Love is a mystery that weaves through a shadowy labyrinth of truths and lies, myths and realities, confidences and insecurities, black and whites standing as outliers in a massive rolling fog of grey.
This state of often blissful chaos is particularly acute in new, untested, volcanic love. Rocket scientists and soothsayers don’t have a prayer of understanding what’s really going on.
Does she love me? Do I love her? Is she loyal? What does she fail to tell me? Can I read her daydreams? Will I be able to lean on her? Will I want to? What if? How about? Will there be a dividing day when the ether of love evaporates before our eyes? Will only one of us see the loss? Will it be me? Will I admit it? Will she be the first to know? The only one?
Love has so much to give. Love has so much to take. When matters of the mind are at risk in life, the penalties of loss can be steep. When the heart is in jeopardy, the loss can be overwhelming, unbearable, nearly too much to take. And although it appears that love resides in the mind and the heart, it is really firmly planted in the latter.
Nothing captures this confusing, delirious, confounding, supremely exhilarating waterfall of emotions, hints, instincts, aspirations and trepidation nearly as well as Counting Crows “Anna Begins.” This gem of a song delivers what art is meant to be: a prism through which we can see a reality that hides behind or is camouflaged by the conventions and the protocols of life.
Listen to Adam cry out to and about Anna. Is she really beginning or is she ending? Is it dividing day or just a bump in the road? Who or what is your Anna? When will you face it?
Will you ever? Or will it all disappear while you are looking, intentionally, the other way?