Messes of Men by mewithoutYou
Listen to the song.
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
Sailing in our separate ships and from each tiny caravel.
Tiring of trying, there's a necessary dying,
Like the horseshoe crab in its proper season sheds its shell.
Such distance from our friends,
Like a scratch across the lens,
Made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood.
And our paper blew away before we'd left the bay.
So half-blind, we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood.
Caught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters.
The propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves,
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun.
The cloth low on the mast, I say I got no past,
I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son.
The tarnish on my brass, the mildew on my glass-
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me.
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure,
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I still tastes its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel.
To an anchor ever dropped, sea-sick yet still docked,
Captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel.
Floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong,
We keep our confessions long, but when we pray we keep it short.
I drank a thimble full of fire,
I'm not ever coming back...
Oh, my God.
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
While watching sink the heavy ship with everything we knew.
And if ever you come near, I'll hold up high a mirror.
Lord, I could never show you anything as beautiful as you!
****
Some songs seam to speak into a moment in life. Songs about a kiss or a date or a battle or a game -- all songs that are about a moment. Messes of Men always seemed to stick out as a song that was not in any moment, but was an autobiography.
The band, mewithoutYou, have been one of my favorite bands for a few years now. I just love how complicated the lyrics are. They're like a puzzle that, as you start to solve it, reveals something bigger to you.
This song, in my eyes, seems to hit the nail on the head when it comes to depicting the lifelong struggle that is to be a man in this world. Read the lyrics over and over and you'll see that in this complex rhythm of nautical metaphors, you get the biography of the average man.
He is unsure of himself. He is a loner with no real deep relationships. He is lusty. He is dissatisfied with life no matter which side of the fence he stands on. We wrestle with guilt of things past. We also ignore our pasts. As we age we become unsure of how to handle our aging bodies -- a species that prides itself on physical ability, when we begin to break down in age, we fear we are losing our dignity. We float through life, half-paying attention. Sure, we say we have direction. We want our careers and our possessions to go in a Northern direction, but we don't pay attention to the people around us. We are passive when it counts and aggressive when we're foolish.
This song is biography of most men. The more I hear it, the more I fear this song is my biography.
****
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist.
You know, I can remember being a pretty good, rule-following child. I never really got in trouble. I erred so poorly on the side of safety and not rocking the boat, that I missed out on a lot of great childhood experiences that can really only come from bending the rules. My self-worth was tied up in not getting in trouble and not experiencing shame.
I do remember a few times when I would do something bad. Maybe I threw a ball in the house or hit my brother. I can remember that, in those times of guilt, I just so badly wanted to disappear. I just wanted to vanish; be erased and come back in another life. I can remember, doing something that wasn't awful, it was just not a good choice. I hadn't committed murder at 5 years old, I had spilled milk on the floor. Yet, they were one and the same for me. I knew I had rocked the boat. I knew I had done wrong. So, tears streaking down my cheeks, I did the only thing I knew to do in those situations. I'd close my eyes, rock my body to and fro, and wish that I could disappear.
Here's a twist on an old verse: Do you remember the story of Adam & Eve? You know, the two nudists who were eating fruit from the forbidden tree. They ate the fruit, realized they had done a terrible thing, and immediately hid in the bushes. Then God comes strolling through the garden of Eden -- which is an odd thing to imagine, the Lord strolling. I can imagine him floating, but never walking. I almost feel like it's beneath Him.
Well, God is walking through the garden and, knowing that Adam & Eve are hiding, He says "Where are you?"
Two things: 1) God knows everything. Why is He asking? 2) If God knows everything, why are Adam and Eve hiding?
****
I'm 26 years old. The Lord has blessed me with a mouth large enough for my feet and has provided me many opportunities to do so. Weekly, I will say something incredibly insensitive or sarcastic. My tongue is always trailing my heart for weakest part of my body, but not by much.
The thing is, no matter what dumb thing I spew out of my mouth, the afterthought is always the same.
"You idiot. You numbskull. You did NOT just say that. Why did you say that? You aren't here. This isn't happening. This didn't just happen. You are not here. You are not here. You do not exist right now."
Q: So what exists and doesn't exist at the same time? A: Nothing.
****
Pretend for a second. Pretend you are Adam or Eve (depending on which accessories you're packing).
You've just broken the law. THE law. You have committed the first sin ever recorded in the history of -- well, you're the first people, so there's no history. But you just made history.
You just broke the rule of the all-powerful, triune God. A God that spoke everything into existence. This guy could kick you in the grapes so hard you cry Legos.
You have just done something that wouldn't technically happen until Sodom and Gomorrah: "You screwed the pooch".
What do you do? You hear footsteps coming. Maybe you hear whistling coming your way. Dogs don't whistle. Deer don't whistle. You are nervous. Maybe you invent two or three four-letter words as you try to find a bush to hide in.
You crouch down under the leaves and berries. A stick is poking you in the butt. Eve's elbowing you and standing on your toe. You are hiding desperately.
Tears streaming down your face you think to yourself: "This is not happening. This is not happening. This. Is. Not. Happening. I do not exist right now."
****
Men want to be in charge. We want to dictate our lives. We want to drive our own destinies. We want to be the Captains of our own ships. We tell women what to do. We tell our children what to do. We tell other men what to do. We say with our actions, recognize me as being great. The more people who respect me the better. The goal in life, the secret in life, the key to life -- is being respected and revered. All the greatest men who ever lived commanded respect.
Whether we admit it or not, men want to be seen as MEN. Tough, strong, bold, blah blah blah...just look at ANY advertisement aimed at men. They all say:
I'm single. For me, I only want to exist in a way that makes me look appealing to attractive, single women or people who are friends with attractive, single women and have the power to set me up. Given my propensity for making an ass out of myself, I exist for roughly 5-10 minutes a week.
But when I screw up. When I miss a deadline. When I say something dumb. When I am having relational friction between myself and a friend...I choose not to exist. To exist would mean to acknowledge life as it's really happening. To exist means I don't sugarcoat. To exist means that I apologize. To exist means that I must repent when I mess up. To exist means that I must seek counsel and community and prayer to face struggles with substance abuse or porn or pride, etc. To exist means that I don't wait for somebody to bring up the issue I don't want to talk about, but that I bring it up myself. To exist means that I realize I can't drive my own ship and that I need God. To exist means that I acknowledge when I have failed to love, to serve, to care -- and that I go to those people to ask for forgiveness.
When do you choose to not exist? When do you choose to ignore the issues at hand? When do you choose to hide in your competencies instead of being humble in your brokenness?
****
This song is meaningful to me, because it's been my modus operandi to minimize myself. I don't want to exist at times when I need to speak up. I don't want to exist at times when I need to admit I'm hurting. I don't want to exist at times when I need to admit I'm sinning.
To exist is to see things as they really are. To exist to begin to move towards removing the things that kill your soul.
Finally, to say you exist is to acknowledge that you need help. To say you exist is to acknowledge that God does exist and to invite Him to teach you how to really live.
Listen to the song.
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
Sailing in our separate ships and from each tiny caravel.
Tiring of trying, there's a necessary dying,
Like the horseshoe crab in its proper season sheds its shell.
Such distance from our friends,
Like a scratch across the lens,
Made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood.
And our paper blew away before we'd left the bay.
So half-blind, we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood.
Caught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters.
The propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves,
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun.
The cloth low on the mast, I say I got no past,
I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son.
The tarnish on my brass, the mildew on my glass-
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me.
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure,
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I still tastes its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel.
To an anchor ever dropped, sea-sick yet still docked,
Captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel.
Floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong,
We keep our confessions long, but when we pray we keep it short.
I drank a thimble full of fire,
I'm not ever coming back...
Oh, my God.
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
While watching sink the heavy ship with everything we knew.
And if ever you come near, I'll hold up high a mirror.
Lord, I could never show you anything as beautiful as you!
****
Some songs seam to speak into a moment in life. Songs about a kiss or a date or a battle or a game -- all songs that are about a moment. Messes of Men always seemed to stick out as a song that was not in any moment, but was an autobiography.
The band, mewithoutYou, have been one of my favorite bands for a few years now. I just love how complicated the lyrics are. They're like a puzzle that, as you start to solve it, reveals something bigger to you.
This song, in my eyes, seems to hit the nail on the head when it comes to depicting the lifelong struggle that is to be a man in this world. Read the lyrics over and over and you'll see that in this complex rhythm of nautical metaphors, you get the biography of the average man.
He is unsure of himself. He is a loner with no real deep relationships. He is lusty. He is dissatisfied with life no matter which side of the fence he stands on. We wrestle with guilt of things past. We also ignore our pasts. As we age we become unsure of how to handle our aging bodies -- a species that prides itself on physical ability, when we begin to break down in age, we fear we are losing our dignity. We float through life, half-paying attention. Sure, we say we have direction. We want our careers and our possessions to go in a Northern direction, but we don't pay attention to the people around us. We are passive when it counts and aggressive when we're foolish.
This song is biography of most men. The more I hear it, the more I fear this song is my biography.
****
"I do not exist," we faithfully insist.
You know, I can remember being a pretty good, rule-following child. I never really got in trouble. I erred so poorly on the side of safety and not rocking the boat, that I missed out on a lot of great childhood experiences that can really only come from bending the rules. My self-worth was tied up in not getting in trouble and not experiencing shame.
I do remember a few times when I would do something bad. Maybe I threw a ball in the house or hit my brother. I can remember that, in those times of guilt, I just so badly wanted to disappear. I just wanted to vanish; be erased and come back in another life. I can remember, doing something that wasn't awful, it was just not a good choice. I hadn't committed murder at 5 years old, I had spilled milk on the floor. Yet, they were one and the same for me. I knew I had rocked the boat. I knew I had done wrong. So, tears streaking down my cheeks, I did the only thing I knew to do in those situations. I'd close my eyes, rock my body to and fro, and wish that I could disappear.
Here's a twist on an old verse: Do you remember the story of Adam & Eve? You know, the two nudists who were eating fruit from the forbidden tree. They ate the fruit, realized they had done a terrible thing, and immediately hid in the bushes. Then God comes strolling through the garden of Eden -- which is an odd thing to imagine, the Lord strolling. I can imagine him floating, but never walking. I almost feel like it's beneath Him.
Well, God is walking through the garden and, knowing that Adam & Eve are hiding, He says "Where are you?"
Two things: 1) God knows everything. Why is He asking? 2) If God knows everything, why are Adam and Eve hiding?
****
I'm 26 years old. The Lord has blessed me with a mouth large enough for my feet and has provided me many opportunities to do so. Weekly, I will say something incredibly insensitive or sarcastic. My tongue is always trailing my heart for weakest part of my body, but not by much.
The thing is, no matter what dumb thing I spew out of my mouth, the afterthought is always the same.
"You idiot. You numbskull. You did NOT just say that. Why did you say that? You aren't here. This isn't happening. This didn't just happen. You are not here. You are not here. You do not exist right now."
Q: So what exists and doesn't exist at the same time? A: Nothing.
****
Pretend for a second. Pretend you are Adam or Eve (depending on which accessories you're packing).
You've just broken the law. THE law. You have committed the first sin ever recorded in the history of -- well, you're the first people, so there's no history. But you just made history.
You just broke the rule of the all-powerful, triune God. A God that spoke everything into existence. This guy could kick you in the grapes so hard you cry Legos.
You have just done something that wouldn't technically happen until Sodom and Gomorrah: "You screwed the pooch".
What do you do? You hear footsteps coming. Maybe you hear whistling coming your way. Dogs don't whistle. Deer don't whistle. You are nervous. Maybe you invent two or three four-letter words as you try to find a bush to hide in.
You crouch down under the leaves and berries. A stick is poking you in the butt. Eve's elbowing you and standing on your toe. You are hiding desperately.
Tears streaming down your face you think to yourself: "This is not happening. This is not happening. This. Is. Not. Happening. I do not exist right now."
****
Men want to be in charge. We want to dictate our lives. We want to drive our own destinies. We want to be the Captains of our own ships. We tell women what to do. We tell our children what to do. We tell other men what to do. We say with our actions, recognize me as being great. The more people who respect me the better. The goal in life, the secret in life, the key to life -- is being respected and revered. All the greatest men who ever lived commanded respect.
Whether we admit it or not, men want to be seen as MEN. Tough, strong, bold, blah blah blah...just look at ANY advertisement aimed at men. They all say:
- Do [blank] and women will sleep with you.
- Do [blank] and you will be cool.
- Do [blank] and you will be bold.
- Do [blank] and you will be successful.
- Do [blank] and you're family will listen to you.
- Do [blank] and you will leave a mark on this world.
- Do [blank] and you will be a man like no other.
I'm single. For me, I only want to exist in a way that makes me look appealing to attractive, single women or people who are friends with attractive, single women and have the power to set me up. Given my propensity for making an ass out of myself, I exist for roughly 5-10 minutes a week.
But when I screw up. When I miss a deadline. When I say something dumb. When I am having relational friction between myself and a friend...I choose not to exist. To exist would mean to acknowledge life as it's really happening. To exist means I don't sugarcoat. To exist means that I apologize. To exist means that I must repent when I mess up. To exist means that I must seek counsel and community and prayer to face struggles with substance abuse or porn or pride, etc. To exist means that I don't wait for somebody to bring up the issue I don't want to talk about, but that I bring it up myself. To exist means that I realize I can't drive my own ship and that I need God. To exist means that I acknowledge when I have failed to love, to serve, to care -- and that I go to those people to ask for forgiveness.
When do you choose to not exist? When do you choose to ignore the issues at hand? When do you choose to hide in your competencies instead of being humble in your brokenness?
****
This song is meaningful to me, because it's been my modus operandi to minimize myself. I don't want to exist at times when I need to speak up. I don't want to exist at times when I need to admit I'm hurting. I don't want to exist at times when I need to admit I'm sinning.
To exist is to see things as they really are. To exist to begin to move towards removing the things that kill your soul.
Finally, to say you exist is to acknowledge that you need help. To say you exist is to acknowledge that God does exist and to invite Him to teach you how to really live.
1 comments:
Dude, bravo. One of my favorite songs as well. Actually, "Brother, Sister" is one of my top 5 favorite albums. Brilliant. Their songs are akin to poetry in my book. Like you said, Aaron's lyrics are so complex that you can derive several meanings from one song so I enjoy hearing different people's takes on what mwY's songs mean to them.
I have to say, I really enjoy your writings as well. I've been following your blog for a month or so now (I think we may have some mutual friends and I might've happened upon your blog through them) and I dig your perspective. Keep up the good work.
Take care,
Ryan
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