Below My Feet

There is something so calming about the rain. When it falls in sheets outside and pounds the ground with a firm viciousness, there is something that stirs within me. This feeling that everything is okay, and if it isn't, it will be. It's comforting to think that there is a storm raging outside, but inside, at my perch by the window with a pen in hand, or a book, everything is placid.

The past few days in Louisiana have brought heavy rains along with contemplative thoughts and opportunities to cuddle with my aunt's puppy Winston. I keep finding myself humming one of the new Mumford & Sons songs that I heard at Memphis in May. It's called "Below My Feet" and, following M&S tradition, the music is beautiful. But there is more to it than that. The lyrics seem to strike this hidden nerve every time I listen to it. So there I am, brushing my teeth, staring into the tiny foldout mirror at this pale face with raw lips and mini-canyons underneath her tired eyes, and I start whisper-singing the lyrics to myself.

Keep the earth below my feet. For all my sweat, my blood runs weak.

And everything seems a little clearer. Things aren't ever easy. Sometimes we have to stifle the urge to throw our heads to the ground and press our ears against the dirt as if we could possibly catch a glimpse into the secrets of what is going on. But we have to utter that plea- to keep the earth below our feet. Because if we let that chilling darkness overcome us and stumble, we're going to be tumbling down this rabbit hole with all kinds of things we may not want to face. But if we stand strong, feel the grass growing beneath our toes, maybe, just maybe, we'll be okay.
And sometimes we work so hard. Work so hard to pretend like everything is wonderful and it's a weary job. I love that part of the song the most, I think. For all my sweat, for all my hard work and strenuous labor, my blood, the very thing running marathons inside my body to keep every organ working properly and assuring my life, well, it still runs weak. I'm still weak. I'll always be weak, it's just a matter of staying put and never giving up. At Mass last weekend, there was this passage that spoke of how we never truly understand what other people are going through. People die. Hearts break. Times are hard. Yet we can never quite grasp what dwells in someone else's soul. Mumford and Sons reminds me of that.
Let me learn from where I have been. So keep my eyes discerned, my hands to learn. We have to keep our paths in memory. Let the faded footprints from our past remain as guides to the future, to hurt less, work harder. So we peel our eyes back and take it all in. We train our hands to never take things for granted and always take more, more, more in.

I've only made one B as a final grade in my entire life and that was in Trigonometry in the eleventh grade. I'm an academic freak and I work hard, but with the rain and the scary reflection in the mirror late at night and the lovely band Mumford & Sons, I have realized something that I never really grasped in school or in my classes.

There's no turning back, there's no giving up. I've got to keep learning, keep fighting, whether it's writer's block or loss or a memory that I can't seem to shake. We make the choice to keep our feet on the ground. It's that, or lose everything.
I'm sitting here listening to the rain with the earth below my feet, no intention of ever toppling.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usjeeJR4hbU&feature=channel_video_title