I first heard this song after I bought a Fleetwood Mac cassette for fifty cents from the thrift store. I was about 10 years old at the "ARC Thrift Store" next to that infamous pink building known as "Casa Bonita". At that age, I was a mere co-pilot on the thrifting adventures as I didn't have my own money nor a sense of style, yet (at this point, I was a hardcore tomboy who exclusively wore basketball shorts). So, instead of perusing aisles of colors, patterns, and outfit possibilities; I would spend my time sorting through stacks of CDs, cassettes, and records in that random aisle on the side of the store. On this particular Saturday, as I sifted through dusty piles of forgotten music, I was immediately struck by the cover art of a particular hard cassette case. It was a handsome man flagged by two women and I was struck by the lighting. It immediately reminded me of a painting that I had seen in the "Catholic Youth Center" of my childhood school. Here's a photo. This painting, "Christ at the Column" by Caravaggio, hung humbly above the second-hand couches that lined the walls of the youth center. As I participated in the Bible Studies, I remember being drawn to that painting. Sure, my budding pubescent mind may have been initially drawn to the chiseled Christ (you don't really see that in Catholic school), but I was also enthralled by the lighting; how Christ is shown in full glow, while his persecutors are cast in shadow. Highly metaphorically, sure, but it is also hyper realistic. At that age, I wasn't aware of the names of artists nor the different eras, but I knew that I loved that painting.
So, as I came across the "Gypsy" cassette tape, I was immediately struck. The three characters on the cover were in a vivid battle of light and shadow, like that Caravaggio. I will admit that I bought that cassette merely for the cover art. And since it was only fifty cents, I figured it might be an easy sell to my parents. And I was right, I left that ARC thrift store with a new treasure. I went home, popped that cassette into my "boombox" and I've been enarmored ever since. As a child, I did not digest the lyrics...I mostly just loved the airy harmonies and then Stevie's raspy voice. The song made me feel good and I particularly loved the guitar solo at the very end of the song. It was a song that accompanied me while I danced alone in my bedroom, sang in the shower, and jumped on my trampoline (I used to prop my boombox in my bedroom window so that I could hear it as I played outside). But as an adult, the song is more than just a "feel-good" song, but instead I experience my own revelations and secrets in this song. I've been called a "gypsy" more than once in my life. Other synonyms include: "the free-spirit", "the life of the party", and "the girl who lives on a cloud of fun". I've always been delighted in this aspect of my personality, the ability to see the fun and magic around me. However, there have also been times where this gift has been diminished as being "delusional" or "illogical". I have felt that pressure to squash that freedom, that playfulness, that delight and at times I have succumbed to it. I've tried to button up my act, "grow up", and minimize my delight, but I have found that route of logic to be fruitless, boring, and counterintuitive. I found that living in a perpetual fear of "what ifs” and "worst case scenarios" is merely a desire for control and living doesn't happen in control. Control is fear incarnate and living in fear is both an addiction and a sanctuary for those who pride themselves on being "sensible". Instead of living in fear, I choose to live in flow; to dance and play in the flow of life. Because my existence, my miraculous existence, was meant to delight in the day and to play in this precise moment. I mean, think about it, our miraculous existence came to be from generations and generations of ancestors falling in love at a precise moment, then making love at a precise moment, and then that precise sperm and egg meeting....it's flabbergasting. We have one the lottery of all lotteries.....and you want me to be enslaved by logic and fear. No, thank you. I think my ancestors would be delighted in my playfulness and delight, especially those who have passed on and realized that they took their own lifes too seriously. Fleetwood Mac's song "Gypsy" may be an anthem for all those who are naturally "free-spirited", but I also think it encourages us to get back to "gypsy" that existed in you when you were free...maybe when you were a child. You hear this invitation when Stevie sings, "You see your gypsy" as the "lightning only strikes once, maybe twice". Life is precious. Delight in it. Smile. Dance. Play. And realize that it all ain't that important....all of it, seriously. In a couple generations you will fail to be remembered. And, I know that for some, that is nihilistic and depressing, but I find it freeing. This is your life. This is your story. This is your song to sing and dance to. I hope "you see your gypsy" and smile because "I still see your bright eyes". P.S. Stevie wrote this about herself...feeling that she was losing that gyspy side of her especially after losing her best friend to cancer. In the song, you can hear her grief and longing. And this is something I resonate with more as an adult. That is the beauty of music, it seems to grow with you and open up to you as life continues to flow on. P.S.S. Carvaggio is still one of my favorite painters. And, when I was in the convent, I printed out a copy of "Christ on the Column". The chiseled Christ rested in the folds of my "Divine Office" book. Yes, Nuns love a hot Jesus too.
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Adrenaline and an attack position; spontaneity and "sending it"; fearlessness and flow meets Brianna on her mountain bike.
This past weekend, I made the rather spontaneous decision to rent a mountain bike and try my luck "Downhilling '' at Winter Park. Downhilling (also referred to as DH) "is a form of gravity-fed mountain biking where there is little to no uphill riding involved". In fact, a true downhill doesn't even require you to trek up a mountain, instead you ride a lift/gondola. I first heard about downhilling from a high schooler who was taking a driving lesson from me when I was a driving instructor (yes, I've had a variety of jobs: CDL licensed bus driver, saleswoman at those kiosks you see at the mall, driving instructor, basketball referee, teacher, dj, burlesque dancer, etc). As we drove around town I asked him what one of his hobbies was or a sport that he enjoyed and he told me about downhilling. He talked about the thrill of flashing down a mountain while dodging "baby heads” (small round rocks on the trail) and leaning into a banked turn while hearing your fellow racers inch up behind you. He spoke so eloquently and poetically about this extreme sport and I was enthralled. In between my blurbs of, "When safe, go ahead and make a left lane change" I inundated him with questions about this scarcely practiced hobby for a mere teenager. He was amused by my enthusiasm and he said "You have to try it., especially since you are not afraid of getting into a high speed car with a new driver. You are obviously pretty brave...or crazy!". We laughed and completed our drive and told him that one day I would be downhilling. And, that day came. I invested in some fun by renting a mountain bike for the day. For a humble $250, I was given a $7,000 dollar mountain bike, a lift ticket, a full face helmet, chest protector, elbow pads, knee pads, and gloves. I walked out of that bike shop looking like Robocop, but aesthetics were on the backburner that day. My focus instead was on challenging myself at a new sport and facing my own fears and insecurities about my abilities. Sure, I've always been athletic, but this felt a bit outside my wheelhouse. As I rode the gondola up the mountain, I felt the nerves kick in, but I kept repeating to myself, "You can f*^*ing do this, Brianna!" As I departed the gondola and saw the maze that was the map, I knew that I would be sticking to the "greens" (the easiest trail) to start. So, I hopped on "Green World'' and began my downhilling adventure. Admittedly, I began my downhilling career too timidly and with too much brake. I was intimidated by the steepness of the hills, the obstacles that seemed to come too quickly, and the sharpness of the switchbacks on an already narrow trail. I felt myself fishtailing and skidding, which may look cool on video, but is known to be the precursor to "biffing" it. About mid-trail, I took a break and caught my breath. I felt my heart pumping, I felt the quick rise and fall of my chest, and I felt my body heat skyrocket. It was during this rest that I decided to strip down and cool my body. I took off the gloves, knee pads, and elbow pads which felt like they were constricting me and causing me more anxiety than I actually felt. I stuffed them in my little backpack and felt relieved. I felt stable and strong and by taking off that "armor", I felt the fear leave. That "armor" had made me feel like I was preparing to fall at some point, but when I took it off I felt that surge of trust that I feel for my body and my own athletic abilities. But, keep in mind, I kept my full face helmet and chest protector on...gotta protect the goods, as they say. As I inched back to the trail I heard, "Aren't you cold?". I smiled and turned around to find a fellow mountain biker decked head to toe in gear/warmth. I said, "No, I run hot. Plus, I'm from here. This is still summer weather" (it was about 50 degrees on that early morning). He looked me up and down and said, "You're crazy"; probably alluding to my wardrobe of a sports bra barely covered by a chest protector, and my black yoga pants with minimal protective gear. I smiled and shrugged and said, "I know". Feeling light, cool, and free I blasted down the remainder of the trail. I felt my confidence swell, my grip loosen and my reach for the break lessen. I began to hit and curve corners with ease and even got in some little bunny hops off those darling baby heads. I smiled the whole way down as I repeated, "You can f*^*ing do this, Brianna", "You're a hurricane", and "You're in total control, just control the mind". I hit a flow going down that mountain. I zeroed in on the moment and began to banish thoughts of "what if...", and "I can't do this''. Instead, I leaned into trusting myself and realizing that my worst enemy wasn't the "baby head", the "face slappers'' (tree branches), or gaps/jumps; but instead, the worst enemy was my mind's ability to fear and catastrophize. As I blazed down that mountain I began to hit a zone of meditation where I actively pondered what this was re-teaching me. It reminded me that the "obstacle is the way"; this is the idea that taking the seemingly safest route can actually be the route to demise. You witness this on the trail as you approach a part of the trail that is littered with rocks/boulders and overgrown roots. When you approach these obstacles, at a fast speed, your first impulse is to dodge them, but by dodging you actually put yourself at a much greater danger of wiping out. Instead, it is best to charge head first into that which seems terrifying and to trust your own ability to adapt and ultimately survive. I was also reminded of the importance of embracing the flow...to go into the chaos...to loosen your grip; because braking and gripping will not gain you any more control, instead, it is the number one reason why people eat it and leave that mountain battered and bruised. And, I think you can apply that same thinking to life. No good comes from trying to stop or slow down something that is inevitable and gripping onto something is also denying the nature of a gift (freely given and freely taken). My meditation then bounced to the common metaphor of the mountain and the ups and downs that come with it. Typically, the up is referring to the mountain peaks, the "ultima" of the trip. But, upon reflection, no one stays at the top. In fact, that "top" always seems somewhat unfullfilling as we look for that next peak after a long slog up the mountain. It then reminded me of that story from the New Testament, when three of the apostles go up the mountain and witness the "Transfiguration of Christ". They see Jesus lifted into the air and his clothes turn to a dazzling white and the apostles are both awe-struck and thrilled as their Messiah is flagged by Moses and Elijah. Then, Peter (the rock, who had a way about putting his foot in his mouth) said, "Lord, it is good that we are here" and then offered to pitch three tents for Jesus and the ghostly figures. And what does Jesus say, "Nah, this isn't where we are supposed to stay....now we downhill".....or something like that ;). What I am trying to articulate is that that mountain peak, that instagram photo at the top, that picture perfect life that comes at the end of safely tip-toeing through life is not the goal. I think, what is the "better part", is to embrace the free-fall of the downhill. To embrace the rush of sudden changes and obstacles; because it is by this route that we learn self-trust, self-love, and self-vindication. Plus, sitting on top of a mountain drinking your beer at the lodge is a lot less satisfying than flowing into and conquering your own fears on the downhill. My meditations continued as I made three more passes down the mountain. I did my first pass in 55 mins, my second in 35 mins, and my last two runs were a mix of "blues" and "blacks". I am grateful that I completed my first day of downhilling without a crash, but I know that will not always be promised in the future. I will not let that stop me. No, I plan to downhill very soon (before Winter Park turns back into a ski resort) because I want the downhills in my life. And, even if I do crash and burn....well at least I'll be burning with a passion and zest for life. One of my favorite games to play, when visiting my local dive bar, is to curate my jukebox selections based on who is in the bar. I will pinpoint my target and guess the song that will get their body moving. It is a test of my own musical knowledge as well as my ability to read the room. Proudly, I am pretty darn good at getting my victims to shimmy and shake, even if it seems out of their control. However, taking control of the jukebox is no light matter and the DJ for the next couple of quarters should try and please the whole room. And, this song right here, "Neon Moon '' will get absolutely everyone grooving. It does not matter your age, sex, ethnicity, or musical background....everyone loves this song. I think it's because of its easy melody that is both haunting and calming. The man bemoans his loneliness and heartbreak while singing under the neon moon (which can either be interpreted as the neon lights of the bar or the actual moon that lets off its neon light under the magic of full moon). This sadness is a universal reality we all share, but instead of leaving us downcast, this song seems to comfort us and unite us in that all too common feeling of the loneliness of lost love. This song is lovely and it is even more lovely to dance to. It is a song you dance to with your eyes closed as someone whisks you around the horn of the dancefloor; but, it is also a fun song to line dance to. I first learned this line dance at the Grizzly’s Rose’s lessons on Wednesday night. The first time I took a lesson, I learned how to do the “solo line dance”. This is one of the most popular line dances that exists and it is not only because of the popularity of the song, but also because of how beautiful and graceful the step pattern is. It took me several weeks to nail this step pattern, but now dancing the line dance to “Neon Moon” is almost meditative as I am able to enter into the flow of my body and the emotions that rise from this song. Being one of my favorite songs to dance to, I decided it was time to take the “Partner LIne Dance” lesson. This lesson also happens on Wednesday nights at “The Rose” and you do not need to come with a partner to be included. So, last night I rolled up to the lesson and was paired up with an alternating roster of cowboys and we attempted to learn the dizzying steps of the line dance. I danced with about five different cowboys and I'd say that about two of them had it down. And I, towards the end, felt that same meditative flow begin as my body memorized the pattern. The difficult part about partner dancing is that it is often difficult to dip into that meditative flow unless you and that partner are in perfect sync. But, when you are in sync...it's magical. It is magical because you are seeing two people enter into that flow state together while such a profound song plays. And when this happens, it almost seems as if a vortex opens around them. It's glorious....and again, it's magic. If you wanna see that magic, come to the Grizzly Rose on Wednesdays. There are so many couples that you can tell have been dancing and loving together for years. You see it in their flow, in the way they hold, and in the way they dip into that magic. Below is a video of the partner line dance and the magic between two dance partners. P.S. Take this as an open invitation to dance today. I promise, it always makes you feel better, even when you're lonely under the "Neon Moon". P.S.S. Can you guess what my favorite part of the dance is? If you guessed the partnered "body roll" while they both face forward...you know me too well! :) |
AuthorBrianna is a proud native of West Denver and she is an avid admirer of the arts. Her admiration of the arts is centered around her draw toward the beautiful and good of everyday life. Brianna finds beauty in a well-worn book, in the eclectic colors and textures of a thrift store find, and in the sound of a killer guitar solo whether it be live or through a well thought out Spotify playlist. Her passions are varied and many, but they all center on appreciating the fullness of life. Archives
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