Hallelujah

I thought about The End today. No, I wasn’t a morbid stew of suicide ideas.
Just a tight bunch of knots of contemplation where I simply thought that, if people used their life on earth to achieve certain milestones and ambitions, what of those who don’t have any particular ambition or concern about milestones and their deadlines?

I mean, it has been 5 years since I discovered that I don’t really feel like climbing any ladder – corporate or social; 3 years and 1 month since realizing that having a baby isn’t as easy as pressing for a cup of latte on a Lavazza machine because a million micro-conditions have to be in place in order for conception to occur in the first place (husband for starters would help); 15 months since I proved myself wrong about not finding someone worth living with forever; and 3 since I found out how afraid I actually was of missing the point about living.

I know that if I defined happiness a little more laterally, I could be happy - despite being a little off in the Socio-Economic Radar of Successful-By-35-People - because it appears I have a head and a complete set of everything else contained inside and outside of it. Oh and legs and hands and digits, too. But how come I’m not really laughing? (Or if I am, why does it sound like it’s laid over like a soundtrack?)

Why is the “Hallelujah” feeling after a good meeting with a difficult client so short-lived? Because once you come down to Planet Earth again, you know you have 10 more jobs to finish and present to this same fellow two short days from now.

Why does the Hallelujah feeling of Friday’s arrival sink so eagerly with the sun on Sunday evening? Because the distance is shorter between Friday and Sunday than the hemline on today’s mini-skirts.

Why did the chicken cross the road anyway? Because it wanted the short and sweet Hallelujah feeling of an adrenalin rush at the expense of its own life.

Happiness seems to me an illusion on Earth and more of a Grand Prize one only really gets in Heaven, no matter how positive you are, really. It is something the soul achieves when its host abandons ego and all human desires and feelings it sparks. And the soul has no way of achieving it wholeheartedly on such a noisy, carrion-filled wasteland of temptation like Earth.

If that were really the case and I were right, then I’m screwed. What the hell am I suppose to do until the Lord calls me Home? I couldn’t resort solely to church work even if I wanted to because of my 9-to-technically-5-job. I could try and buy myself a Louis Vuitton bag I suppose. Or the latest i-Pod variant. Maybe go on a whale-hunting trip in Alaska.

Then again, this is all a little expensive for a really short Hallelujah.

Here are the lyrics to the song by Jeff Buckley who saw happiness as an elusive shadow, broken in places, stolen not bought, and more often than not, accompanied by pain.

“Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley

Well I heard there was a secret chord,
That David played and it pleased the Lord.
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift,
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof.
You saw her bathing on the roof.
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to her kitchen chair,
She broke your throne and she cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.

Well Baby I've been here before.
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
But love is not a victory march,
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.

Well there was a time when you let me know,
What's really going on below,
But now you never show that to me do you?
But remember when I moved in you,
And the holy dove was moving too,
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah.

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.

Maybe there is a God above.
But all I've ever learned from love.
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.
And it's not a cry that you hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the light,
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah…

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.