Professor (to me): “What do a crystal and the sky have in common?”
Me (thinking I must have misheard him): “What?”
Professor: “I said, WHAT DO A CRYSTAL AND THE SKY HAVE IN COMMON?!?!”
Me: “Uh, what, um, I don’t know… maybe that they’re clear?”
Professor: “NO! THINK!! THINK!!! WHAT DO A CRYSTAL AND THE SKY HAVE IN COMMON?!?!?!?!?”
Me: “Uh.. uh… I guess they’re both maybe, um…”
Professor “HUMANS CAN’T LIVE IN THE SKY AND THEY CAN’T LIVE INSIDE OF A CRYSTAL, EITHER!!!”
Growing up in Kentucky, no one had ever pointed out the interesting fact that humans can neither live in the sky nor inside of a crystal, but once these words were spoken, I instantly recognized their truth. It is one of the few golden nuggets I collected from my four years at UVA, and hardly a day goes by when I don’t shout these words in my own ear.
What does that have to do with this song? Well, I suppose one theme that flows through a number of my songs is the feeling of being trapped in the sky and trying to come down to earth, or alternately, being trapped in a crystal and trying to break free. Perhaps, you could consider this a song about trying to find someone who will smash through the crystal and drag you down to earth.
When I lived in Santa Fe, a man asked me out for a drink. He was a slime ball and I was married, so I knew it was a bad idea. And YET, my (horrible) philosophy was to say yes to everything lest I accidentally miss a golden opportunity in disguise. How could I be certain he wasn’t really a magical unicorn planning on teaching me the secrets of the universe?
Still, I had been around the block enough to recognize a predatorial man when I saw one, and I knew I should take some action to protect myself. Being a practical person, I decided the best protection would be to fill my apartment (a weekly motel suite) to the brim with giant pink pyramids topped with bunny rabbits. I figured he would walk in, see all these pyramids topped with rabbits, and then… well, I just figured he wouldn’t mess with me after that.
So I spent the next week walking to a nearby lumberyard to buy bricks, which I carried home, painted pink, covered with iridescent silver stars, and then stacked into pyramids. I ended up making seven pyramids (in a very small motel room), each one topped with a candle, a crystal, and a rabbit figurine. It took the whole week and all my money.
When the big day arrived, the man didn’t even show up. I wasn’t surprised, actually, since standing people up is a hallmark of this particular breed of predators. They forget an engagement, the jilted party calls them (angrily) to remind them, they apologize and ask to make it up to you, and then the two people meet again, with the predator on slightly higher footing. My disappointment (after all this work!) was equal to my relief, and all in all I took it as a sign that the rabbit pyramids had protected me, just as I’d hoped.
Later, while living in Brooklyn, I saw a movie this man had made which described his romantic philosophy of cutting people’s pride in order to seem more desirable to them. A very low down approach to life, but still, probably better than saying yes to everything.
I wrote this song while living in Santa Fe, in a weekly motel off the side of the highway.Perhaps if I had lived in a different part of town, I would have enjoyed it more, but as it was the only things I liked were the pinon coffee and the gazillions of stores that sold stones and crystals, which was the beginning of a new hobby for me. Otherwise it was a harsh place to live- expensive, windy, dry, and so far away from anything else! People say it is a spiritual place, so I tried to tap into that by decorating my motel room with dream catchers and Mexican blankets, but ultimately I concluded that desert plateaus are not the place for me.
If I remember correctly, the archangel Sandalphone is responsible for the souls of those who die as infants.
This song was inspired by Reinhold Messner’s “The Crystal Horizon,” a book about the first solo ascent up Mount Everest, but also, metaphorically, about the challenges a person can faces while trying to follow their own path and be true to themselves. The loneliness, guilt, and doubt, but also the exhilaration.
To me, crystals, mountains, and ice all represent that place of individuality and isolation… whereas valleys represent the warmth and comfort that comes from merging with others and following a more well-trodden path. But hopefully, when a person does come down into the valley, it will be to nourish and renew themselves, not to donate blood to a wandering mercenary.
