Song: “Across the Universe”
Album: Let It Be
Release Date: May 1970
"[The words] were purely inspirational and were given to me as boom! I don't own it you know; it came through like that.” – John Lennon in a 1971 interview, discussing the making of “Across the Universe” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90M60PzmxEE ).
How much creativity, if any, can we really lay claim to? This is a question I’ve been asking myself recently being that I am of the ever-growing belief that our job in the inspiration process is to put ourselves in position to unleash those creative juices and then, miraculously - as John Lennon stated in the quote above - it all comes through you. Brian Wilson, Bob Dylan, and many other musicians/artists/writers have made similar claims.
Putting ourselves in position for creativity is what we can take credit for however, which takes knowledge, skill, experience, and a handful of positive character traits (trustworthiness, honesty, etc.) developed over time. There also needs to be a short-term convergence of both effort and what I like to refer to as “splendid isolation”, whereby you get lost in the moment and somehow are able to rediscover a sense of innocence, or rather, of who you really are. Prayer is a form of “splendid isolation”. So is meditation. Even just zoning out (my second grade teacher, Sister Margaret Ester called it “Cloud Nine”, and often accused me of spending her lectures there). If you can get these stars aligned, you’re ready to let it flow. My increasing understanding is that the more it plays out this way, the more magnificent the end product is going to be.
I’m sitting in my fireplace room right now trying to put myself in position to make creativity happen for this blog entry. I’ve had an entire day of isolation. Heck, it’s actually been more like a month and a half of isolation - living in this Covid-19 world - which has been the case for most of us. But isolation and splendid isolation are not always synchronized. For example, isolation can be tied to loneliness or anxiety, which are moods that do not lack communally in this day and age. But this type of downer isolation can also have splendid side effects on occasion. As I write this evening, I feel more connected with this more positive side-effect of isolation.
Ok, so, I’ve got that going for me.
Anyhow, back to my present setting. The house is very quiet right now. All 3 of us who are in Covid-19 isolation together - my wife Nancy, my daughter Charlotte, and I - are busy on our laptops. I’m leaning back on a recliner in the corner of the room, which is where I’ve been blogging these days. As I mull over my talking points for this entry, I’m looking directly out the picture window. The last vestiges of dusky daylight allow for the multitudes of tall, silhouetted trees in the back yard to completely dominate my view of the outside world. I stop myself from writing for a few minutes to take it in.
In the 16 years that we have lived here on this wonderful 1½ acre plot in rural Pepperell, Massachusetts, we have done a pretty good job of letting nature take its course (as with prior-mentioned creativity, I do not consider myself the owner of the property; only a steward). We typically intervene only when attempting to replace invasive plants with native ones. The canopy around us is large enough to support hawk and owl nests. Tree frogs and woodpeckers - including the sizable Pileated Woodpecker of Woody Woodpecker renown - are common in the stands above us too. At ground level, we’ve seen fisher, deer, bear, and other significant four legged creatures wander through the yard. We’ve also been graced by an endangered Blanding’s Turtle, who lays her eggs out back every other year. We’ve heard rare whippoorwill too. Across the street the wetland is alive with spring peepers, which is reason enough for a routine visit by a very large black racer (which I once mistook for a broken tree branch).
Lyrics to “Across the Universe” begin to hit me:
“Words are flowing out
Like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe”
The room lighting is on low; just low enough so that I do not feel like I’m completely in the dark (I suppose this is a subliminal gesture in attempting to unleash those creative juices). To my right is the well-used fireplace, which is dutifully flickering with flame. To my left is most of the room; at the far edge of which are 3 wide steps leading up into the common-space kitchen, which is also dimly lit. With darkness pretty much having settled in outside now, much of the illumination around me is currently emanating from my computer screen.
“Images of broken light
Which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe”
I glance around the room. My laptop backpack rests on the couch in front of me. Strange that it’s been sitting there for over a month. Usually that personal attaché case is pretty active, making its way to and from work with me on a daily basis. Now that I think about it, that backpack has been my work and personal travel partner for decades now, having ‘seen’ countless trunks, campgrounds, airports, meeting rooms, conferences, and hotel rooms, from Juneau AK, to Whitehorse YT, to Edmonton AB, to Denver CO, to Albuquerque NM, to Vancouver BC, to Baltimore MD, to Charleston SC, to Quebec City QC, to Ottawa ON, to San Diego CA, to New Orleans LA, to International Falls, MN, to Winnipeg MB, to St. Johns NL, to Boise ID, to Salt Lake City UT, to Panama City, Panama, to San Jose, Costa Rica, and countless places in-between. Oh, the tales it could tell. It’s a quality product, incredibly looking pretty much like it did the day I purchased it; and made in the good-ole’ USA no less. For the time being, however, it just sits here on the couch, in similar fashion to the Grandfather Clock that is ticking away in the living room (which also has plenty of tales to tell).
Next to the laptop is a pile of “Wildlife Fact File” folder books. It had been many years since any of us in the family had thought of these, but my son Peter was home recently admiring them in the basement, and so I brought a handful up so Charlotte could reflect on them too. There are about 10 folder books with around 150 “fact cards” filed away in each of them. And each book has its own theme, be it Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, Fish, or other major animal orders. When the kids were young in the early oughts’ we would get a shipment of 10 cards bimonthly. Charlotte and Peter loved opening up those packets (so did I). At times we would spread the cards out all over the floors of the house. It’s those memories Peter was tapping into a few weeks back.
Beside me on the floor is an amazing wooden card box personalized for me by my sister Amy, who designed it for my 50th Birthday. The box contains an assortment of warm cards and notes from friends and family, presented to me on that special day. The most amazing thing about it though are all the images that Amy had collected of my past, which are pasted on every nook and cranny of both the inside and outside of the box (including some Beatles stuff). The insight that Amy had in pulling all those wildly diverse linkages to my life continues to astound me 7 years later. How did she retain all that? (Love, that’s how). If a future descendent ever wants to get a synopsis of my life, well, other than this blog, they need look no further than that memory box.
“Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe”
The bookcase next to the picture window is stacked with field guides, animal encyclopedias and trail maps (along with a handful of musician biographies), which testifies to my family’s ‘getaway’ priorities (as well as Nancy and my concert-attendance leanings). Aside from all those nature and music booklets, there is one shelf that is reserved for plastic models of whales and other sea creatures, seeing as leviathans have been a love of mine ever since I was a toddler (which my family has bought into). On the upper corner of the bookcase is a different model all together: The Creature of the Black Lagoon, which is representative of the monster models my brothers and I would construct and paint when we were young teens.
“Sounds of laughter, shades of life
Are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me”
Along the wall that is opposite the bookcase is a lovely globe of the Earth, which is nestled in a handsome stand. Nancy got this for me as a Christmas gift early in our dating years. It too looks like it did the day I unwrapped it. The political boundaries do a darn good job of dating this globe (for example, Yugoslavia is depicted as a single country, and Germany is depicted as two countries) which only adds to its allure. Next to the globe is a turntable which my Dad gave me recently after reading one of my blog entries that mentioned my own turntable having been stored in the attic (sans a cartridge). It’s emblematic of my Dad (and my Mom) to think of such things: Generosity is at the core of who they are. On the wall behind the globe and turntable are an assortment of older photos of Nancy’s and my extended families dating back to our great grandparents. Charlotte and Peter get their own photo montage on a stand along the back of the aforementioned couch.
“Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me”
Over the fireplace mantle is one of Charlotte’s many natural-world paintings; this one a New England forest landscape, which suddenly reminds me of my temporarily-vacated office, adorned with a number of bird-prints that Charlotte painted for me over the years. There is also a painting in my office of the treehouse that was omnipresent in our backyard for 15 years, which I asked Charlotte to document in her wonderfully unique way (before my having to dismantle it due to safety reasons this past fall…the platform is still there though!). These paintings are all masterpieces to me.
“Limitless, undying love
Which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe”
On the fireplace hearth to my right is the voluminous Beatles Anthology book, which I have turned to on occasion for a bit of research these past 4 months of Fab Foundations blogging. As I sit here, I’m reminded now of what’s at the heart of why I’m writing this entry.
The refrain in “Across the Universe” goes “Nothing’s gonna change my world”; that last word ‘world’ meaning ‘being’ (as in “Nothing’s gonna change my being”). This thought connects me with all those images of my own life that surround me and flood my mind as I sit here in splendid isolation. Indeed, my life inspirations have been pretty consistent from a very young age. I’m guessing this is the case for all of us.
“Across the Universe” is undoubtedly John Lennon’s most spiritual song (be it with the Beatles or solo). The repeated Sanskrit mantra in the lyrics, “Jai guru deva, om”, literally approximates in translation to “Victory to God divine” (Wiki). Spirituality comes across not only in the lyrics, but in the vocals too, which are soft and contrite. Of all the Beatles songs I’ve ever heard; this one sounds the least Beatlesy, which makes it uniquely lovely.
George Harrison would sing many spiritual songs with - and more prominently without - the Beatles. Arguably, he did this more than any top Rock act other than Bob Dylan and Pete Townshend. As for John Lennon compositions, “Across the Universe” is the only deeply spiritual song that I can point to (side note: the only spiritual song I can point to for Paul McCartney is “Let it Be”, and it appears that this was unintended… more on that in a near-future blog entry). In fact, it’s easier to find the opposite with Lennon, seeing as he would rail against religion early in his solo career - with songs like “Imagine” and particularly “God” (a strangely heartfelt song that has me pondering what he is really saying). He did this to the point where he would inadvertently end up discouraging George Harrison from collaborating more with him.
Bob Dylan would end up reflecting on John Lennon’s spirituality (or lack thereof) on the very last album-oriented song he ever composed (to date at least): “Roll on John” off of Tempest (which I wrote about in Master Blueprints # 39). If you had to hang your hat on one spiritual song, however, “Across the Universe” is not too shabby.
I sit back, think a moment, close my laptop, and call it a day.
- Pete
p.s. This entry is dedicated in memorium to my great friend Mac’s younger brother T.R. “Across the Universe” was played at T.R’s funeral and I think of him whenever I hear the song.
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe”
The room lighting is on low; just low enough so that I do not feel like I’m completely in the dark (I suppose this is a subliminal gesture in attempting to unleash those creative juices). To my right is the well-used fireplace, which is dutifully flickering with flame. To my left is most of the room; at the far edge of which are 3 wide steps leading up into the common-space kitchen, which is also dimly lit. With darkness pretty much having settled in outside now, much of the illumination around me is currently emanating from my computer screen.
“Images of broken light
Which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe”
I glance around the room. My laptop backpack rests on the couch in front of me. Strange that it’s been sitting there for over a month. Usually that personal attaché case is pretty active, making its way to and from work with me on a daily basis. Now that I think about it, that backpack has been my work and personal travel partner for decades now, having ‘seen’ countless trunks, campgrounds, airports, meeting rooms, conferences, and hotel rooms, from Juneau AK, to Whitehorse YT, to Edmonton AB, to Denver CO, to Albuquerque NM, to Vancouver BC, to Baltimore MD, to Charleston SC, to Quebec City QC, to Ottawa ON, to San Diego CA, to New Orleans LA, to International Falls, MN, to Winnipeg MB, to St. Johns NL, to Boise ID, to Salt Lake City UT, to Panama City, Panama, to San Jose, Costa Rica, and countless places in-between. Oh, the tales it could tell. It’s a quality product, incredibly looking pretty much like it did the day I purchased it; and made in the good-ole’ USA no less. For the time being, however, it just sits here on the couch, in similar fashion to the Grandfather Clock that is ticking away in the living room (which also has plenty of tales to tell).
Next to the laptop is a pile of “Wildlife Fact File” folder books. It had been many years since any of us in the family had thought of these, but my son Peter was home recently admiring them in the basement, and so I brought a handful up so Charlotte could reflect on them too. There are about 10 folder books with around 150 “fact cards” filed away in each of them. And each book has its own theme, be it Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, Fish, or other major animal orders. When the kids were young in the early oughts’ we would get a shipment of 10 cards bimonthly. Charlotte and Peter loved opening up those packets (so did I). At times we would spread the cards out all over the floors of the house. It’s those memories Peter was tapping into a few weeks back.
Beside me on the floor is an amazing wooden card box personalized for me by my sister Amy, who designed it for my 50th Birthday. The box contains an assortment of warm cards and notes from friends and family, presented to me on that special day. The most amazing thing about it though are all the images that Amy had collected of my past, which are pasted on every nook and cranny of both the inside and outside of the box (including some Beatles stuff). The insight that Amy had in pulling all those wildly diverse linkages to my life continues to astound me 7 years later. How did she retain all that? (Love, that’s how). If a future descendent ever wants to get a synopsis of my life, well, other than this blog, they need look no further than that memory box.
“Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe”
The bookcase next to the picture window is stacked with field guides, animal encyclopedias and trail maps (along with a handful of musician biographies), which testifies to my family’s ‘getaway’ priorities (as well as Nancy and my concert-attendance leanings). Aside from all those nature and music booklets, there is one shelf that is reserved for plastic models of whales and other sea creatures, seeing as leviathans have been a love of mine ever since I was a toddler (which my family has bought into). On the upper corner of the bookcase is a different model all together: The Creature of the Black Lagoon, which is representative of the monster models my brothers and I would construct and paint when we were young teens.
“Sounds of laughter, shades of life
Are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me”
Along the wall that is opposite the bookcase is a lovely globe of the Earth, which is nestled in a handsome stand. Nancy got this for me as a Christmas gift early in our dating years. It too looks like it did the day I unwrapped it. The political boundaries do a darn good job of dating this globe (for example, Yugoslavia is depicted as a single country, and Germany is depicted as two countries) which only adds to its allure. Next to the globe is a turntable which my Dad gave me recently after reading one of my blog entries that mentioned my own turntable having been stored in the attic (sans a cartridge). It’s emblematic of my Dad (and my Mom) to think of such things: Generosity is at the core of who they are. On the wall behind the globe and turntable are an assortment of older photos of Nancy’s and my extended families dating back to our great grandparents. Charlotte and Peter get their own photo montage on a stand along the back of the aforementioned couch.
“Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me”
Over the fireplace mantle is one of Charlotte’s many natural-world paintings; this one a New England forest landscape, which suddenly reminds me of my temporarily-vacated office, adorned with a number of bird-prints that Charlotte painted for me over the years. There is also a painting in my office of the treehouse that was omnipresent in our backyard for 15 years, which I asked Charlotte to document in her wonderfully unique way (before my having to dismantle it due to safety reasons this past fall…the platform is still there though!). These paintings are all masterpieces to me.
“Limitless, undying love
Which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe”
On the fireplace hearth to my right is the voluminous Beatles Anthology book, which I have turned to on occasion for a bit of research these past 4 months of Fab Foundations blogging. As I sit here, I’m reminded now of what’s at the heart of why I’m writing this entry.
The refrain in “Across the Universe” goes “Nothing’s gonna change my world”; that last word ‘world’ meaning ‘being’ (as in “Nothing’s gonna change my being”). This thought connects me with all those images of my own life that surround me and flood my mind as I sit here in splendid isolation. Indeed, my life inspirations have been pretty consistent from a very young age. I’m guessing this is the case for all of us.
“Across the Universe” is undoubtedly John Lennon’s most spiritual song (be it with the Beatles or solo). The repeated Sanskrit mantra in the lyrics, “Jai guru deva, om”, literally approximates in translation to “Victory to God divine” (Wiki). Spirituality comes across not only in the lyrics, but in the vocals too, which are soft and contrite. Of all the Beatles songs I’ve ever heard; this one sounds the least Beatlesy, which makes it uniquely lovely.
George Harrison would sing many spiritual songs with - and more prominently without - the Beatles. Arguably, he did this more than any top Rock act other than Bob Dylan and Pete Townshend. As for John Lennon compositions, “Across the Universe” is the only deeply spiritual song that I can point to (side note: the only spiritual song I can point to for Paul McCartney is “Let it Be”, and it appears that this was unintended… more on that in a near-future blog entry). In fact, it’s easier to find the opposite with Lennon, seeing as he would rail against religion early in his solo career - with songs like “Imagine” and particularly “God” (a strangely heartfelt song that has me pondering what he is really saying). He did this to the point where he would inadvertently end up discouraging George Harrison from collaborating more with him.
Bob Dylan would end up reflecting on John Lennon’s spirituality (or lack thereof) on the very last album-oriented song he ever composed (to date at least): “Roll on John” off of Tempest (which I wrote about in Master Blueprints # 39). If you had to hang your hat on one spiritual song, however, “Across the Universe” is not too shabby.
I sit back, think a moment, close my laptop, and call it a day.
- Pete
p.s. This entry is dedicated in memorium to my great friend Mac’s younger brother T.R. “Across the Universe” was played at T.R’s funeral and I think of him whenever I hear the song.
2 comments:
Wow. another masterpiece, Pete. I often skipped that song in the album sequence, feeling that it didn't "fit" with the rest and probably wanting to hear something less-deep. But you have once again opened my eyes, and I am eternally grateful. Victory to God Devine? I should have scratched beneath the surface on that Latin phrase. I often (yes, often) wonder what influence John Lennon would have now were he alive.
Sister Margaret Ester couldn't envision the deep composer you have become. Perhaps she intently pushed you towards more Cloud-9 experiences - - knowing that Nothings Gonna Change your World.....
Peace
F
I rarely listen to the Beatles, but the way you describe their music makes me want to listen to the songs you are writing about.
I'm writing this comment while listening to the song...
Nothing is gonna change my worllddddd
Andres
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