“Monsters. Madmen. Mouth-breathing miscreants. Mindless masters of mayhem who should not be forgiven despite knowing not what they do. They’ve created thornless roses.”
I love reading Don Engebretson’s blog, The Renegade Gardner. His essay here (scroll down to Black Spot Award, Worst New Garden Product: Thornless Roses) is especially good; so much truth in so few words. He goes on to say,
“It’s the principle of the thing…LIFE HAS THORNS, an eternal and infinite principle perfectly espoused by nature and appreciated best by gardeners. You don’t mess with the material manifestation of universal truths,” and follows this with a quote by Abraham Lincoln, “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.”
I am aware that some fans are frustrated right now. They are uncertain where David is headed musically and personally. I’d be willing to wager he shares some of those concerns too. He has to go from a selfless life that, “has nothing to do with him,” to a world that again wants to celebrate him. That person he brought back is not going to simply, like Athena, spring fully formed and clothed out of the head of Zeus, but must be created.
The thing I am hearing from fans is that they don’t care about getting music right away; they know that takes time. They want to know if the love for his fans is still there.
Ah, there it is. The thorn that every rose must have. Somewhere between the rose and the thorn, the musical genius he is and the imperfect being we all are, is the man he brought back.
What I came to realize early on (for there is no other explanation) was that I and many of his fans had somehow been caught up in his gravity, our days revolving round and round, held not just by the voice but by a magnetism and star power beyond anything I had ever felt. And when I listen to the Sara Bareilles song, Satellite, we are all the “perfect little satellites spinning round and round this broken earthly light.”
We are all broken. And he will never be nor should be that Someone who loves us from above. But somebody out there still loves us from the ground.