letters from barabbas

I got this cd my first year at Auburn, and for the whole winter, it was all I listened to.
I was in a dark place. I felt like everything I had done in high school had been a waste and I had nothing left to give. I felt like I had lost all my friends and could never make any new ones. I felt like I had run away from God and might never find Him again.
I thought I might be dying.
This music seeped through my dark bedroom to breathe life into my heart with lines like

Some winters are harder than others.
We are going to take our cameras
and look through at black trees with empty arms
and sled tracks, wandering as we are.

and

Look for me another time,
give me another day;
I feel that I could change

I knew it was only a season, and there was a change coming, someday.
And when it came,

The world at night
could see the greatest light.
Too much light to deny.

It was a process I had to go through, and I internalized these songs so deeply that they became a part of me. I have only done this to such a degree with two other albums: The Cure's Disintegration and Don Chaffer's You Were at the Time for Love. They are pieces of my history, as much as any of my journals or letters, and there is something intensely private about them. I don't just play them casually in the car with a bunch of strangers. When I play them for someone, I'm letting them inside of me.

So when I let Josh borrow birds of my neighborhood, I was really glad that he liked it so much. But when I heard the opening riff of Snow coming over the speakers during the announcements at Chi Alpha's big meeting, I froze. I started to blush. If the 100 people there didn't like it, it would mean that they didn't like me.

It's irrational. I know. It's silly. I know. But it's true.
You understand, don't you?

But the brilliant thing is: people did like it. Because it's good music. And because everyone knows that some winters are harder than others, and everyone could feel that truth resonating in their hearts. Because that's what Art is supposed to do.
Josh was worried that I would be mad at him for playing it for everyone, for spreading it around to all of our friends: people sometimes don't like something as much when it's become popular. (God has delivered me from that affliction, though, hallelujah!)
I wasn't worried about losing my secret. I was convinced that nobody would like it.
I was wrong. As usual.

I hope some other time
I won't care so much about
being understood as I do now.
I will leave myself and go away.
I would like to follow you away.