a story of integration, dis-integration + re-integration.
the final moments of "lunacy" as an album are aboard a wave-tossed vessel that was put out to sea as a final act of relinquishing control, of openness to whatever is ahead, of surrender to the winds + currents of fate (without a corresponding belief in fatalism). this living moment-to-moment is what i mean by "the second naïveté."
i feel there might be more revolutionary potential + actual love in living like this is all there is (as opposed to superstitiously opting to defer to a conjectural, unknown future); if we chose to live as if that dash between birth + death was all there is, i’m persuaded we would make more authentic decisions, better use of our time + not kill as many people with our thoughts, words + actions.
how many times have we ardently asked for something good + it wasn’t given to us? and to turn the analogy around, how many times have my kids called me in the middle of the night because they were sick or had a bad dream + i immediately came to their aid (despite losing my cool with them earlier that day + valuing undisturbed sleep)? in answer to both of those questions: consistently.
the song is highly sarcastic, since dealing with this type of rejection head-on would conceivably have resulted in a much more caustic song. but i wasn't willing to go there. because in spite of all my misgivings/cynicism related to confessional christianity, love as a guiding principle remains an ideal for me.
no matter how many times we repeat the cycle of absconding our impermanence by attempting to project ourselves into the heavens, maybe we are unwelcome foreigners there.