I was mowing just now. It’s not an easy task – mowing in humid South Carolina. A song randomly came on my music player: “Running on Empty“, the classic and trenchant song by Jackson Browne. I began to cry as it struck deeply into me.
It’s a haunting and prescient piece. It’s intriguing, incisive, introspective. It’s the kind of song that we tend to gloss over, like many songs on the radio, but which when poured over, is apt and artistic. The themes that overwhelmed me are his main phrase: running on empty. That refers to the fact that he is driving, probably in the desert, probably at dusk, and his gas tank is running low. It’s a race against time to reach an oasis of one sort or another. He gazes back and glances around him and wonders about the future. The writer feels alone and yet utterly ordinary at the same time.
It’s about love, about friendship, about time. Avoidance, feelings, and pain are dealt with. It’s really a fantastic song, and I’m so pleased Browne played it during his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony in 2004. Well deserved, sir.
I thought of David, whom I always believed as a good and stand-up individual. As I look at his life in the last half decade or two, I have to feel that it’s not me who has changed, but him. I easily go to anger or disgust, but perhaps empathy and sadness can more easily be accessed when this song penetrates my cerebral cortex and sinks in deeply.
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels,
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels…
John is never far from my conscious mind. I loved him deeply. Time took him from this place.
My dad died two years ago next month, and sometimes I wonder if it is his actual death, or the fact that he wasn’t as much of a father as a young man needed, that binds me up.
So many friends have rambled on, or never really loved me. That can really get me down sometimes. I never thought David would be one of them. One of the wishes of innocent youth, I suppose.
I think about my mom and sister and how they are “running on, running blind; running into the sun, but I’m running blind” as Browne puts it. Life is hard, and they are making it harder than it even needs to be. They essentially rejected me, and it too makes me angry. This song makes it a little easier for me to have empathy. Everyone in my family experiences a morose and intense tendency – this on top of the heaping pile of shit life piles on us all.
“Sooner or later, life makes a philosopher out of us all”, a wise man said.
Life is what you make of it, a certain philosophy maintains. It’s fierce, it’s confident, it’s rebellious. I love it, and doubt it at once. Looking at the road running under my wheels… I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through. Many are dead, have run on, or are experiencing this same phenomenon.
It seems obvious to me that my wife Angela is the one person who has stood by me the most. She really distinguished herself in that regard. Last night, I dreamt we were divorcing. Perhaps I was subconsciously susceptible to this song sinking in so deeply. “A book must be like an ice ax to break the frozen sea within,” Tolstoy (I believe) said. Love melts a frozen heart, too. So can a song, it seems.
I had the pleasure of seeing my old friend Art. We really do love each other and it’s a light in each of our lives. We laughed, we talked deeply, this last weekend. He is facing much difficulty, and I hope it makes him stronger and that he comes out of it with a will to get healthier physically and turns out happier and more fulfilled. Life presented him with lemons and he has a chance to make lemonade out of them. One good thing that came out of his trials and tribulations is: “This experience has really helped me see who my real friends are.” Fist to my heart, my friend.
I hope that my relationship with Bob and with Devin turn out to be fruitful, rewarding, and lucrative. My past tells me that it can happen, but it’s fraught with difficulty. This song causes me to think that each of us needs it. Trust, dedication, creativity, and friendship can usher in a new era of prosperity for each of us.
That makes number 4 on the list, “Reasons to Stay On This Earth a Few More Years.”
Philosophy, introspection, and art take me halfway. Perhaps gratitude can take me the rest of the way; my dog Athena is still by my side, my mom will eventually come around and has been very kind to me, and “I am a part of all I have met,” as Ulysses says in the Tennyson poem.
See what this song does for you. If you don’t connect with its timeless themes, I envy you. Or pity you. LINK
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up one-on-one
I don’t know where I’m running now, I’m just running on
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I’m running behind
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own
I don’t know when that road turned into the road I’m on
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I’m running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I don’t know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, that’ll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
Look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running, too
Running on, running on empty
Running on, running blind
Running on, running into the sun
But I’m running behind
Honey, you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
I’d love to stick around but I’m running behind
(Running on)
You know I don’t even know what I’m hoping to find
(Running blind)
Running into the sun but I’m running behind.
Lyrics by Jackson Browne. I suggest you buy the song on Amazon or iTunes.
