Marching Bands of Manhattan

Listen while you read:  https://youtu.be/be2LvYXOcSI

If I could open my arms
And span the length of the isle of Manhattan
I'd bring it to where you are
Making a lake of the East River and Hudson

If I could open my mouth
Wide enough for a marching band to march out
They would make your name sing
And bend through alleys and bounce off all the buildings

I wish we could open our eyes
To see in all directions at the same time
Oh, what a beautiful view
If you were never aware of what was around you

And it is true what you said
That I live like a hermit in my own head
But when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown

~  Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie)

I was looking for a song to welcome in the month of March.  Although this song doesn't exactly fit the bill, despite the word "marching" in the title, I can make it apply.  Trust me.

From Death Cab for Cutie's 2005 release, Plans, "Marching Bands of Manhattan" is a song about mindfulness, about living in the moment.  I have been trying to master that philosophy for many years now, even attending a panel discussion on the topic in NYC two years ago.  Although the speakers were wonderful, I left the program in the same way that I leave a yoga retreat or a meditation class.  I feel like I am pretending to do yoga or meditate.  I'm still pretending to be mindful, but occasionally, I make some progress.

Mark Doty, one of America's best contemporary poets (and my thesis advisor when I was working toward my MFA), has made many thoughtful observations when discussing his work.  In his comments about one of his several poems about his dog, he noted that while humans "live in memory and anticipation," dogs "live in the now."  Having been owned by several dogs in my life, I can concede the truth in this.  We can learn a thing or two from our pets.

Ben Gibbard says of the song, "I'm the sort of person that's always dwelling on the destination rather than the journey.  Even when I'm in a great situation, there's always this moving thought that it all is going to have to end. 'Marching Bands' is about me trying not to fall back into old habits."  I hear you, Ben.  That is so me.  "Dwelling on the destination rather than the journey."  I am trying hard to remedy that.

So here we are, in March, the month when dreary winter gives way to ebullient spring.  Do we hurry the month along, eager for the rush of vernal exuberance?  Do we curse the insistence of frost, the brutal winds, the inevitable blizzard?  Or do we travel the month with mindful attention to the emergence of crocuses and daffodils, the spike in daytime temperatures, the lengthening daylight, the play of sun and shadow on the landscape?

We both know the right answer.  Now let's see if we can live in the now with patience, with grace, and with appreciation, finding comfort in the sound.