Deborah Lipp

I was talking with my sister about relationships, and I mentioned that there was a passage from an Indigo Girls song that I thought encapsulated a lot of what we were discussing. And I opened my mouth to quote it and…

Nothing.

A complete blank. So then I tried to paraphrase. Nothing. Mush came out of my mouth. Pure mush. I couldn’t come up with a single line, or the basic meaning, or the name of the song or the album or anything.

So this morning I finally remembered enough of a passage to do a search. The song turns out to be Mystery from Swamp Ophelia, and the passage is:

So what is love then,
Is it dictated or chosen?
Does it sing like the hymns of 1000 years,
Or is it just pop emotion?
And if it ever was here and it left
Does it mean it was never true?
And to exist it must elude
Is that why i think these things of you?

So yes, I think that encapsulates most of the questions we ask about love. It doesn’t, however, encompass the questions I have about what’s happening to my frickin brain.