Someone told me recently how difficult it is to find someone who is the “whole package.”
Am not too sure if it’s that difficult or simply not knowing when you have it.
And how you “squander that resistance for a pocketful that are sometimes promises.”
Hindsight is a wonderful thing and I know I had the “whole package.”
Hell, I even had the house and the white picket fence.
But as Dylan sang in one of his more underrated works, “I threw it all away.”
“Yes, I once had mountains in the palm of my hand/and rivers that ran through every day.”
And as Dylan went onto sing, “I was cruel/I treated her like a fool/I threw it all away.”
A good woman comes only once into your life.
You know, she knows, you exchange vows.
And then something snaps.
You think you can throw it all away and still have it all.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhqhvpMCtj4
But why do we?
Self-destructive?
Ego? Arrogance?
Bolivian marching bands playing a different beat in your head?
Flirting with danger?
‘cos it’s THERE?
Taking it to the limit- and see how low you can go?
And so what happens is she has enough and throws you out.
For a few months you’re like Martin Luther King’s stoned brother singing “Free At Last! Free At Last!”
You go through entire dance troupes.
You visit all points East, West and Eastern Europe.
Then you look around one day and Peggy Lee comes on and sings, “Is This All It Is?”
So, you splash some cold water on your face and try to settle down.
You don’t care where you find her just as long as you find her.
Whoever the hell she might be.
But she is not the whole package.
You keep looking and this time become a U2 song.
You make yourself believe that you might have found what you’re looking for.
But you’ve been comfortably numb before and know you’re making do with something ‘cos anything and anyone will do.
A friend tells you that “the ship and sailed” and that “the train has left the station.”
You wanna be that mad dog running after that train and having her call out, “Lassie Come Home!”
And as Home is where the Heart is, you want that Home back.
It was that “whole package” that made it home.
Until that “whole package” becomes part of your life, the box is empty.
The heart is emptier.
And you’re now a Smokey Robinson song.
With some Snow Petrol and back Chasing Cars.
Hans Ebert
Comments