When I first arrived at my dorm as a college freshmen and the friends and family who came to help me set up my room had driven off, I felt very alone. I headed into my new home, a building filled with strangers.
As I made my way back to my room through bustling halls, I heard a familiar sound in the midst of the moving-day noise. A guitar. And then a voice. I followed the music to an open door to find a boy sitting on his bed, playing a melody I had never heard before. It was "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen - the first time I had ever heard that song. And that was the moment I knew everything was going to be ok.
Maybe it's because of the memories I associate with the song, or perhaps simply the themes so cleverly woven into the lyrics, but this song was somehow always holy to me. When Leonard Cohen passed, and yet another wise and articulate poet left us, this was the only song I felt like I could play.
You might have noticed that I haven't posted much over the past few months - life has sent me a number of curve balls and I'm just starting to get reorganized. In a way, it's a little bit like my college days. Just like then, I am searching for some solid ground. And this song was there to help me. Proof that art can help us heal and find our way even in the most difficult times. And proof that the great voices who leave us always leave something valuable behind. Hallelujah.