Song Lyric Sunday

 

Helen Espinosa’s Song Lyric Sunday theme this week is either protest songs or songs about “surviving this crazy thing called life.”

Bob Dylan
At 21, Robert Zimmerman changed his name legally to Robert Dylan in honor of Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet.

Before the British Invasion of bubble gummer rock, Folk music in America was hitting a more mature stride than The Four Preps and The Lettermen hit with their College Pop music style. Harking back to the social commentary of Woody Guthrie’s time, Bob Dylan and others — many others — tapped into America’s growing unrest toward the Vietnam War, racism, and the Civil Rights movement. He and the many others helped wake us up and motivate us to break out of that Dark Age.

Today, this song seems just as relevant as it was in 1964, like most of Dylan’s music seems to be. Maybe this can be the anthem for fighting our way out of the Dark Age we live in now.

Continue reading “Song Lyric Sunday”

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The Times, They Are a-Changin’

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Does anybody really know what time it is? (Photo credit: Me)

(This morning, I commented on grandfathersky’s post “The paradox of consciousness – part II“. My comment stands on its own here.)

I wonder if questioning is a cycle of humanity’s evolution. Surges of exploration, scientific discovery, extraordinary creativity in any of the arts all seem to coincide. Golden Ages like the Renaissance or the Age of Aquarius. Revolutions. Times when dissatisfaction saturates enough people’s lives that we reach a tipping point where the collective will is finally strong enough to question the rules, Authority, what we think we know, what we believe. And we search for new perspectives, trying this philosophy or that, new music, new art, new medicines, no medicines, new governments, anarchy, new views of the stars . . .

Till we reach a new plateau where we sit, complacent. Tired of questioning or simply believing there is no need to question. Willing to accept the lie in believe. A new Dark Age. We are comfortable.

Until we aren’t.

I suspect the world is showing us just how uncomfortable we have become, and dissatisfaction has reached the 98th monkey.