It’s a game
Baby, it’s just a game
And nobody loses
When you learn to love the one
Who finally wins sometimes

You’ll be wrong
‘Cause sometimes, we get it wrong
But nobody leaves here alive
And nothin’ holy comes from bein’ right
So don’t hold your breath like that
Baby, let it go
You’re gonna feel it in your back
Believe me, I oughta know

You can cry
You know it’s always okay to cry
You don’t even need to know why
But don’t you ever feel alone inside

If you need to know the truth
I still haven’t got a clue
If the blind can lead the blind
Then, baby, I’m just like you

You’re a stone wall
In a world full of rubber bands
You’re a pillar of belief
Still fightin’ your empty hands
Folks are gonna lean on you
And leave when the cracks appear
But, darlin’, I’ll be here
I’ll be the last
You’re my letter to the past
-Brandi Carlile

I want to include an answer that Brandi gave to Stereogum about this song because it references the book “Love Wins” by Rob Bell, which is a book I really love. One of my favorite Christian books.

To what extent does “Letter To The Past” demonstrate outreach to your younger self, if that’s what you’re doing?

CARLILE: I’m trying not to project, but I feel like I’m raising her. [My daughter] Evangeline is like some eerie stuff in terms of just stuff I never told anybody before, stuff I experienced in my own head. And Evangeline lives in her environment where she can be a little more forthcoming with it, and it’s just shocking to see it play out. When she was really little, like two, three, we would play Candy Land, and if she lost, she would audibly scream. She would let out this scream of defeat. She would cry, and we would have to set her on the stairs and be like, “You need to sit there until you calm down. You can lose a game. It’s okay.” Now she’s seven, and if she loses a game, she just goes totally silent.

She’s immovable in her beliefs. I feel better about this because a lot of parents are telling me that their kids are the same at this age. They won’t take lessons. They don’t want to learn anything. They tell you they already know it. She knows how to play guitar. She knows how to play piano. She is a ballerina. It’s like she’s so lovely, but she’s rigid.

Rob Bell wrote a book called Love Wins, about people who are indoctrinated with religion at a really young age, and how they start to view their faith as a brick wall instead of a trampoline, which is what faith really is. It’s full of doubt and flex and change and just stretch. Malleability. It’s living. It’s not dead like a stone wall.

I just worry about my girl because she lives in a world that’s built for flex, for change and openness. And she’s really strong, but she’s rigid. So we work through that, and it’s super beautiful because everything I’m saying to her, I need to hear.” And everything she’s saying to me, I need to hear.

We have to talk, us rigid people. We have to open our mouths and say how we feel, and let ourselves be challenged and influenced. Again, I’m not trying to project. She’s not me. She’s feminine and gentle, and she just loves nature and pine cones. And she creates visual art. She doesn’t like music very much. There’s a lot about her that’s not me. But it’s like a lot of raising her is going back and re-raising myself at the same time.

But Thursday’s are for flowers and this collection of flowertography images are from my yard:

Next Thursday’s flowertography session will involve more flowers from my yard.