought to myself, this is so amazing – I’m reading a letter from this preposterously talented, successful guy who’s out on tour traveling thousands of miles, working on two albums and spending time with his cousins, and he’s writing a letter to me. Okay, you might have gotten a copy of it too, but really, how many years has it been since I wrote a letter even half that long to a family member or even a friend, much less someone I don’t even know? I think I need more fingers and toes to calculate that sum.

So then I continued reading his blog, and he got to the part about his journal-keeping. He enthusiastically encouraged each of us to start one. I had to blush a bit here, because I truly wonder what he would think if he saw my journal with the poems, the pondering, the inspiration, the dreams, the blog comments, and the responses to blog comments. It’s really quite an enigma, but David has pretty much dominated my journal for the last year and a half.

So, what’s so great about a journal, anyway? Why is David so enthusiastic about this activity?

from David’s blog, June 30, 2009
“I made it my New Year’s Resolution to write at least once a week in it though, and at first I thought there’s no way I’m going to keep this going lol. But surprisingly, I’ve been doing really well with it and I’m so glad that I have. It really helps you sort your thoughts out, and also gets your mind kicking into gear.”

I keep a journal, not so much to keep track of this or that event or conscious thought, but to just let my mind wander about wherever it wants. Some of the most fun entries start from a random word and take off down a road I never would have traveled. It’s fascinating to walk back along that obscure road and see what I brought back with me.

“How can I know what I think ’til I see what I say?”
- E.M. Forster

Journaling. This is another quality that’s so amazing about David. With everything he’s got going on in his life, he manages to carve out a space to talk to us as if we were his closest friends, and ramble on about something that we share in common. Who knew? We’re both fans of journaling.

You fill your lungs with a song
three notes in, I’m gone
vanished into your vortex.
~ highervibe

I used to have a life, you see,
But when I saw you on TV
Flirting with some melody,
I knew that was the end of me.

I had no choice—your lack of guile,
Your soulful voice and gleaming smile
Had me transfixed. Who is this kid?
And that’s when ODD done me did.

What started off mild, grew into obsession.
Stayed up late for vote-dialing sessions,
Screamed at my friends whose taste I questioned,
And after you lost, sank into depression.

And no, I’m not just being dramatic,
I was an honest-to-goodness fanatic.
And I shall prove this with a story
Of ODD in all its glory:

One night I had homework, but I didn’t care—
I got your tweet that you cut your hair—
And so I checked every fansite I knew
And refused to sleep till I saw your new ‘do.

Now wasn’t that stupid? And then online
I found a poll. Though I didn’t have time,
I voted like mad and lost track of the clock
‘Cause heck no you’re not gonna lose to the frikkin New Kids on the Block.

Had to think about work and graduation
But it’s feast or famine, no moderation.
It got so bad I lost concentration
And had to rely on medication.

And then my social life came to an end,
It was all about Youtube and none of my friends.
So I had to step back and take a hiatus.
(It just wasn’t working, this thing between the two of us.)

So I hunkered down, got on with my life,
Boycotted your fan sites—well, just not quite—
Still snuck a sneak peek every now and then…
Then I saw your tour was going to end.

Well, missing your concert was out of the question,
So I booked a flight against my friend’s suggestion.
On my way to Salt Lake, I grew more and more pensive—
This love affair was getting expensive.

I entered the venue, found my seat,
Stepped out to get something yummy to eat,
Came back and sat down, told my neighbor to hush.
You started to sing, and Oh My Gosh!

As you got in the music and found your groove,
Your body knew just how to move.
Now who would’ve guessed that, in this venue,
Honduran salsa would be on the menu?

Your voice boomed strong, you ruled the stage
With a command that belied your age.
And on top of that: all the while,
You surprised us with new musical styles.

Bluesy runs, techno hooks,
Shoulder pumps and burning looks.
And though this affair with your fans you deny
Your movements spoke louder—and your thighs don’t lie.

I said to myself, now how could this be?
Then suddenly you were looking straight at me.
You smiled so slyly, I wailed your name,
You turned away. You have no shame.

My neighbors and I were twitterpated,
Our burning hunger satiated.
Alas, though I thought my obsession would end—
What once was famine, now’s feast again.

Again I could only think of you:
What happened to the guy I thought I knew?
If now my ODD was already severe,
What would you do to me in a couple of years?

Diana Ross once said that if
There were a cure she’d have none of it,
And Aretha’s “Dr. Feelgood” made addiction sound sane.
Then I listened to “Think” and used my brain.

Now I refuse to be sucked in by your suction
And this new, improved line of Archuseduction^©,
For I am wise—and these are eyes
You won’t hypnotize or mesmerize.

I know your type, you’re a massive flirt.
Or perhaps more accurately, “scum of the earth,”
So stop singing me ballads, it’s not gonna work.
There’s somebody out there, and he’s a jerk.

And after our period of separation,
I’ve finally come to the realization
To say: I’ve had the chance to mull…
I hereby declare this marriage annulled.

So David, would you please just go away?
Got so many things I must do today.
No longer do I think that you are sacred,
For now I loathe you with oceans of hatred
For toying with my heart (refer to above),
So please just stop in the name of love. Capiche?

You say you’re sorry? That you understand?
You float above me saying “Touch my hand”?
Won’t work this time, hun. “No,” I say,
As I flit my eyes and look away.

- ronaldsf

Fetch? Balls and sticks capture my attention
seconds at a time. Catch? I don’t think so.
Bunny, tumbling leaf, a squirrel who’s — oh
joy — actually scared. Sniff the wind, then

I’m off again: muck, pond, ditch, residue
of any thrillingly dead thing. And you?
Either you’re sunk in the past, half our walk,
thinking of what you never can bring back,

or else you’re off in some fog concerning
– tomorrow, is that what you call it? My work:
to unsnare time’s warp (and woof!), retrieving,
my haze-headed friend, you. This shining bark,

a Zen master’s bronzy gong, calls you here,
entirely, now: bow-wow, bow-wow, bow-wow.

Evansville, September 2008

There is a Buddhist idea of being in the now, of being present. You are in a calm middle ground that is not pulled by regrets of the past or by anxiety about the future. You are fully in the moment, you are fully “present.” The demands of ego dissipate, and judgment is in short supply.

This state has a centered, peaceful quality. It is not easy to attain. Some people practice meditation to achieve this state. Some look to their canine buddies for inspiration. Some special beings simply have this quality from an early age.

Malaysia, traditional dress

When I met David during the American Idol tour last September, I was struck by his calm presence. He had a joyfulness that rested on a deep peace. He stood there, so patient, so ready for whatever would come. He was present, completely in the now. As I’ve watched him over the past few months, he has shared many different public sides of himself, but through it all, I see a core of calm, of living from his center.

Watching him interact with fans is a lesson in patience and non-judgment. Think of the variety of fans that he must face: giddy 12-year-olds, nervous 50-year-olds, men and women of all ages and orientations and backgrounds and nationalities. He treats them all the same – have you noticed? He has a joyful, peaceful countenance that fills the space with love, and with acceptance. He is fully present only for you, the fan in front of him, even though there are hundreds more in line behind you.

David has a full range of musical connections. He can bring on the exuberant energy and get us dancing (think Zero Gravity); he can go to that almost agonizing place of yearning and make us ache with pain (think Don’t Let Go). He can also take us to a place of stillness and peace.

When he sang Angels in Albuquerque, there was a stillness in that dingy club. Bodies were calm, voices mercifully quieted. David went to that place of deep peace and those of us who were ready, went with him. Past and future fell away and there was only The Voice that took us on a ride. Soaking up his voice felt like a blessing. As he stood up to go, he said, “I love you!”

… And I know that he does.

How did he find that centered place of calm? How does he muster the strength and patience to show love to every fan? How does he take us to that place of peace, and make us feel that he is singing only to us? This is the mystery. But perhaps he is simply living from his true self, our Bodhisattva David, being present.

- davidfanLIZ

]]> http://www.thedavidchronicles.com/2009/04/the-woof-of-now/feed/ 373 http://www.thedavidchronicles.com/2009/03/its-an-inside-job/ http://www.thedavidchronicles.com/2009/03/its-an-inside-job/#comments Fri, 20 Mar 2009 09:00:42 +0000 highervibe http://justdavida.wordpress.com/?p=1553

It’s a marvel the world keeps spinning
Sometimes I wonder how
The angels must be winning
In spite of what we humans still allow.

What passes for a good idea
Just amazes me
And how it’s wrapped and sold to us
Is simply trickery.

And along comes David,
So beautiful to see
Captivating audiences
from sea to shining sea!

But look into those eyes, my friend
And look into them deep
You’ll see that it’s an inside job
And he intends to keep….

Our souls together, whole
Wrapped up in a fleecy
All snuggly in his heart
Wherein we share his peace.

Yup, it’s an inside job
Within that outer beauty
Laughing ‘cross the stage he goes
Shaking his little booty!

And you can laugh at me, you see
It really doesn’t matter
If I’m the Fool on the Hill
Or maybe the Mad Hatter.

‘Cus David’s gonna get you
Exactly where you live,
Wherever you’ve been hiding–
It’s what he’s come to give.

Yup, it’s an inside job
and David’s doing the hiring!
So open up your heart
And let him do the rewiring.

- highervibe, 3/17/09