Labour of Love ~ An Anthem

So, after a full and busy day more unsettling correspondence comes our way.

I hate how unsettled I get when I feel willfully misunderstood. I should know by now that there is no reason for another person to understand the hows and whys of my thoughts. I should expect to be misunderstood and thus operate from a position of expecting to have to clarify. However, this ceases to work for me when there is no opportunity to clarify, no opportunity to answer the charges, no opportunity to turn away wrath, no opportunity to heal wounds...

As I try to process all alone on a cold winter's night, my heart and mind returns to this song that I have been recently reflecting on it. On a weekly basis, I have found myself able to sit and bask in the sentiment expressed by Stephen Hatfield's Labour of Love. In my mind, I think that it's a bit of an anthem for a mystic... ...not that I consider myself a mystic but if it's true, in the words of Bruce Chatwin, that: '..the search for the divine turns people into nomads...' Maybe the search for connectedness to the divine turns us all onto the path of the mystic.

~~~
Let me set the scene for this lovely choral piece.
The tune is based out of a Irish/Scottish song called Fear an Bhata (The Boatman).

Think celtic, the sea and longing...

~~~
Labour of Love (Stephen Hatfield)

Take me, somewhere. Take me somewhere. Take me somewhere. Carry me on.
Carry me to somewhere, where ever, carry me to somewhere, where ever, carry me to somewhere, where ever, carry me on to where there are people like me.

Verse 1:
They brought me to the doctor. She said, "It's the clearest case I've ever seen. This kid needs a ransom, (s)he needs a genie, (s)he needs a ship sailing where (s)he was always meant to be.

Verse 2:
They brought me next to the altar. Know how you feel said the voice behind the screen. This world needs a ransom, we need a genie, we need a ship sailing where we were always meant to be.

Verse 3:
We're standing here in our order. The chords in our voice hoist the sails into the breeze. We'll give you our heart, give you our breathing, give you the ship that could sail Abelard to Eloise.

And you know I'll be looking for someone, and I'll be looking for someone, and I'll be looking our for you there, somewhere there are people like me... somewhere there are people like me... somewhere there are people like me. Somewhere there are people like me.
~~~

I think that the longing for depth of connectedness both to God and the world leaves me a bit raw sometimes. And we all know when we are raw we feel more deeply the pain of the world that we live in.

Maybe sleep will yet come...