May 10,2018

This is one of the old rock and roll songs playing on the radio as I was cleaning windows at the house of an aging hippie and his wife.

I think, “That could’a been me.”

It was turned up high, so you could hear it from anywhere in the house.

I used to love this stuff.

I have to admit, it was nostalgic.

Ah, “nostalgic.” What a pleasant word.

Okay, maybe “nostalgic” doesn’t describe it that well.

It did bring back memories.

Memories of a time when loud music helped drown out my emptiness and feelings of insecurity, and doubt.

Did I say “insecurity”?

“Turn that up! I love that song!” (I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me…)

The old days…when life was simple…live for the moment…don’t worry, be happy…if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with…we can change the world, rearrange the world…imagine there’s no heaven… Hello darkness, my old friend…

That’s what it was…a feeling of darkness.

Not in me…the light has overcome the darkness…

In the house.

The music brought back the memories of life before…life that was dark…life that was empty.

The music that used to excite…it sounds so empty…so desperate…so needy.

But I realized what was wrong…

When the music was playing, I couldn’t hear the voice of the One that I love…

That still, small whisper…

The voice that fills that place inside…

That I tried to fill with noise before…

Until I heard it for the first time…

“You must be born again!”