Tag Archives: depression

Gratitude as a grounding practice in 2020: Song Analysis #67: Johnny Nash – I Can See Clearly Now

I chose today’s song for analysis because it’s one whose original meaning I never would have guessed in a million years. What I love about it is that while so many of us have been off the mark about its meaning, I am sure that its legacy is far greater than the songwriter ever could have imagined.

Before 6 in the morning this past Sunday, I woke up feeling something in the pit of my stomach. Something’s not quite right, I said to myself. I turned over and over in bed, and the feeling would not go away. My eyes snapped open. I started to get very nervous. There was no way I was getting back to sleep. Depending on my connection to them and how strong the feelings are, I can feel anxiety from the people I know when they are in trouble or are emotional. But in past experience, that only happens when I’m awake.

I went downstairs and started doing some gentle stretches and movements to see if I would feel any better. In an attempt to defuse the worry inside me, I tried to laugh at myself. You’re imagining it. This isn’t that bad. Maybe it’s just gas, you idiot. But that didn’t make any sense to me. You didn’t eat anything funny, you didn’t eat right before bed, and you definitely ate hours ago. Trust a biologist to try and rationalize the actions of the human body. So predictable. Still, a warm cup of tea might do the trick…

The tea did help, thankfully. But as I was warming the water for a second cup, I noticed something else as I looked out the kitchen window and into the back garden. It was half-light of the early dawn. This time of the morning, I should be fast asleep. As I continued to look out the window, mug in hand, I noticed two birds flying together, right over a clearing on the property. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a brown furry creature. It was a fox sauntering across the back patio. The relaxed way he walked, it was like he owned the place. I chuckled to myself.

If I hadn’t been awake, I wouldn’t have witnessed either of these events.

I began to consider that I was meant to wake up when I did. That the divine (in the spiritual sense more than the religious) wanted to jolt me enough with stomach pains to get me out of bed, put on my favorite old sweater, venture downstairs, and see with my eyes something so amazing. I stood there in awe as the sun slowly made its ascent over the house.

Unless you count the sunrises I’ve seen out the window of a train, bus, or a taxi leaving home or while in the UK, sunrises are not something I go out of my way to catch. In my travels, they have always been associated with either the excitement of an impending vacation or the deflating anticipation of leaving the land I love and returning home.

The sun rises every morning without fail, then sets in the evening to go to bed, readying itself for the next day to rise again. As if it was just like us.

I now began to feel some guilt that this magic has occurred every day of my life, and I never paid any attention. After months of struggle, it was this weekend that I felt I was truly starting to see the light in my life. Just like I imagine it has been for many of you reading this, 2020 has been my wake-up call to the things I have missed. For me, the process stepped on the proverbial gas on the second Friday of January, when one of our own died after a valiant battle with cancer. This year has also given me a bigger push to identify where I have not been honoring myself as a human being and as a woman.

Of course, the coronavirus itself is not a blessing, as it is sickened and killed so many of our fellow humans. However, what the virus has done is given us a blessing in disguise, the ability to hit pause on our lives, so often often by blind responsibility and the need to succeed and gain material wealth, and in more recent years, too much attention to those electronic devices always in our hands. I really like to travel and the majority of my friends live abroad, so I must admit that my first concern once lockdown measures were taken was a purely selfish one. How and when would I ever be able to leave the country and see my friends again?

As coronavirus revealed itself to be a doctor’s worst nightmare – highly contagious and highly destructive to the human body – my mood shifted morosely. Fear, for myself, my family, and my friends’ well-being set in. We’ve all gotten past the initial shock of a worldwide pandemic, and so much has changed.

Consider for yourself how you have changed during this year. Now that many aspects of what we knew as our normal everyday lives have gone quiet, have you become more grateful for what you do have? In modern America, never before since the Great Depression have we been more grateful to have our health, running water, a roof over our heads, a safe place to sleep, and something to eat.

If you have been struggling with how your life has changed, I encourage you to begin a daily gratitude exercise, if you aren’t already doing this. I must admit that in the past when this was suggested to me, I balked, thinking this was new age crazy talk, and it wouldn’t actually do anything. There are direct, documented medical benefits to practicing gratitude, not to mention that it itself is an effective, free, and easy to use tool to ground yourself.

Now, on to the lyrics and the analysis!

Title: ‘I Can See Clearly Now’
Where to find it: ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ and ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ single (1972, Epic)
Performed by: Johnny Nash (and later, just as famously, by Jimmy Cliff)
Words by: Johnny Nash

Verse 1
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day

Verse 2
Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day

Bridge
(Ooh…) Look all around, there’s nothing but blue skies
Look straight ahead, there’s nothing but blue skies

Verse 3
I can see clearly now the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day
It’s going to be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day

Outro
Yeah, hey, it’s gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright)
Sunshiny day

If you’re my age, you probably associate ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ with the 1993 Winter Olympics-themed Disney film Cool Runnings. Although the storyline took liberties with the true story behind the 1988 Jamaican bobsled team, the film is one of those “rooting for the underdog” type of movies that never fails to inspire. Sad or depressed? Watch it to enjoy the palm trees and laugh at the seemingly ridiculous premise of a bunch of runners on a tropical island who want to be Winter Olympians, then feel good when their efforts are redeemed in the powerful ending.

Even if you don’t like reggae (which I don’t), there’s a lot to love about this song. For starters, whether he intended to or not, Johnny Nash used words that are easy to sing along to, as well as take advantage of a note progression that isn’t too hard for vocal cords to follow. It’s all very evocative without trying too hard to be so. What could be more easily imagined in your mind’s eye than a beautiful sun, rainbows, and dark clouds? For these reasons, this is a great song to teach kids.

What is likely to be lost on children is the redemptive tones of the song. As children, we are carefree and don’t think too hard about serious troubles. It’s when we are adults that our ills, responsibilities, failures, anything looming large really start to bother us. Worry, anxiety, and depression, in their varying degrees, creep in. We lose sleep, self-esteem, and possibly even our own sanity.

From personal experience having heard it myself, quite possibly the worst thing you can say to a person who’s depressed is “it can’t be that bad.” The problem with depression is that when you’re inside it, it’s like you’re stuck in an entirely black, sunless abyss with no way out. It’s so dark that if there are any escape routes, any ropes to footholds to grab, or even a glancing hope that when it gets light out again, you might be able to come out, you can’t see any of it. Yes, perhaps the almost Disney-fied image of a rainbow being revealed after the dark clouds have parted is an oversimplification, but for a radio-friendly pop single clocking in at less than 3 minutes, we must give Nash the benefit of the doubt.

Outside of its film connection, why did ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ become such a memorable track? It should come as no surprise that the tune has been used in numerous advertisements, ranging from allergy medication, window cleaner, and even instant coffee. I could have sworn an American eyeglass store used it, too. I worked for a time in advertising sync, a very competitive business. As someone who spends inordinate amounts of time interpreting lyrics, one of the most disappointing things I learned about syncing was that the company selling the product are often all too happy to match a song to their products literally with the words, often discounting the feeling or mood of the song.

I suppose it is appropriate, then, to learn that in the case of ‘I Can See Clearly Now,’ legend has it that Nash wrote the lyrics to the song while recovering from cataract surgery and are therefore pretty much literal. Check out Nash performing the song on The Midnight Special in 1973 below.

Surviving the spectre of COVID-19 / “Song Analysis” #61: Pet Shop Boys – Numb

I have been writing quite a lot during the pandemic, but there’s a lot of drafts that sit unfinished. Every time I’ve started a new draft of one of these analyses, I think about how infinitesimally unimportant my writing is in the current world we live in, and I feel guilty. People are fighting for their lives from hospital beds and from the streets. There are pockets of unrest and discord all over the world that look like tinderboxes ready to explode at any moment.

None of us here on Earth have a crystal ball, but I think it’s safe to say that everyone on this planet is in for a rough ride for the foreseeable future. There are a lot of people hurting, confused, and feeling hopeless. There is a lot of advice out there already, but I wanted to provide my take on things you can do today that will help you cope during this difficult time.

My best recommendation? Stay safe and healthy, which means isolating when and where you can and wearing a mask if you must go out and interface with other people. If you need help, reach out. I cannot stress this enough. Life is always tough, but it’s especially tough now given that many of the usual, healthy coping mechanisms like seeing friends, being social, and going to the gym are prohibited or may look very different than what we’re used to. We’re going through an unprecedented time, and the feelings you have may be unfamiliar or heightened. None of this “I have to be productive like everyone else in isolation” if your mind can’t go there. It’s self-defeating and entirely unhelpful. Don’t compare your response to that of others. We all react to stress in different ways. Give yourself plenty of slack. Be gentle with yourself.

If you haven’t already tried this, a constructive, artistic outlet to release your negative feelings can really help. It’s a great option if meditation, sitting still, and contemplating your navel doesn’t work for you. Listening, dancing, and/or singing to music can be therapeutic. Writing out your feelings can be another big help. Just getting it out on paper is a good exercise to get it out of your system. Writers like me do this all the time.

Above all, if you’re feeling anxious or depressed, please don’t suffer in silence. It isn’t hopeless. Help is available. I saw this Instagram post from A Safe Place Inside Your Head recently, and it really hit home for me. I can help you find other resources, too. Find me on Twitter.

Title: ‘Numb’
Where to find it: ‘Fundamental’ (2006, Parlophone [UK], Rhino [US]); ‘Concrete’ (2006 live album, Parlophone [UK])
Performed by: Pet Shop Boys
Words by: Diane Warren

I put song analysis in quotes in the title of this post, because I feel that the words of the below song are self-explanatory. I did, however, want to post the lyrics for the person who is reading this post, can relate to them, and may find solace in the song as a whole. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with disconnecting from the news and social media right now. We are in the middle of an emotionally overwhelming situation, with the end and resolution uncertain.

I’ve been listening to a bunch of different music while in isolation. In the past week, I’ve been seeking out live albums on Spotify that I’ve never heard before. I came across ‘Concrete’, a 2006 live album of the Pet Shop Boys that was recorded for a BBC Radio 2 programmed called Sold on Song. Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe specifically chose songs for the setlist that had been previously written to have orchestral backing, making this a beautifully unique set.

‘Numb’ is an unusual song to feature on Music in Notes, in that the song was not written by the Pet Shop Boys themselves. It was written by Diane Warren, a well-known name in the pop music world, having penned many a mainstream top 40 hit. The song was a single off their 2006 album ‘Fundamental’. This song follows 3 years later after another famous tune called ‘Numb’ by a singer we sadly lost in 2017.

I hope that if you’re reading this post, reading the lyrics, watching the live performance in Mexico, and hearing Neil Tennant’s plaintive voice below provide you some solace. Please know you’re not alone.

Verse 1
Don’t wanna hear the news
What’s going on
What’s coming through
I don’t wanna know
don’t wanna know
Just wanna hide away
make my my escape
I want the world
to leave me alone
Feels like I feel too much
I’ve seen too much
For a little while
I want to forget

Chorus 1
I wanna be numb
I don’t wanna feel this pain no more
Wanna lose touch
I just wanna go and lock the door
I don’t wanna think
I don’t wanna feel nothing
I wanna be numb
I just wanna be
wanna be numb

Verse 2
Can’t find no space to breathe
World’s closing in
right on me now
Well that’s how it feels
that’s how it feels
Too much light
There’s too much sound
Wanna turn it off
Wanna shut it out
I need some relief
Think that I think too much
I’ve seen too much
There is just too much
thought in my head

Chorus
I wanna be numb
I don’t wanna feel this pain no more
Wanna lose touch
I just wanna go and lock the door
I don’t wanna think
I don’t wanna feel nothing
I wanna be numb
I just wanna be
wanna be

Bridge
Taken away from all the madness
Need to escape
escape from the pain
I’m out on the edge
about to lose my mind
For a little while
For a little while
I wanna be numb

Chorus 2
I don’t wanna think
I don’t wanna feel nothing
I wanna be numb
I don’t wanna feel this pain no more
Wanna lose touch
I just wanna go and lock the door
I don’t wanna think
I don’t wanna feel nothing
I wanna be numb
I just wanna be
wanna be numb
I just wanna be
wanna be numb

Outro
All the madness
I wanna be numb

Keane week on One Week // One Band, TWLOHA, and depression

As described in this post from back in April, I have been working on a series of articles about a particular band during my takeover of a Web site called One Week // One Band. I had been thinking about contributing for some time, but I didn’t sit down and starting drawing up an outline until I was on my way to Austin by plane for SXSW 2015. Due to many factors including extenuating circumstances in my department at work in April, physical and mental exhaustion, and preparing to go to England and Ireland to cover music festivals and shows in May, I ended up getting delayed with my writing and had to ask OWOB editor Hendrik if I could have more time. I thank him a whole lot for being so flexible. I knew I really wanted to do a good job with and be proud of the content I would share with the world, and I couldn’t when I wasn’t in an inspired state to write.

I find it strangely coincidental that during my time of listening and relistening to Keane songs I had known so well for this project, I found myself in a bad place emotionally and actually really and truly needed Keane there for me right then. There wasn’t a particular stressor or trigger; things in my life have just snowballed and some incidents on my trip acted like a slap in the face, and in rapid succession. Perhaps it was when I had finally boarded my very delayed flight back to Washington and watched the film ‘version’ of To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA) that my body at last decided to respond to this wakeup call. Had I been anywhere else but in an airplane over the Atlantic, I would have been freaking out, shaking wildly, pacing back and forth. Instead, I excused myself to one of the lavatories and just stayed in there, sobbing for over 15 minutes, blowing my nose, and wiping my eyes until I felt I could emerge and pass myself off as normal.

Right. Normal. Something most people pull off effortlessly every day, and yet on this Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t.

On a nighttime run this past week, I thought about a time some years ago when I was in the office kitchen, waiting in line to use the sink to wash my hands. Two of my coworkers were chatting. I remember the moment vividly, because I’d walked into the room as one of them said to the other that he couldn’t understand how someone could ever feel so bad and hopeless about his life that he would be driven to kill himself. He went to say to the other woman, “it’s unbelievable, I just don’t know anyone who is depressed!” He even laughed about it to her.

What? You’ve never met anyone who has depression? I almost turned around to leave. But I said silently to myself, “no. Stay. You can get through this. They’ll leave the room, and you’ll be fine.”

I sucked in my breath quickly and quietly to prevent myself from gasping. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. Wow, you really have no idea, do you?

That’s the thing about people who have depression. Unless we are physically incapable of getting out of bed and going to work, we look, sound, and generally act like everyone else. Because even on bad days – especially the bad days – we make an extra effort to hide how we feel. These comments I heard at work were not only hurtful to me personally but to each and every person who has struggled with their own battle with mental illness. Trivializing someone’s own struggles or worse, blaming the person for not seeking help fast enough as what happened in the case of the suicide of Robin Williams, just goes to show how ignorant modern society is about mental illness and how it can affect just about anyone.

Anyone. Young or old. Male or female. Rich or poor. With a job or without one. Any race, color, or religion. Depression doesn’t discriminate.

People who have depression have it for their whole lives. Although our lives are a sea of good days mixed in with the bad, and the ratio of the two varies over time, often it’s difficult to make other people see and understand that our struggle isn’t like a switch you can turn on and off easily. Taking medication or seeing a medical professional certainly helps to get you of the dark places you’ve been stuck in, but even with assistance, there are invisible scars under the surface everyone else can’t see.

Music is very therapeutic to me for one very good reason: I don’t need anyone else when I decide to invoke it to help me when I need it. I’ve not had an easy life. Just in the last 5 years, I have been betrayed, left behind, and had my heart broken numerous times. But music has been the one constant even when the people I loved and cared about the most decided to write me out of their lives. I hope this importance of music to me is evident through my week of writing about Keane, even if I don’t go into my personal life on each and every post.

Something I find very special about Keane is that although Tim Rice-Oxley doesn’t avoid talking about sad situations like breakups and broken hearts, overall there is still a lot of positivity, forward thinking, hope, and light in Keane’s songs. It’s easy to write a slow sad song that is nothing but blackness and shadows. It’s much more difficult to write a sad song with an upbeat tempo that makes the listener think of different ideas and outcomes for him/herself. That’s what Tim is able to do and better than anyone else.

‘Sea Fog’ from their fourth album ‘Strangeland,’ for example, sounds mournful because the protagonist has had to come to accept that this journey with his loved one has come to an end. But this acceptance is parallel to the acceptance that this is fate, that everything happens for a reason. And things do happen for a reason. I feel very sure of that. It’s just very hard to see the sun behind the fog when all you’re surrounded by is grey and darkness, to have enough faith that there’s a day on the other side of the night.

I could have given up so many times. But I’m still here. The music I love, including Keane’s, have played a huge part in making sure that I am.

You can read all my posts on Keane on One Week // One Band in chronological order through here.

You’ve got time to realise you’re shielded by the hands of love.