wish you were here

musings on pink floyd's, wish you were here, and sharing my song, remember

while working on my album, birth of venus, last year, and feeling inspired by all the great songwriters and bands of our time, i found myself returning again and again to pink floyd’s wish you were here. the song kept surfacing in my conversations with my producer, almost as if it had something to teach us about relationships and about the human condition itself.

can we find the courage to leave a situation that no longer serves us? or do we stay, like two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year?

can we risk letting go of the familiar, the cold comforts, in order to choose change?

what a prophetic song this was. written in the mid-70s, it still cuts to the heart of the choices we face today.

“did they get you to trade
your heroes for ghosts?
hot ashes for trees?
hot air for a cool breeze?
cold comfort for change?
did you exchange
a walk-on part in the war
for a lead role in a cage?”

“your heroes for ghosts.” our true heroes, people with grit, great courage, and unwavering devotion to a cause bigger than themselves, are so often forgotten, while hollow idols are lifted high. so much of our pop culture and our politicians are so performative, while disguising a hollow interior. they are shining on the outside but empty within, all show without substance. while the real warriors of consciousness remain mostly unseen.

“hot ashes for trees.” it is no longer metaphor. wildfires burn across the world at all times of year, leaving habitats in ruin. summers in colorado, and in so many other places, now often taste of smoke. skies once bright and blue hang heavy with ash.

“hot air for a cool breeze.” in the mid-70s, when floyd wrote these words, climate change was hardly named. now it defines our time. what once sounded like poetry reads like prophecy.

and then the line that has rung like an anthem for me since i was a young adolescent girl, just beginning to learn that the world held more emptiness and apathy than i had hoped as a dreaming child:

“cold comfort for change.” i have never been one to settle for the cold comfort. and i would trade it all if it would bring true healing, if it would create change. i have always carried this in my heart. i would do anything it takes to help turn things toward the better.

and i believe many of us start out with this same conviction as children, but somewhere along the way we lose our resolve. we forget. we grow tired. and just like in the song, we become complacent and confused.

in lives all too often limited and defined by failure and disappointment, we give up our dreams and we settle.

this is why I wrote the song, remember. it is my attempt at a response to the very questions pink floyd so brilliantly and prophetically asks in their iconic wish you were here.

remember begins with sweeping strings and vocal layers, a call to what is possible, before touching on the deep human yearning:

“something’s burning up inside,
a yearning, no need to hide.
once, twice, three strikes you’re out,
never what it was about”

in this great game called life, we all strike out countless times throughout our lives. but we must not let that stop us. we must remember why we came. and yes, it is scary to expose ourselves, to risk failure, rejection, or being misunderstood. but that is the only way we grow. because it never was about keeping score.

the chorus is a call to remember what truly matters, the spark beneath it all:

“remember, remember, remember
your birthright, your starlight, your song.
your fire, heart’s desire, burns strong.”

and here is a recording of me singing it.

remembering is the antidote and it is the call. to remember is to choose change. to step away from the false safety of the cage and into the uncertainty of becoming. tt is what pink floyd was asking all along.

do you remember? can you be discerning? do you think you can tell?

then I also sing, “trust me, climb the ladder,” because we are never truly trapped. we can climb our way out of any situation. even if it is only in our minds, when we are not yet physically free, we can still reach freedom in our hearts. it begins with one simple decision not to give up, one hand above the other, rung by rung, until we are free.

and still, remembering does not erase the ache of absence. if you have lost someone dear to your heart, as i have, life can feel even more challenging because of missing them so deeply. and just like the title of pink floyd’s song, you might find yourself whispering in your heart each day, “wish you were here.”

for me, i lost my beloved husband, finn, to cancer in 2022. wish you were here had always carried meaning for me, but since his passing it has become something even deeper. because every day, i do wish he were here.

and yet, because he is on the other side, i connect with him through music in ways that feel unmistakable. a song comes on the grocery store speakers at just the right moment, or appears on shuffle with exactly the words i needed to hear. that is how he often reaches me.

even with writing these words, i had been working right up until i had to leave for a yoga class this morning. and as i walked into the studio, guess what song was playing? wish you were here.

it felt like finn’s way of underlining everything i had just written, reminding me once again that he is still with me, that the message is real.

it is not only in loss that the same question rises: will we choose cold comfort, or will we choose change? it shows up in our relationships, in our creative partnerships, in the choices we make about who we walk beside.

after we made the album, my own working relationship with my producer ended abruptly, as we unconsciously shifted apart. i moved toward the courage for change, away from dynamics that were not healthy with others involved in our collective venture. he chose, or at least it seemed to me, to stay with what was comfortable.

i recently read theodore roosevelt’s 1910 speech “citizenship in a republic,” best remembered for the passage often called the man in the arena. his words felt so close to what i am navigating in my own life and to this theme of courage for change.

“it is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

i have often felt utterly alone as i walked forward from the wreckage of relationships and situations that could not go on, remembering that my peace and my sovereignty were more important than staying bonded and imprisoned.

and with these choices has come the difficult release of needing to be liked or understood by others, so that i could choose my own path. but this is not an easy path. it is the path less traveled. it is the path of the one in the arena. the one who refuses to be silenced. who refuses to give up. who refuses to stay caged, no matter the consequences.

those of us who treat life this way, who are remembering why we came, we are awakening. my hope is that instead of being scattered and alone in our own lives and personal arenas, we can begin to stand tall and wipe the fog from our tired eyes, to see clearly that others are standing with us. we are not alone here. we can help each other up when we fall down. and maybe those in the stands, silently watching or loudly judging, will see more and more people choosing courage, choosing to fight the good fight.

to leave when things are broken takes courage. to keep trying when it is hard takes courage. to put yourself out there when there is nothing to catch you takes courage. the opposite is the easier option: to stay behind, to haunt like a ghost of your own life, to keep swimming in circles.

“so you think you can tell heaven from hell?
blue skies from pain?
can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
a smile from a veil? do you think you can tell?”

we may be living in what often resembles more of a hell than a heaven, but it is still possible to participate in a way that frees us from our cages of complacency. to refuse cold comfort. instead to choose change. to believe in the bright blue sky of a new day even while living with so much pain from this hurting world. we can still seek out the genuine smiles underneath the veils of deceit or betrayal. we can choose the green fields of possibility over the cold steel rails of modern calamity.

and the way forward is the same as it has always been:

“remember, remember, remember
your birthright, your starlight, your song.
your fire, heart’s desire, burns strong.”

this is how we answer the call of wish you were here.
by remembering our heart’s desires, and by daring to choose change.

Inspired by the lyrics to my song, Remember.

thank you for being here, it truly means the world. i love hearing your thoughts, if you feel called to comment.

i am a writer, speaker, and musician devoted to healing and embodiment. i share essays, poetry, and original music through venus consciousness. i’d love to walk this path with you. 💞