Old stories

As much as I used to dislike Instagram culture, each year I get better at silencing the noise and making space for a more peaceful meandering, collecting souvenirs of art, design, photography, and music as I go. Whether accurate or distorted, I also get a glimpse into the lives of past friends and acquaintances — growing and shrinking families, political beliefs, hobbies, perspectives.

One of those past life peoples is Emory Hall, formerly Emory O’Donnell, who was a year above me in middle school. I didn’t know much about her then and I don’t know much about her now, but Instagram tells me that she’s a photographer, writer, and artist married to Trevor Hall, who happened to be my best friend from high school’s favorite musician. It’s hard to get a clear read on energy through small perfect square boxes on the internet, but something tells me Trevor and Emory are doing good for the world and I hope I’m right.

In September, Trevor announced a new album called In and Through the Body. I was especially drawn to this release because I’m a relentless romantic and for the first time, husband and wife share the mic. One of the songs they serenade each other with is called The Old Story and the lyrics moved in and through my body in the most delicious, knowing way — 

The Old Story

You could play it out

But all of it's in your head

Holding on with both two hands

Gotta let go

Is it really you

Knocking at your own door

Always looking for something more

Don’t be a fool

Don't be a fool

Oh no no no

You just gotta let that old story go

You just gotta let that good river flow into your heart

It's a start

Where you gonna run to if you’re gonna run from here

Only running from your own fear

It'll catch up now

Gotta let it die

Gotta let it go its own way

Who will you be if you let it stay

I'm afraid

I'm afraid

Like many, I’ve been fearful since I can remember being, but it’s not until this past year that my eyes really opened to the way fear contracts my being into a smaller, more limited existence. Fear, often born from old stories I tell myself or have been told, has found its way into my career, my creativity, my relationships with others, and my relationship with myself. And although I don’t always succeed, I’ve opted to choose the “love over fear” mantra as much as I can.

My impatience with growth sometimes gets the best of me, but now I can at least see myself reacting from that place of fear, when in the past I would’ve missed it. And simply by catching it, I attempt to move my way into a warmer, more curious, less outcome-driven space. It’s not always a guaranteed motion, but as Trevor and Emory sing, “it’s a start.”