No Gilded Cage

Another (apparently) bootleg video of Sara Bareilles arrived in my YouTube feed. She does a singer songwriter cover of a pop song by Sia. Titled “Chandelier,” it's not a song I would have heard otherwise. It doesn't even seem like something that would normally make it into my blog. It's about a party girl with whom my thirty-year old self might have identified. Deeper than that, the song is about the undercurrents of addiction that are hard to escape. What I hear though is a spiritual meaning in the song. Having for several years been immersed in the dharma, its teaching appears everywhere. I often say the dharma has his own curriculum; usually that means revealing Buddhist or spiritual teachings at the right time. Seems it’s also finding them in what seem like unlikely places.

As with previous song lyrics, these ones keep ringing in my ears. That’s not unusual especially as Sara’s incredible voice is very resonant, but when it’s so persistent I turn to look at it more closely. This is more than a popular party song. The girl is suppressing something: "push it down, push it down" she sings, which is what we do with anything we don't want to feel. I could see some of that at the recent celebration of life for my parents-in-law. People averting their eyes so as not to cry in public or keeping busy so as not to hear the emotional songs that were playing. It was a beautiful day. Leading up to it was an emotional roller coaster as I helped Michael gather photos and put them together for the celebration. Lots of laughter, lots of tears, lots of stills of lives lived. It is poignant to see the whole life of a couple flash by in about 200 photographs — in part because we know a whole lot is missing from those photos, but also, it brings home how fleeting it all is. An 87-year-old friend present at the celebration posed the question, “Where on God’s green earth did it all go?” We had no answer.

Many of us in our youth would have identified with the party girl, Patti and Norm included. Good times, good songs, and too much to drink. Even when addiction isn’t souring everything, so many of us are well-practised in pushing down whatever emotions are arising. The chorus chimes with "one, two, three, one, two, three, drink/one, two, three, one, two, three, drink/throw 'em back ’til I lose count.” Its staccato rhythm is catchy as you'll hear if you listen to the music in the links below. And as it kept ringing in my ears, it echoed how much of life is that way. How often we are reaching for the next thing: before number one is done, we want number two. Before we finish chewing number two, we think about eating number three. The mind is insatiable and has endless wants and aversions. Like writing this blog is rewarding in itself, but I “need” a coffee beside me or a kombucha with frozen mango.

Later, the song brings in “here comes the shame,” for having over-indulged, again. We are a society of excess. How much of that is to bury emotion, trauma, or shame on a self-perpetuating merry-go-round? But we can also ask, how much is misguided seeking? An important shift in perspective can happen here: all the heady seeking was, at its core, seeking for real and lasting happiness. It was simply off-target, misguided. Once I saw this truth, I heartily forgave myself for all the boys and cars and drinks and chandeliers. Maybe those things need to happen before we realize they create discontent, that they are not offering lasting or natural joy.

The main hook in the chorus is, "I’m gonna swing from the chandelier" — that heady party feeling that one can’t get enough of. Or, in the case of addiction, that one needs in order to feel normal. Even a well-liked social media post can be elating, as can a fruitful guided meditation, a fabulous trip, or good times with family. Life is beautifully made up of all those things. There is absolutely nothing wrong with swinging from the chandelier if the occasion calls for it, however, it often leaves us somehow emptily desiring more. If you cannot be happy without a constant flow of good feelings, discontent settles in and becomes the main flavour of life — a niggling sensation that something is wrong. That makes it very hard to get off the merry-go-round of dulling the pain.

Another lyric from this song is “I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night." Some owls fly at night. They are a symbol of wisdom because they can see in the dark and because they can see all around them. They have a wider perspective from which to view the field. Birds in general are free. Like we can be free from the prison of the mind that constantly wants something else and only sees the things it wants/doesn’t want. Stepping back from that constant wanting puts it in a bigger field, a greater context, a larger perspective, to see that maybe it’s not so important after all. If you check in with the state of your mind right now, there might be that sense of seeking, hoping for some golden nugget, some reward, something beautiful or exciting. Or there might be that niggling sense of something wrong. Then pull back as if engaging your peripheral vision. Notice how much else there is in this present moment. Isn’t there a larger field of view then — in which that desire/aversion seems, at least, less pressing. That is the space between the stimulus and the response. When it opens up, there is greater possibility and, usually, greater love.

In the overview afforded us by Patti and Norm’s photos, and by the speeches and stories about them, love was the main thing. It was so clear that they loved their family and friends. Sometimes this manifested as addiction and recovery, worry and angst, but love is what they leave us with. That and the simple joys of being with children and of being on the water waiting for fish. It doesn’t really matter if you catch the big one or if the child is crying. If you are only focused on the big catch or on getting good behaviour from your grandchildren, the situation becomes restricted in a way that diverts natural peace and happiness. Whereas, there is peace in the waiting and joy in hugging the crying child. This is the deeper happiness we seek.

The song also evokes moments of intense denial: "I'm hanging on for dear life/won't look down/won't open my eyes." Can't we all remember a time in our lives when that was true? Some intense suffering from which there was no way out, when the desire to reach for a fix is stronger than the ability to open our eyes. Sometimes life is incredibly painful. Now, by “I want to live like tomorrow doesn’t exist,” perhaps Sia meant to escape those hard times that seem so hopeless. Or she sang of those good times that feel so good the consequences don’t matter — only now matters. And then I hear in this the spiritual truth that now is all there is. Is the memory of yesterday any more real than a dream? Tomorrow, will what is happening right now likewise have a dreamlike quality? And truly, what is tomorrow, but a dream? Not to mention that now is. Only. Ever. Now.

The Buddhist classic, Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism, is devoted to undercutting the tendency for spirituality to fall into the realm of ego with its habits of suppressing, escaping, or attempting to control difficult circumstances. For me, for example, it can be preferable to sit in blissful states of awareness free from this tortured body, free from worry about the future, free from fear of pain and helplessness. I began to wonder if these lyrics were echoing in my head with a call to check on this again. What am I pushing down if anything? Am I throwing back stimulants of any kind until I’m numb? Am I hanging on for dear life afraid to look down, afraid to look boldly, bravely, and honestly at what is here? I wrote last time about trusting Life. When is it unshakable trust and is it ever just glossing over the difficult stuff? Each of my teachers has said that our relationships and our relationship to life is a sure measurement of living an authentic life. Is there harmony in your relationships? Is there harmony with the circumstances of life?

As I sip my coffee and eat another cinnamon bun, I can say, “yes and no.” But mostly “yes.” The chandelier is actually right here because life lived authentically in any moment is so rich. Whenever I check in, I'm already swinging from it. Sometimes it's scary, sometimes it's fun, and when it’s steady, the view is always spectacular. It could easily become a gilded birdcage, another prison of misguided seeking. Whatever happens, open your eyes, look down, step back and look all around, for love is here and peace is here. Harmony is the natural order of things although it’s hard to see this from up close.

~

“Chandelier,” I've learned, speaks to millions of people about addiction and depression. Sia's music video is quite powerful. And here is Sara Bareilles’ performance.

Here is a compelling account of the journey from prison to freedom through addiction and recovery by spiritual teacher, performance coach, and author, George Mumford — Unlocked: Embrace Your Greatness, Find the Flow, Discover Success.

And a clear recounting of fear and the value of looking down and around from Buddhist nun, Ayyā Medhānandī of Sati Saraniya Hermitage: “Truly Ascend.”