A note about my thoughts on winter songs, by Swampyre McCobb

Not so long ago I spent a lot of time, energy, and a bit of financial investment in ideologies that would no longer hold significance for me. Leaving religion can be to varying degrees traumatic; my religious practices provided much happiness and little strife. Letting go of spirituality, like any satisfying habit, was difficult to say the least. Aside from a few social associations of less-than-pleasant natures, my spirituality overall was delightful and emotionally satisfying. However, the past few years have involved some dramatic and intentional shifts in my thoughts on spirituality. It can, in many ways, interfere with critical thinking, and impede appreciation of what reality has to offer.  

 

My sense of wonder and admiration for the world was tied to things of a metaphysical and faith-based nature. Emotional responses to the world around me became so emmeshed in my superstitions that when I realized the detrimental, deleterious effects of magical/wishful thinking, it made the choice to shed the trappings of such cherished views very difficult. I imagine many children have a similar feeling upon learning the truth about Santa. 

 

When it comes to works of fiction, I find a lot of value in them. They are both entertainment and a means to share lessons about life, to explore topics both serious and light-hearted. However, no one has ever made truth claims about Lord of the Rings. While fandoms can have their own maladapted attachments, I haven’t seen factions of Avatar the Last Airbender devotees seek to limit the civil rights of people outside their group. Fans of Stranger Things don’t use what they appreciate about that series to shill for unfounded medicinal practices or use a ‘sincerely held belief’ in the Upside Down as a hall pass for cruelty. With that, my appreciation of the moods brought about by the fictions of spiritual practice have been tainted by their weak, erroneous truth claims. I don’t operate on faith; I operate on evidence. Making truth claims without the latter ends up at best a comforting delusion and at worst, overt deception and manipulation. 

 

Ok, enough serious stuff. Overall, the emotional turmoil has subsided. Christmas Carols always provided unique and enjoyable ambiance; I refuse to let them go outright. As those moods are set predominantly by the music, rather than the lyrics, I realized that I could do what many authors of folk songs and hymns have done: take familiar melodies and put words to it that matter to me. (Can you believe it, Mom? I’m treating lyrics and music as equals! Normally I give dramatically more weight to music than to lyrics.) 

 

I enjoy doing Weird Al-style parodies of songs, often spontaneously, setting whatever I’m doing at any moment to the tune that pops into my head. For decades I have used “I Love Paris” as done by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins ANY time I say I love something. Any time I’m “gonna” do something it becomes the chorus to “Thrift Shop” by Macklemore. From expanding “Jolene” to a full-length eldritch abomination song as inspired by The Internet, to my reworking of “Creep” by Radiohead to be about a super-helpful “Mensch” I will find a way to songify anything to a familiar tune. 

 

And so, I took the emotionally charged impressions that winter inspires and imbued the music that has colored my life during that season with them. Some of the original lyrics and titles remain because even as I have shed religion, as with many fictional stories, it was not without its occasional good lessons.