If you’ve been reading my posts for a while you’ll know than I love the music of Van Morrison. My favourite album of his is Astral Weeks, recorded in New York over two days in 1968 when he was just 23.
For me the best song on that album – probably my top song ever – is the second track, Beside You.
You can listen to it on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ke27QakSPxM
Here’s the bit that I love the most:
To never never never wonder why at all
To never never never wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
And I'm beside you
Beside you
It’s the refrain, it weaves amongst the rest of the lyrics, simply supported by flute and acoustic guitar.
The meaning behind Morrison’s songs isn’t always easy to work out, and he is notoriously reluctant to explain himself. So we are left to make our own best interpretations of what he is singing about.
I think Beside You is a celebration of the direct experience of unconditional love. It’s about loving being with someone just because you can. Because you’re there and they’re there, you’re together and it’s fine. No need for conversation or discussion, no questions asked, no demands made. No trouble, no fret or worry. Being in this particular moment, with someone you care about, and knowing that this is entirely, totally sufficient.
Being together, in ‘the silence easy’.
Which sets me thinking about my own Beside You moments.
I am fortunate to have so many people that I can be with, enjoyably, comfortably and without worry, that I am wonderfully spoilt for choice here.
Here are three recent moments that spring to my mind:
· On the couch in Mary’s house, with my most recent grand-daughter Florence snugglingly asleep on my left shoulder, watching my other four grandchildren playing on the floor and listening to Mary and Rachel discuss the imminent arrival of number six.
· On a sun-lounger by the swimming pool in the Gulf Hotel in Bahrain, sipping mint and lemonade, reading Rose Tremain’s Merivel, the afternoon sun warming my skin, Sue dozing peacefully beside me.
· In a park in Canberra, pushing my brother Steve along the path in his wheelchair, watching a game of touch rugby, feeling in complete harmony as we share a joke about the game and realising that - whatever happens and whenever it happens – I will always remember this moment with joy.
Go well on your merry way. I hope you have a rich store of Beside You moments, and I wish you many more of them.