Learning to Love Again

I don't understand how no one has commented on this song yet, this is one of my favorites off his new album. I don't even know what to say, speechless.

I think this some means that some or most people can see through you're facade and that we are all human and we go through the same things in life. The first lyrics to the first chorus says " That was the real you running through the fields of gold wide open---" which I think means that you're free and you don't need to put on a fake smile or a poker face and just be yourself and once you do that, you'll truly be free. This song is amazing. Words can't express.

song*. Sorry about that typo.

I have seen and read Mat Kearney talking about this song, and how it's just about a rather serious friend of his that he got one quick, fleeting glimpse of letting his guard down.

I find it almost impossible to imagine that there isn't some element of death present in this song. A very painful death can leave the living very wounded. You're not just sad--you're angry and damaged. Your heart can lock up tight, and it does take some work to "learn to love again."

Overall, this song makes me think of two very close people who both lost a third person to whom they were both also very close. Personally, it makes me think of singing to my little brother, after the loss of our older brother.

Your poker face ain't fooling nobody, nobody here We've all felt the flame and shed those same tears Driving home to a one man hell, still counting years, still counting years Hey brother we're all learning to love again

--It's not uncommon--especially for men--to keep a "poker face" when met with tragedy. I remember my brother saying to me "I still haven't ever cried about it." This is like saying "I know you feel like you have to be strong, but we all know how you feel, and it's ok to break down." You can't fool the people who know you best, and who know best just what you've lost.

You also feel like you're going home alone, even if you don't live alone, because the person/people you live with didn't know him the way you did, so they can't relate. When you're at home, you're alone in your grief, no matter how many people are around. And you count the days, the weeks, the months, the years. You never stop counting how long it's been since you lost the person you loved.

[Chorus] 'Cause that was the real you running through the fields of gold wide open Standing in places no picture contains That was the real you, windows down, we could smell the mint fields crying Singing with the radio to a song we can't name That was the real you saying, “Maybe I'm not too young to be a cowboy.” Hey brother, we're all learning to love again Hey brother, we're all learning to love again

--The chorus captures the uniqueness every person shares with every other person. For example, even though me and my little brother both lost the same person, and both lost a brother, we both had unique experiences and relationships with him.

I never saw my brother run through fields of gold wide open, but there are plenty of places we stood together that no picture contains. That's one of the hard things about life--no matter how many times you tell yourself to stop and smell the roses, and to make and save memories, you never do it as much as you wish you had.

I don't think there is even such a thing as mint fields--it's more of a container garden or greenhouse crop. But this chorus captures the intense sensory imprints that create our lives' most cherished memories. There are sights, sounds, smells trapped in our minds forever. And when someone you love dies, those memories can become even more surreal, ethereal, and intense like the imagery described in the chorus.

I also love the driving and listening to the radio part, because me and my brother did that a lot in high school--except we always knew all the names to all the songs. And the "not too young to be a cowboy" speaks of big dreams and unfailing support and loyalty to helping each other achieve those dreams.

He was kind of a socially anxious person who worried a lot about how he came off in groups, but he never failed to be himself. However, he still always seemed to save "the real him" for those he was closest to, and it was someone that no words can capture. I liked knowing that he would be that person with me, because it was the greatest person in the world.

Making up your bed that day on a foreign floor between foreign walls Thinking 'bout the words you'd say to a phone that never calls Feel the weight of your father's ring and all those dreams, and all those dreams singing Hey brother, we're all learning to love again

--This verse is particularly striking because I actually had to go to my brother's house a couple of months before he passed away to get it cleaned up for his return from the hospital with a compromised immune system. I literally did "make up his bed on a foreign floor between foreign walls" because he had purchased the home right when he got sick and I had only been upstairs once before.

There is nothing harder than knowing I'll never hear his voice again in this life. That he'll never call me again, that I'll never buy him another birthday present, that I'll never be an aunt to his kids, that I can no longer look to him for advice.

He didn't have our father's ring, but he had so much other sentimental stuff, from other family members and from our childhood that I looked over and held in my hands that day. And after he was gone, the hardest part was thinking of the dreams that died with him. He was married, had just bought a home, had just been accepted to law school, and was thinking of starting a family.

[Chorus]

And I know you like I know my reflection Walking on the water 'cross an ocean of desire Everyone I know is looking for protection Trying to pull down your hometown 'cross a telephone wire 'Cross a telephone wire

--He was my reflection. He was my best friend, from the day I was born until the day he died. Even in high school when he had way cooler friends than his little sister, he never treated me like I was anything less than the best.

This verse captures the anxiety of being the age we were--early 20s--full of dreams but unsure how to make them come true and torn between the teenage desire to get the hell out of town and the urge to reconnect with home that comes with age. Home is also the place where you and your siblings built your bonds. Even if everyone in your high school grew up in the same town, no one knows what "home" means like your siblings do.

'Cause that was the real you standing there in the shape of your body Fear don' know no love when we're all the same That was the real you looking back across the water Tears falling like rain, drops rippling against the shame That was the real you singing hallelujah, looking down a barrel

--This verse reminds me of how he was when he was sick. The shape of his body changed so much. Cancer and chemo are horrendously destructive and the previously robust and bushily bearded man became a weak, trembling, hairless shadow. I no longer connected the soul of my brother with the ravaged body it lived in. His disease was also the source of much shame. The damage it did to his body left his digestive system erratic and uncontrollable. Cancer and treatment left him weak and unable to do the simplest things for himself.

The place where we're all the same must be Heaven, which is where there's no fear and only love.

Looking back across with water in tears is the rare moments when he must have been forced to face his mortality. We never gave up hope, and neither did he, but he must have thought about what could happen to him, and what seemed to be staring him in the face at times.

Singing hallelujah looking down a barrel is facing death and saying "Fuck you." He was well-read and had a philosopher's heart, and the true philosopher doesn't fear death. He wanted life, but he didn't fear death.

[Repeat: x3] Hey brother, we're all learning to love again

In the hours and days right after he died, I was the most ambivalent mix of love and hate imaginable. I was at the same time so tender and so vengeful. I couldn't watch lions hunt on TV, but I could wish horrid deaths for people who cut me off in traffic.

You don't stop loving the people you already loved, but the idea of adding anyone to the list is unthinkable. Never making another friend, never owning another pet. I thought everyone else I knew could die (except my little brother) and it couldn't hurt me a fraction of what this death did.

It gets better. You can learn to love again. But it takes a long time, and it's never the same as it was before.