Week 572: “Waltz” by Mother Falcon

Two days ago at the breakfast table, I was worried.

Some of the worries were specific. A third lockdown. A botched vaccine roll-out in my region. Numbers are not good. This week I’m back to online school with my students. They are staring down the possibility of finishing a second school year in a row remotely. Meanwhile, my wife’s work is busier than ever and we have our own to kids to manage between our two schedules.

Some of the worries were harder to pin down. A general fog of worry that you can neither justify nor ignore. It just kind of floats there.

I was also worried that I wouldn’t be able, through this fog of worry, to pick a song and write about it this week.

Thankfully, I don’t have to. Because two days ago at the breakfast table, I got this message from a reader:

Hello! I’m Anahita. I’m 18 years old and from the chaotic capital city of Bangladesh, Dhaka. I came across your blog at some point in the 6 month lockdown that started in March 2020. I had to leave all the freedom I had at my boarding school in the Netherlands to be cooped up in my dad’s apartment in Dhaka. Trading the biking through the city centre at night with Dutch winds whisking through my hair for the asthmatic wheezes of dusty air I could only feel if I stuck my hand out of my grilled window. Through your blog, I read about songs from all corners of the world made by all types of people and for a good 7/8 minutes I felt like I had taken a quick trip to somewhere new. Your blog couldn’t have come at a better time.

I don’t cry a whole lot. But this message, this perfectly-timed human connection stretching across the world and across generations – she was seven when this blog launched – had me and my wife blubbering into our French toast.

Like magic, the right words at the right time can turn worry into gratitude.

What makes this a beautiful song:

Ana writes:

For the past 3 years that I’ve known this song, I’ve said that this is top in my death playlist. As in, this is the song I want to be listening to right before I die and a supercut of my life is playing before my eyes. Sounds a bit morbid, but that’s just how much I love this song! I love the way it swells at 0:40 and playfully comes down again, not taking itself too seriously. Every time I listen to this song the twists and turns feel like an emotional rollercoaster.

Recommended listening activity:

Writing a thank-you note.

Buy it here.