When I locate myself in the mythic world, at this very moment in space and time, I find myself in a lovely house. It’s a square house with clean floorboards and white walls, and it stands in a meadow, amidst rolling hills covered in long grasses whose feathery tips are turning bright shades of russet, plum, and gold.
I’m singing a song that has been with me for weeks, and it goes like this:
You can’t live here in this small space
You can’t live here anymore
Unlatch the ceiling, unlatch the floor,
Unlatch the walls, unlatch the door!
See the possibility of being anything
Wanna be an angel?
Start growing your wings!
You can’t live here in this small space
You can’t live here anymore
Unlatch the ceiling, unlatch the floor,
Unlatch the walls, unlatch the door!
What is the beauty
That you see with your own eyes?
Paint the ceiling with it
Of the bright blue sky
You’ve got all the time
You’ve got all the time
What will you be
In a thousand lifetimes?
You can’t live here in this small space
You can’t live here anymore!
The song requires me to do exactly what the song is about — to let my full voice out. It coaxes the contained, controlled voice to step into a wider sphere where it is possible to accept more of myself, relax about what needs to be done, and embrace what is possible right now …
… in a spirit of Thanksgiving.
(painting by Andrew Wyeth)