This is not my story, at least I’m not the instigator of this story. I definitely did have a part in it though.
The other day I had a friend of mine, who is in his late 20s send me a picture of the back of his head on snapchat. In this picture he was pointing out the firmly established patch of gray hairs on the back right portion of his head. Only around the size of an American dime, I made the joke that the patch of gray was indicative of him finally reaching what is known as “twink death” in the LGBTQ world. I’ve linked the urban dictionary definition for those of you needing further clarification on the meaning. He then began talking about his somewhat jovial concern that people would no longer think he was 22 because of his growing patch of grays. I reassured him that even with my entirely grayed-out sides & chin, I still get occasionally mistaken for my late 20s at age 34. He would be fine.
Our conversation around the topic didn’t end there though. He slipped in what I interpreted as genuine concern for his aging & his feelings around where he was & wasn’t in life. Something I absolutely understand as someone still trying to ‘make it’ in the music industry way past what the world of entertainment would designate as “my prime.” Hell, I even had a friend at a label once tell me that the executives thought an artist with millions of followers who was doing amazing on their own was too old to sign at the age of 21 or 22. It’s brutal out here. I did my best to reassure him though & in doing so actually ended up stumbling upon an analogy that I really enjoy & that feels incredibly timely with the current time of year.
I am somewhat notoriously a hater of the seasons of autumn & winter, the latter especially. I really dislike the cold; it makes my body physically hurt &, no matter how many people insist upon it, there seems to be no amount of layering that will ever get me to a comfortable state. Additionally, I am often affected by SADs (Seasonal Affectedness Disorder) when the darker, colder months roll around. The depression & the lethargy hit me like a ton of bricks. I’ve written many a song & many a blog on the topic that you are more than welcome to interact with around the many corners of the internet. We are now rolling into one of said seasons as this blog is being constructed. We also are currently in the release cycle of VisionQuest, the most recent installment in the WandaVision trilogy of limited series on Disney+. This all ties in, I promise.
There is a scene in WandaVision that I quote often. It revolves around Vision discovering Wanda in her room at Avengers Headquarters grieving the death of her brother Pietro in Avengers: Age Of Ultron. In the scene Vision, who is a synthetic being, is trying to wrap his head around the idea of grief, as he, himself, has never experienced it & only has an understanding of what it is from having unfettered access to all human data ever. The most famous quote from this scene is “but what is grief if not love persevering?” but there’s another line from earlier in the scene that I attached to with this specific conversation.
The scene goes like this:
Wanda: I’m so tired. It’s just like this wave washing over me again & again. It knocks me down & when I try to stand up it just comes for me again. & I can’t… It’s just going to drown me.
Vision: No.
Wanda: Yeah.
Vision: No. It won’t.
Wanda: How do you know?
Vision: Well, because it can’t all be sorrow, can it? I’ve always been alone, so I don’t feel the lack. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never really experienced loss because I’ve never had a loved one to lose. But what is grief if not love persevering?
I’ll admit, it’s a bit of overkill for this scenario involving a patch of grays & the perceived loss of youth, but I want to draw attention to one specific line here that sent my brain on a tangent. “It can’t all be sorrow, can it?”
Life gets compared to seasons quite often. You hear things like “in this season of life” or “spring’s awakening", “someone is in the winter of their youth or their life.” The seasons play a key role in how we as people personify the experience of time, maturation, & aging. That being said, much like myself, many of us have our favorite, as well as our least favorite seasons but just like my views on the autumn & winter, it can’t all be sorrow, can it?
With the spring life is renewed, the cold slowly starts to melt away, & the cycle of life is once again flung into spin. Flowers bloom, creatures emerge, activities resume. Summer everything flourishes & grows in the warmth & the abundance of the sun. The flower becomes the fruit, life hits its stride, & events are plentiful. With the autumn we fall into the decay. The plants & animals prepare for their slumber or their death, passing along what provisions they need for those who will rise again in the light of their own spring. Winter we sit in the silence & the stillness of the loss & the absence of all that was before. Clearly you can see my feelings laid bare with each of them by just how I write about them here but that’s not the entirety of my feelings.
Autumn also brings Halloween & Dia De Los Muertos, two holidays I thoroughly enjoy. I was also privy this year to the visage of a herd of bison & a pack of wolves in the misty rain set against the colors of chlorophyll absent foliage while geysers erupted all around. It was spectacular & something I could have only seen in October in Yellowstone National Park. I got to see the first snowfall of the year there, the trees & the hot springs all coated in white for the first time in months & though we got stuck in a pass for a while, it was still stunning to bear witness to. It made me realize, at the age of 34, that it can’t all be sorrow, can it?
There is beauty to be found in these moments, just as there is beauty to be found in the revelations of aging. It is a gift that fewer & fewer receive each year. Some never make it to the winter of their lives, hell, some never even make it through spring. We can grieve the loss of the warmth, of the renewal & the fire as much as we want & for as long as we choose, but unless you can stop, move forward, & find the glimmers of beauty in the change, you are doomed to be drug down by it.
Each scar, each wrinkle, each worn-down ligament & joint in your body is a part of your story. They are the signs of a body that has lived. Much like so many of us musicians cherish our scuffed-up, dented guitars & other instruments we too hold the physical reminders of the journey we’ve made in this life gray hairs & all.
As always, much love to you all,
-C