Pilgrim's Progress

Kris Kristofferson put out a brand new album recently, “Closer to the Bone,” and listening to it today for the first time filled me with layers of emotion the likes of which I haven’t felt in a long time.

I’ve had an unyielding enthusiasm for Kris Kristofferson’s music ever since his album “This Old Road” came out in 2006. That album, made up mainly of spare guitar licks and Kris’s gravelly, wizened voice, was chock-full of anti-war ballads, songs about life on the road as a musician, songs about redemption, and words of optimism for Americans growing up in our time.

When I first heard it, I had just graduated from college and was about to start my first job—and I was freaked out. On a personal level, the job I was taking was convenient more than anything else, and I think that maybe a part of me could already feel that I was taking the easy road rather than the idealistic one. On a national level, our country was looking more troubled than it ever had in my lifetime, six years into the most destructive presidency our country has ever suffered through. In both those contexts, it felt good to hear an old man sing about hope and the ‘good fight’ … it felt like I had found some type of grizzled mentor coming to me through the stereo’s speakers.

In a song entitled “Pilgrim’s Progress”, he sings of a determined, optimistic struggle for personal development and social justice that still puts a wind in my sails every time I hear it:

“Am I young enough to believe in revolution?
Am I strong enough to get down on my knees and pray?
And am I high enough, on the chain of evolution,
To respect myself and my brother and my sister,
And perfect myself in my own peculiar way?”

I could go on and on about how that album affected me throughout that year and the years that have followed, but I’ll spare you all. From that point on, I scanned the web for articles about Kris’s life, I scanned the racks of my local Borders for his older albums, I looked up the work of the other classic country artists he alludes to in his songs, and I just generally immersed myself in his music. It was a rabbit hole filled with long and meandering side tracks, but the musical journey it began continues to be the most fulfilling that I’ve ever experienced.

Kris’s music vaulted me into a love-affair with the lilting voice of Willy Nelson, gave me a newfound respect for Johnny Cash, introduced me to the likes of Waylon Jennings, Steve Earle, and Ray Price, and rekindled my affection for the timeless crooning of Emmylou Harris. Kris, Willy, Waylon, Johnny, and Ray were part of something called “Rebel Country” back in their day—a gritty mix of country stars singing about more than their women leaving, a lost job, or their dog dying: they were putting out inspired ballads about social problems in America and abroad, and they were putting out a type of country music that was much more complicated, rhythmic, and romantic than anything at the time.

Now, four years after I first heard Kris’s music, his new album feels like revisiting an old friend—one who has shepherded me through both good times and bad and helped to mold me into a more experienced, tougher, and hopefully wiser version of myself than I was when Kris and I first met.

In 2010, unlike 2006, I now find myself pursuing a path that is pushing the envelope of my abilities and teaching me just how hard it is to follow your idealism. The Peace Corps in Peru has been challenging through each of the almost seven months I’ve been here thus far—and it has been nothing like I expected it to be. I expected the language-learning process to be easy, when it fact it has been incredibly difficult. I expected the projects in my new hometown to fall, ready-made, into my hands—and they haven’t. I expected to fall in love with Peruvian culture, but at times it has been almost impossible to veil my distaste for some of the practices in my community. But you know what? If any of it had been the way I had expected it to be, it would have been a vacation, rather than the profound growth opportunity it has turned out to be.

As I sit here listening to Kris again, he’s still the same hopeful older crooner. He’s still laying down lyrics about love and optimism, yet he’s somehow found new and upbeat ways of getting into my head. And his new songs are filling me with a much-needed dose of inspiration.

On the second track, entitled “From Here to Forever,” that familiar low-register, wavering voice states, “Here’s one I wrote for my kids”, and what follows is a lullaby that any kid, young or old, could probably use on tough nights:

“Cool shadows fall through the moonlight,
Soft as the breeze through your hair.
And the smile on your face while your sleeping,
Is the answer to anyone’s prayer.
Fill your heart for the morning tomorrow—
You still got a long way to grow.
And the love that you’re dreamin’ will guide you,
And live like a song in your soul.

And darlin’ if we’re not together,
There’s one thing I want you to know:
I’ll love you from here to forever,
And be there wherever you go.

There are so many feelings to follow.
So many chances to take.
So many ways you can stumble.
Some day your heart’s gonna break.

Darlin’ take all the time that you’re given.
Be all you know you can be.
And if you need a reason for livin’,
Do it for love and for me.

And darlin’ if we’re not together,
There’s one thing I want you to know:
I’ll love you from here to forever,
And be there wherever you go.
I will love you from here to forever,
And be there wherever you go.”

I consider myself an out-and-out optimist, a dreamer, and a shamelessly sappy romantic. Yet, as everyone knows, life hits you in the gut from time to time and it’s hard to go from day to day feeling the type of full-throated enthusiasm you know you’re capable of. Lately I’ve been feeling as though I’m coasting through my days, lacking the mental clarity and discipline that I typically rely on. Lost in a foreign context, I get frustrated with my inability to communicate and I feel sometimes as though I’ll never learn Spanish. And, with the woman I love living back in the US, I have days where I begin to wonder why I can’t just throw in the towel and go home to her. I know that sounds a bit bleak … but hey, I’m just trying to be honest: it’s hard to chase your dreams, it’s hard to be away from family, and it’s painfully difficult to be far away from a good love.

But lately I’ve been feeling a familiar wind in my sails when everything out on this ocean felt still and silent. I’ve been feeling a stirring in my gut telling me that it’s ok to hurt, to moan, to grieve the loss of a former life—but at some point you have to point your head up and live with purpose. I watched the movie “Crazy Heart” recently, and the main character, Bad Blake, inspired me. He reminded me a lot of Kris Kristofferson, and I heard somewhere that the actor who played him, Jeff Bridges, actually based his acting on some of Kris’s style and mannerisms. Blake is deeply flawed, he struggles and stumbles and makes mistakes, but in the end he finds a depth of hope and creativity at his core that enables him to rise up.

In the title track, he sings “This aint no place for the weary kind, so pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try.”

Not a bad sentiment to take us barreling into Spring, eh?

So while I know this has been a bit long and meandering, I guess I just wanted to flesh out some of these ideas here, and to say that if anyone else out there is feelin’ stressed or worn out or just plain low, at some point a fresh wind will come along … it always does. We’re all pilgrims, of a sort, in our own personal journeys, yet as much as we can I think we’ve got to remember that each of us are here to support each other, to lift each other’s spirits, and to love one another. It’s inevitable that life’s gonna hand us all some hard times, but it’s how we persist through those struggles that really matters. I see a whole different class of hardship here than anything I’ve ever seen before, and I hope with all of my heart that I can summon the guts to combat it.

So be well, be happy, keep dreaming, and don’t let that old, ugly cynicism creep up on the love you’ve got inside you.

“And the love that you’re dreamin’ will guide you—
And live like a song in your soul.”

Amen.