The Tefillah of Alexi Murdoch.
About eight years ago, I was going through the breakup of my first marriage. Without getting into the mess and tatter of it all, needless to say I was in a great deal of emotional pain. I was staying with my parents during the process of the divorce. One night, about a month or so after the split, my parents had gone out for the night, and I decided to curl up with a movie and some chocolate and forget about everything else for at least a few hours. The movie, Away We Go, was in of itself a delightful experience. But the soundtrack is what would end up becoming a spiritual compass for me. Alexi Murdoch, an Indie singer-songwriter from the U.K, has a number of songs on the soundtrack; and the one that caught my attention at the time was “All My Days”, which appears near the end of the film as the main characters of the film, a young, unmarried couple are making promises to each other about the impending birth of their daughter. The scene was lovely, and it definitely gave me hope that someday I would be okay again, that in time my heart would heal (and that my soon-to-be ex-husband’s would too). But the song? The song (as I interpreted it) expressed exactly the way I have always felt about longing to connect with G-d. The lyrics are clear and simple, telling the story of someone painfully searching for someone, or something. The melody is slow, soothing and hypnotic, but with a trace of melancholy that hovers throughout (this turns out to be true for much of Murdoch’s musical repertoire, as I have since listened to it all, and passionately love every bit of it).
Well I have been searching all of my days/All of my days
Many a road, you know/I’ve been walking on/All of my days
And I’ve been trying to find/What’s been in my mind/As the days keep turning into night
The lyrics never directly name whom the narrator is singing about, so it could easily be about finding the love of your life, or an old friend, as it could be about G-d:
Well I have been quietly standing in the shade/All of my days
Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made/All of this rain
And I’ve been trying to find/What’s been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near/All of my days
I cried aloud/I shook my hands
What am I doing here/All of these days
For I look around me/And my eyes confound me
And it’s just too bright/As the days keep turning into night
But when I heard the lines:
Now I see clearly/It’s you I’m looking for /All of my days
Soon I’ll smile/I know I’ll feel this loneliness no more/All of these days
For I look around me/And it seems you’ve found me
And it’s coming into sight/As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
I felt with all of my heart that, at least for me, it meant not feeling loneliness because after all this searching, G-d was there (For I look around me: G-d is everywhere). And there was a great relief in having that thought, especially because at the time I first heard it, I was devastated at the loss of my marriage. It is a grief to bear, a death that you mourn, when your marriage doesn’t work out. I had spent weeks sobbing so much my eyes were swollen and red all the time. And while I had been going to shul regularly, and had tremendous emotional support from my friends, family, and congregation, I was still feeling mighty alone, so for the space of that small moment, while listening to this song at a time in my life where it was as if my insides were splintered into a thousand jagged pieces, I suddenly felt a deep, and intense love; and the connective tissue between my metaphorical heart and my Adonai was for a few core shaking minutes, completely in synch.
The problem with feeling that spark is that you want to constantly revisit it. Falling in love is the same way. When it’s new and exciting, you feel high (apparently new love is a lot like cocaine), and it’s easy to take that high for granted. A relationship with G-d is the same way, and once the initial Divine contact high has faded, you rarely, if ever, get an exact replica of that experience. It can rob your spiritual identity: I felt Adonai’s presence, but now I don’t. Of course, there are plenty of people who are perfectly happy and content without ever having or needing a relationship (or a belief in) with G-d. This is not some proselytizing “You need to get right with the L-rd” type of thing I am expressing. I have a great many wonderful friends, and family (and husband!), who are proud Atheists. But I am not one of those people. I DO need to feel linked with the Adonai, even if it is not a constant electric current running through me. I am not a hookup kind of gal. My need for G-d was never a one-night stand.
Searching for the Divine, even when you fiercely believe in the existence of one (or many, depending on your personal beliefs) can be a lifelong quest. And it can often be a frustrating expedition. Realistically, if you’re looking for rock ’em, sock’ em moments, you can only ever hope for fleeting ones; stolen away in prayer or monumental life cycle events such as the birth or death of a loved one. It can also catch you off guard in unexpected wisps cut off the corners of moments that steal your breath and nearly capsize your heart, like the one I had with Alexi Murdoch all those years ago. I have learned in the years since then (thanks in large part to the help of several mentors, some Rabbinical and some familial) that while hoping to have the equivalent of a metaphysical earthquake event with my Maker is a ridiculous expectation, I can do things to help stay connected and stay on my journey towards a better understanding of Hashem.
In terms of my Judaism, it is reading Psalms, which are designed to help Jewishly express the need to reach out to G-d. Learning how to really daven (in Judaism, davening essentially means to recite liturgical prayers) not just during services, but at home too (because G-d isn’t in a building, G-d is EVERYWHERE and in everything). Going to Torah study. Expressing gratitude daily, even when I have a hard time feeling it. Practicing Tikkun Olam (helping to heal the world by taking active steps to help improve your community), performing Mitzvot (good deeds). Doing things that make you happy, that make you actively a part of the larger living world. Keeping in mind that trying to repeat an experience isn’t going to make you have the same one.
Then of course, there is my secret weapon, when all else fails: finding a place surrounded by nature: green trees, running water, somewhere where there is simply life all around, teeming at the brim; putting on my headphones, and listening to All My Days while being at one with everything. Letting the words and soothing melody wash over me as the leaves sway under a cool summer breeze, smiling as a mother plays with her daughter on a swing set in the park, putting my hand in the stream that flows onward and out of sight carrying on its aquatic journey, shading my eyes while watching the birds fly past the sun. Nestled in the speakers as Adonai, King of the Universe whirs all over in the clouds, in the rocks, in the grass, is my spiritual compass. Years ago when I was lost and afraid, the words and music of this unconventional British musician flooded my soul with a comfort I hadn’t expected to feel, and grounded me with a strength that could have only come from G-d. It was more than prayer to me, which implies beseeching G-d for a favor, or help. It is tefiliah: a way of using prayer as a kind of meditation that unites the mind and spirit with the Almighty.
To this day, even though I am in some ways, in a much better place than I was during my divorce (I’m VERY happily remarried!), I still struggle tremendously with connecting to Hashem. There have been years when I felt like that connection disintegrated, and having faith feels foolish, especially during some tough personal trials. That will be a never-ending struggle (even Mother Theresa had doubts). But by working harder to keep a touch of that spark of Divine light that is always in me alive, even when I can’t feel it, by doing more spiritual weight-lifting as it were, I will hopefully manage to maintain a stronger relationship with G-d than I used to. And for whatever reason, all of Alexi Murdoch’s music, (but particularly “All My Days”), still has the power to center me, to remind me of when I genuinely felt G-d’s love. It is also a reminder that even if I can’t always have that spiritual contact high, it doesn’t mean the love isn’t still there.
And even breathing feels all right/Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right/Yes, even breathing/Feels all right.
