Most of the snowbirds in our town hastily take wing back to the States just about now, days before the Santa Semana crowds flock in for their revels. Yesterday was the last of the Friday jams I've participated in for the past six months. It was a day to share unfamiliar songs, and we struggled through some tunes we barely remembered or never heard before, laughing at our bloopers, but hopefully developing a few new favorites we can come back to in the fall.
One song that pleased us all was written by Iris DeMent, called "Let the Mystery Be." When I practice alone, I put on Iris's YouTube version, shown here, and harmonize along with her. Her unique sound may be an acquired taste for those who prefer more dulcet tones in their female vocalists, but it has grown on me the same way Bob Dylan's did back in the sixties, and Tom Waits' did in the eighties. Not just a pretty voice. The author of the blog "Just a Song" describes it best:
"...it's as if she were channeling the souls of rural Southern women going right back to when the first Scots-Irish settlers first found their way into the hollers of the Appalachians. It's the voice of an old, old soul, full of the sorrows and the joys of women making the best of life with the bare minimum to work with."
The point Iris makes in this song may seem a bit oversimplified, but it's a good place to start.
It's easier to remember the lyrics of a song if it means something to me. And when I put my feelings into a song it's more of a joy to sing it. This particular one comes close to my own philosophy about religion. Religion has been on my mind lately, maybe because we're close to Easter, maybe because of all the raging controversies regarding what constitutes salvation and righteousness.
Everybody's wonderin' what and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say once you're gone you're gone forever, and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden, bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say they're goin' to a place called Glory and I ain't saying it ain't a fact.
But I've heard that I'm on the road to purgatory and I don't like the sound of that.
Well, I believe in love and I live my life accordingly.
But I choose to let the mystery be.
Iris Dement, from the album "Infamous Angel" (1992)