Robert Hunter - "Box of Rain"
Tape V of the Bourbon Tapes
This Robert Hunter track (and the Grateful Dead version) keeps rolling through my mind today. I'm feeling very sober, as if I'm returning to a sturdy chair after too many days lingering in blankets and pillows. Acceptance is a zen state. I can only be who I am. I can only do what I can. And that's okay. And it's okay to hide away and work on myself. I feel plaintive and natural, quiet and serene. House work and walks in the woods accompany sitting down to paper--quietly moving on. "Box of Rain" has that mood. Take what you need, but this is all I have to give you. "If you need it; if you don't just pass it on." Acoustic guitar ripples like a creek in the woods. Hunter's voice is deep and soothing--an ancient spirit of the forest, a father who leaves the porchlight on for you. Grateful Dead's version is more cheery, but both are nonetheless melancholy in their own ways. Hunter's "Box of Rain" is the wilderness in damp winter dusk. It's a warm fire, a pot of stew, and a shine for your boots. In Tallahassee right now, we have a lot of vagrants. The transients tend to migrate down to Florida for the winter. I've been asked for change several times each day. (I walk to and from work.) It's hard to give a shit when you're cold, sick, and depressed, but I try to think of days when I was untethered myself. It wasn't a terminal state for me, but many times I could see how easy it would be to slip into that life--let years roll by only to find yourself still just trying survive another day and occasionally get a few moments of forgetfulness. I wonder what we all need to see us through. It's something deeper than booze or sex or the illusion of intimacy or the sentiments of the holidays or shiny new things. It's even more than food or drink or warm, dry shelter. Or maybe it simply is just food, drink and warm, dry shelter. Or maybe it also comes from the need for these things--another essential human need swathed and veiled and enfolded so deep we forgot it was in there. "Walk out of any doorway, feel your way, feel your way like the day before. Maybe you'll find direction around some corner where it's been waiting to meet you..."