Like many of John's songs, Going to Georgia works for me on levels far beyond its most obvious meaning (in this case, a guy coming back to a girl).
This song brings to mind the transcendent and inexplicable joy I've often found when I cross a line from one paradigm in my life to another. Often it is despair or frustration (the "Colt .45 with a busted safety catch") that drives me across that line. The surprise is how often what I call "grace" (the woman at the door who eases the gun from my hand) shows up when I cross that line. Crossing the paradigm line often means ending up what seems like "nowhere" and yet at the same time feels strangely like coming home. When that happens, I find myself "frozen with joy, right where I stand."
Like many of John's songs, Going to Georgia works for me on levels far beyond its most obvious meaning (in this case, a guy coming back to a girl).
This song brings to mind the transcendent and inexplicable joy I've often found when I cross a line from one paradigm in my life to another. Often it is despair or frustration (the "Colt .45 with a busted safety catch") that drives me across that line. The surprise is how often what I call "grace" (the woman at the door who eases the gun from my hand) shows up when I cross that line. Crossing the paradigm line often means ending up what seems like "nowhere" and yet at the same time feels strangely like coming home. When that happens, I find myself "frozen with joy, right where I stand."