My Life - as Sung by the Eagles

As some of you know, I’m a big fan of the Eagles. I was born in 1965 and was a kid when The Eagles started making music. Although my musical ear wasn’t developed all that well in my preteen years, I had a great love of their music from the beginning. There was no way I could have known what a soundtrack to my life their music would become. No other band, and no other lyrics, seem to parallel my thoughts like The Eagles do.

I was listening to some of their music this morning and was carried away to a place in my mind that I have never actually been, but that I’ve visited often, if that makes sense. A place where I am free, but always searching. A place of infinite possibilities and dreams. A place where it’s OK to be a wanderer, and never quite find what you’re looking for. A place where the journey is always much more important than the destination.

When I think of The Eagles music, I think of the desert. And the desert is my favorite place to be, both in my mind and in my body. Even though I’m surrounded by water and tall evergreen trees and rain where I live now, my heart and mind are in the desert. The desert of the American Southwest particularly, but the desert in my mind is not defined by any boundaries. The desert, for me, is a way of being, and seeing the world.

I love the great open expanse. I love the rugged mountains and rocks. The cactus and desert creatures. The ever-present sun, and the way it warms my skin. There’s an element of the old west involved too. A time when men tested their skills at living not just to make a paycheck or provide material possessions, but simply to survive. There is freedom in the simplicity of it somehow. It’s where I want to live and where I want to die.

You know I’ve always been a dreamer,
Spent my life running ’round,
And it’s so hard to change,
Can’t seem to settle down,
But the dreams I’ve seen lately
Keep on turning out and burning out
And turning out the same.

So put me on a highway,
And show me a sign,
And take it to the limit one more time.

And when you’re looking for your freedom,
Nobody seems to care,
And you can’t find the door
Can’t find it anywhere,
When there’s nothing to believe in -
Still you’re coming back, you’re running back,
You’re coming back for more.

-Take It to the Limit

I relate to these lyrics on so many levels. The burned-out dreams, the desire to run, the difficulty I find in changing. And the desire to keep trying “one more time”. When I hear these words, I can imagine myself on a long highway in the desert, right in the middle of a quest that will quiet my mind, still longing for something I haven’t found, but also experiencing peace as I search, knowing that the journey has always been more fulfilling for me than arriving at my destination. It’s very difficult to put into words. I have always been a dreamer. I don’t see that changing. The quest I am on is one where the dreamer in me can find a place in my mind where it’s OK to dream and not feel like I’m spinning my wheels – a place where those dreams lead to something fulfilling and profound.

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses,
You've been out ridin' fences,
for so long now.
Oh, you're a hard one.
I know that you've got your reasons.
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow.

- Desperado

Yes, I do have my reasons, although I’m not entirely sure what they are. And the things that please me do seem to hurt me in the end. The last line of the song, “You better let somebody love you before it’s too late”, resonates loudly in my head. I have let people love me, and I’m doing that now, but it seems there is a part of my wandering heart that I can’t let go, and everyone who has ever loved me has been hurt by it to one degree or another. There is something so romantic in being the dreamer, the runner, the seeker. It’s a sweet pain that I seem to identify with more than any other way of feeling or being.

I’m at a place in life where I am literally redefining myself. I’ve realized that I’ve always tried very hard to be what others wanted me to be. All of those people had good intentions and my well-being in mind, but I can’t survive anymore on being someone I’m not. It has literally almost killed me. At 45, that’s kind of a tough pill to swallow – knowing that you really don’t know your true self. But I’m anxious to meet me. And I’m anxious to see if dreaming, running and searching can live peacefully with doing, resting, and finding. I have to believe that they can. This last few lines from The Eagles may sum it up best.

So you can get on with your search, baby,

and I can get on with mine,

And maybe someday we will find

that it wasn’t really wasted time.