The time that song from Moana made me cry

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m very moved by the Here and Now program I’ve been doing with the Academy of Intuition. It’s powerful stuff, and it’s getting me to go deep into my self in ways I have avoided, both willfully and unknowingly, for many, many years.

This week’s theme is role playing (no, not the sexual variety!). The idea is that we are always playing a role in every relationship we’re in, and that people come into our lives for a reason — to help us learn more about ourselves.

Yesterday I was listening to the latest audio lesson and meditation on my headphones while Clover ran around the dog park. I was moved to look up through the trees, an explosion of delicate green leaves, and then the instructor, Ghazaleh Lowe, encouraged us to “look up.” “Notice the colors of the sky,” she said, and I did. I closed my eyes, but she encouraged us to keep them open, and when I opened mine, there were Clover and a gang of mutts romping happily around the gravelly yard, and I felt a deep happiness in my heart.

I haven’t been able to get that song from Moana out of my head — those of you with kids know the one I mean, and for everyone else, here you go:

Catchy, eh? This guy named Lin Manuel Miranda wrote it — maybe you’ve heard of him ;).

Anyway, when the meditation I was listening to was over, I decided to listen to the Moana song. I found myself listening to the words more closely than I had before. And then I realized I was crying.

I’ve been standing at the edge of the water
‘Long as I can remember, never really knowing why
I wish I could be the perfect daughter
But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try
Every turn I take, every trail I track
Every path I make, every road leads back
To the place I know, where I can not go
Though I long to be
See the line where the sky meets the sea it calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, if I go there’s just no telling how far I’ll go
I know, everybody on this island seems so happy on this island
Everything is by design
I know, everybody on this island has a role on this island
So maybe I can roll with mine
I can lead with pride, I can make us strong
I’ll be satisfied if I play along
But the voice inside sings a different song
What is wrong with me?
See the light as it shines on the sea it’s blinding
But no one knows, how deep it goes
And it seems like it’s calling out to me, so come find me
And let me know, what’s beyond that line, will I cross that line?
See the line where the sky meets the sea it calls me
And no one knows, how far it goes
If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me
One day I’ll know, how far I’ll go
First of all, “I wish I could be the perfect daughter” is just so raw, simple and true. I think all girls and all women wish that. We just rarely lay it so bare.
But it was the line about “everybody on this island has a role on this island.” I had just been listening to audio about the roles we play in our lives and there was this song, talking about it, too, with a lyric I’d never noticed before (not consciously, at least). Something about the synchronicity of that moved me deeply.
And then the story the words tell: “Maybe I can roll with” my role on this island, she sings, but then no, “the voice in me sings a different song.” And then, plainly: “What is wrong with me?”
Oh how many times I’ve felt this way. Just go along, Amanda. Don’t want what you want. It makes things so much harder.
Wanting what we want, when it’s different from what we think we’re supposed to want, is hard because we’re afraid of  what other people will think. But living in denial or in a place of repressed dreams is no picnic. It hurts. It also robs the world of the chance to experience the fullest expression of your spark.
Allowing ourselves to admit to what we want is hard, too, because deep down so many of us are afraid of what might happen if we actually get it. It feels easier to cling to the myth that what we want is impossible, like a child’s ratty old security blanket — because then there’s no risk of failure, and there’s also no risk of success.
Yes, I read a lot into Disney lyrics ;).
(This isn’t the first time, incidentally. I may or may not have divined deep personal meaning from “Let it Go.” And I know I’m not the only one.)
Sitting there on the bench in the dog park, I cried because, like Moana, there is something out there that calls to me. And just as she, in that moment, knows that she is going to pursue her dreams, I have recently decided to pursue mine.
With apologies for being coy, I’m not ready to talk about those dreams publicly just yet. I want to try something different for me, which is to hold the plans I’m hatching for myself close, and savor the sweet sexiness of having a secret with myself.
It’s all the fun of a secret affair, and none of the STD risk. You’ve gotta try it! (Moana and STDs in the same blog post — where else are you gonna get that, I ask you?!)
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