Some songs are prompted by a phrase you think or hear, or a chord progression you like, or fully formed statements you want to craft into lyrics. Other songs are puzzles–narratives you want to piece together, loosely connected observations you’re convinced fit together, or points you want to work your way towards. This song was a gesture, a spontaneous movement of the mind, saying something I needed to hear.
It didn’t take much time. It started with a satisfied sigh–the first I’d expressed in ages–and ended in quiet gratitude.
Finding What's Enough Your hands warm in your pockets— A nickel and a dime Left over from a conversation With a friend wrought out of time. The trees stain the sidewalk As their leaves give up the ghost In an afternoon spent lost Finding the long way home. There might be a message Under every stone, And if you leave it for your children They’ll never be alone. 'Cause the story in the soil And the story in the bone Are woven by the sinew Of the will to grow. So, if you hold your lover Later on tonight Don’t be afraid to give her all that You’ve ever held inside. That small act of courage In the arms of one you love May be all there is to Finding what’s enough.
Yielding is timeless. Every other song on this EP drew from a definable historical element. This one came from the stones–the things we don’t have to know or control, things we are better for leaving–and accepting–as they are.
Zach was the friend in this song with whom I had a long conversation, catching up on a decade of life in a few hours. I wrote this song after a meal at a diner. I pulled it out shortly before a gig we had, and I knew when he added the keys it was done.
After I write a song it doesn’t take me too long to get to the point where I can barely stand to hear it again. That hasn’t happened yet with this one. I think it’s the beautiful piano part at the end. Take a listen to Zach’s playing on this one–isn’t that enough?