How Can I Explain- Part 1

Last Man Standing
    I don't know how it all got started. I don't know what has happened to my life.
I just know that one day things had changed in my relationship to Bob Dylan and his music. I heard him breathe, the sound of him taking a breath on some song I'd probably heard a few hundred times and from that moment on I thought about him differently. My thinking/feeling towards him deepened. His artistry became more real not just appreciative words. Rather than pulling him in I began moving out. It stopped being all about me and what his music gave-and gave- and gave to me and to all the other individuals who have been captivated by him, each according to their own knowing. Instead I began to hear the universality in his language on a new level. I began to feel the individuality of archetypes, those that inhabit his lyrics and those that appeared to come through him in his ever changing, seemingly shapeshifting personas. Paradoxically perhaps his unique personhood and simple humanity showed itself in that one breath. 
He became much more than the amazing artist I intermittently- though often waxed rhapsodic about and extolled the amazing-ness of to any who would listen. I don't know, maybe it seems idiotic to say this but the best way I can express it is that-  He became a man to me.

    I'll explain what that means later but first let me backtrack and go over a little of my history as it relates to Bob.

Dylan has, more or less always been there. All the cliches that you read: "Voice of a generation," "Poet Laureate of Rock and Roll," "Folk Legend," "Cultural Icon" all those things have been part of the identity compartment Dylan had in my mind. He provided my life context in some ways.  He articulated for me the inchoate ideas and feelings I had when growing up in a family I seemed to have no place in. "Too" sensitive, shy, physically and emotionally abused. I saw injustice, prejudice around me both personally and in the world. My perceptions, on the rare times I would speak them aloud were ridiculed or denounced in anger. I learned to be afraid, to keep my mouth shut most of the time and longed for escape.

His words often gave me solace and comfort when no one else could or would, when no one was there in my journey.

To Be Continued...


  1. Good Morning!
    I am honored you chose my "Covanant Woman" as your avitar. (http://www.expectingrain.com/dok/bdx/untitled9707.html)
    I look forward to reading part II and joining in on the discourse.
    Best of luck in your new venture.

  2. Hi Michael!
    I have been looking for you.
    I left a message at the last place you told me about this for you asking for your name and blog/website or whatever so I could give credit where credit is due.
    I don't remember where I found this but after you told me about it somewhere we were both commenting I looked for it and saw it on Expecting Rain but couldn't figure out how to get hold of uyou.
    I am easily distracted so I probably just clicked on another link somewhere and got lost in Bob!

    Anyway, thanks for leaving a comment too- You are the first!
    you know, that would be a good name to use. "Covenant Woman" There are probably quite a few. I have always called her "Our Lady of Bob."

    So give me a shout so I can add the info.
    Take care,

  3. Great blog!

    "His words often gave me solace and comfort when no one else could or would, when no one was there in my journey."

    Well said, I feel the same way.


  4. Thanks Kevin!
    I've been remiss on posting.
    Or even visiting my own blog.