Divine fault lines

Finding the fun...or trying to

I’m not someone who loves driving. Commuting by car really gets me down. Give me public transport where I can people watch and zone out, I’m well satisfied.

But there’s one car trip I enjoy each week without fail- driving my daughter to and from her gymnastics class on Saturday morning. Because, while the road’s always the same, the journey is not. It’s music appreciation class. It’s car karaoke. It’s a seated dance party.

It’s fun.

I grew up in a household full of music. My dad didn’t play with us a whole lot (if ever). Lots of arguing, all the time. But every so often an impromptu dance party would breakout. Usually in the kitchen. Sometimes migrating into the loungeroom. A few minutes in a lifetime, etched into my brain as a joyful memory.

Because, it was fun.

It’s only been in the past six months or so that I’ve been getting back into listening to music on a routine basis. I’m not sure when it stopped. It makes me kind of sad that I let it stop. But, it’s back now. That’s the important bit, I guess.

Saturday mornings during the gymnastics session is my dedicated time for listening to an album the old fashioned way. From start to finish. With attention and intention.

This week’s listen was Angie McMahon’s Light, Dark, Light Again. My obsession since it prompted my emotional release around a month ago. Feels like the soundtrack to my life right now.

I’m not going through anything that many others haven’t been through before. The acceptance that you need to check in and reassess where things are at from time to time. It’s what you’re supposed to do as a proper adult, right?

Of course, challenge comes when those check in moments don’t give you the positive feedback you were hoping for. When you realise that independent growth has created a fracture between yourself and your secure base of eighteen years. That neither of you are the people you really want to be, anymore. That it’s time to change things up.

Once that kind of fault line opens up, it’s hard to ignore. It’s not fun.

The thing about fault lines is that they’re a force of constructive destruction. They might give rise to unfavourable conditions in the short term, sure, but context shifts. In time, they give rise to new structures and more fertile ground. In time.

Getting through the rebuild is tough though, there’s no getting around it. In between’s aren’t fun.

Which has lead me to wonder - does something have to be fully fun to still be fun?

I think about this when I watch the kids show Bluey. Some parents get all annoyed that it sets unreasonably high standards about how they’re ‘expected’ to play with their children. But I don’t look at it that way. I see it as a sign that sometimes, seven minutes is enough¹. A snippet of joy can write a memory in indelible ink. A twinkle that remains no matter how dark it all gets. Something to hold onto.

Nothing is going to make this period of my life easy. Transitions are hard, and uncertain, and scary. These conditions are ripe for anxiety to take hold and eliminate all sense of joy. If that’s not the life I want, I need to make an effort.

I might not be able to control what the universe brings my way, but I can make sure I make room for joy. Make time for people and activities that help me feel more grounded and more at ease. Resist the pull to be rational all the time, and allow myself to be open and vulnerable. Write about my feelings and share it on the internet. Dance in the kitchen with reckless abandon. Strum my guitar chords badly, with gusto. Swim laps while my daughter does her swimming lessons rather than sitting on the sideline doomscrolling for 30 minutes. Tickle my son into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Go headlong in and savour the joyful moments of everyday life that are there, when they’re there. Even if it’s only seven minutes.

With my weekly music beach walk, this means turning it into a multisensory experience. Taking my shoes off and walking through the water. Feeling the breeze on my skin. Tasting the salt. Admiring the light glistening through the water. Not giving a fuck whatever anyone else is doing. Losing myself in life, and trying not to fall over.

Finding the fun.

A rare capture of an impromptu dance party that migrated to the loungeroom.

It’s hard not to feel some joy in these conditions.

Divine Fault Line - Angie McMahon

I'm learning to love my skin, I'm learning to dive right in
I think it's time to sweep the eggshells clean
I'm starting to dance again, I'm using my hands again
And out of the headwind, I'm hearing the sirens saying

Don't get cold feet once it gets steep
(I've been slow and so trepidatious) don't keep
(And not knowing if I could make it) waitin'
(Cut my body off from itself, got no water left in the well) let it break in
(I've been slow and so trepidatious) hurt, hurt
(And not knowing if I could make it) hurt, free
(Cut my body off from itself, got no water left in the well) hurt, hurt

You're on your own dark side of the border tonight
And you're all fucked up, and you're wantin' to die
And that's the place where the breaking out begins
It's the divine fault-line opening

I'm tired of where I've been, out in the dark, looking in
How do they move so easy, I keep on freezing
Why can't I leap over the break?
The way that animals behave when their life's at stake

don't get
(And not calling if I could make it) cold feet
(Cut my body off from itself) once it
(Got no water left in the well) gets steep
(I've been slow and so trepidatious) hurt, hurt
(And not knowing if I could make it) hurt, free
(Cut my body off from itself, got no water left in the well) hurt, hurt, hurt

You're on your own dark side of the border tonight
And you're all fucked up, and you're wantin' to die
And that's the place where the breaking out begins
It's the divine fault-line opening

Don't get cold feet once it gets steep
Hurt, hurt, hurt, free, hurt, hurt, hurt, free

hurt, hurt
(And not knowing if I could make it) hurt, free
(Cut my body off from itself) hurt, hurt
(Got no water left in the well) hurt, free

hurt, hurt
(And not knowing if I could make it) hurt, free
(Cut my body off from itself) free, free
(Got no water left in the well) free, free

You're on your own dark side of the border tonight
And you're all fucked up, and you're wanting to die
And that's the place where the breaking out begins
It's the divine fault-line opening

And for the sake of not holding onto things, I'm going headlong in
And for the sake of not holding onto things, for the sake of not holding onto things
And for the sake of not holding onto things, I'm going headlong in
And for the sake of not holding onto things, and for the sake of not holding onto things
And for the sake of not holding onto things

1. Bluey episodes are seven minutes long. So yeah, parents might get all uppity thinking this fictional animated dog family are setting too high expectations about how to play with kids, but also…it’s seven minutes out of 24 hours! We don’t know what the rest of their day was like. All this talk of seven minutes of joy also makes me think of seven minutes of heaven…another life snippet that could give rise to either joyful or traumatic memories that stay with you forever.