Albums That Are Changing Me: Where The Light Shines Through

That feeling you know a seed must be feeling as it cracks open and the sprout works it's way free. This sounds like that.

Let's unpack that, see what I did there? You know it must be painful, forcing your way through to the light. But the pain has so much purpose that you almost find yourself smiling through it. Pleased to be enduring the process, because anything that hurts this wonderfully must be absolutely worth it.

Switchfoot's Where the Light Shines Through, there is so much here. Beautiful. I never know how scared I am till I hear my courage questioned/encouraged to a fantastic rock soundtrack, and they always deliver. I'm still not over the marvel of Hello Hurricane or the melancholy of Vice Verses (the albums and the songs). I grew up to these albums. Driving down dark two lane roads, weeping. So happy to be free of my sadness. And just like I grew up to those albums, I am growing stronger to this one. Peeling back layers of hurt and static, waving hello again to the dreamer I once knew. She's a little weary, a little worse for the wear, but also a lot better too. After all "the wound is where the light shines through."

Thank you Switchfoot...again,

Ina

Albums That Are Changing Me: Georgica Pond

Without knowing it I’ve spent the better part of the last few years trying hard not to feel, so much. I’m a woman, a believer, and an artist. I feel A LOT and often. It’s one of those things that people who don’t necessarily do, or do anymore, congratulate you on or make you swear not to give up. But these people, even if they’re right and their intentions are pure, they don’t know what they’re asking. It goes far beyond being sad or openly, awkwardly happy. It’s being brave enough to be alone when no one respects, understands, or feels what you feel.

Today, for the first time in a very long time, listening to Johnnyswim’s Georgica Pond I felt justified in feeling- really feeling. Loss, love, hope, friendship, awe and wonder and all of the experiences that bring these treasures they are a gift, and it’s worth it when your heart gets broken because the crack and sting and pang and pinch remind you that you are very much alive. Not feeling, numbness, it is death. And as long as there is air in my lungs, and rhythm in my chest I owe it to my Abba, my ancestors, and myself to live.


Here’s to a life full of feeling. Let it matter.


Ina