Born to Run

“In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream
At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines”

I think everybody has moments where they connect with songs. Badly Drawn Boy would have us believe that “songs, are never quite the answer, just the soundtrack to a life that is over all too soon,” but I find that songs can often times give me whatever it is I need, be it a pick-me-up for my soul or a reason to get up and boogie down. A great song is a song that you just can’t help but get caught up in, an anthem that just sits right in all your joints and swirls around your consciousness, unlocking secret caverns of thought and emotion that had previously been shrouded by the meaningless noise of the world. Great songs make me feel right and good in a way that is hard to describe and impossible to reproduce.

“Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we’re young”

Sometimes I get these urges to run that are almost impossible to fight. It’s as if my soul suddenly has a seizure and decides that what’s going on here just isn’t happening anymore and that the grass is greener on the other side, wherever that other side may be. Something tells me that everybody has times where they feel like running, where they feel like things can’t possibly get better and that the only thing to do is strike out for something new and, hopefully, a shot at redemption. The difference between this feeling and mine is that mine is not created by despair, but rather this force that simply emerges and then vanishes. It’s this urge to run just as fast and far as I can until the exhaustion of the world drags me back into its clutches.

“Cause baby I’m just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta know how it feels
I want to know if your love is wild
Girl I want to know if love is real”

I often think it would be nice for Megs and I to just pack up our stuff and head out for someplace new. I find myself often day dreaming of what our lives would be like living in Phoenix or New York and what a grand adventure it would be. I think about how great it would be for the two of us to experience something new together and how romantic it would be to be lost in the wonder of the world with nothing but each other.

“The highway’s jammed with broken heroes
On a last chance power drive
Everybody’s out on the run tonight
But there’s no place left to hide”

I guess I’ve been thinking about this unnerving habit of mine because of my most recent reading project: Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. My biggest, and definitely most unexpected, insight into the book is the way Kerouac talks about his Aunt that is constantly sending him money. It makes me think that the only way a life of freedom on the road, the life that blazes so beautifully in Kerouac’s words and so hauntingly in my dreams, is only possible when it is supported by those who choose to stay still rather than run. The only reason Kerouac survives on the road is because his Aunt, working back in the East, generously sends him money for food and supplies. It occurs to me that the central theme of the story, Kerouac’s quest for freedom on the road, is directly impacted by this. It seems hard to view Kerouac as truly free when he must rely on others to survive even though he may be the perfect embodiment of the unfettered soul in every other imaginable aspect. So there you have it, either you can be financially free and tied to your job and location, or you can be spiritually free and be utterly dependent upon the generosity and sacrifice of others for survival. Seems to me like it’s a hard choice to make: what way do you want to be free?

“Someday girl I don’t know when
We’re gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go
And we’ll walk in the sun
But till then tramps like us
Baby we were born to run”