Paul Simon's song, Slip Sliding Away, is a tune that plays in my head every winter as I drive in snow, sleet, heavy rain, or ice. The melody is a catchy little tune, but the lyrics have no relationship to driving on ice despite my lizard brain making that permanent connection.
This 1977 classic song's lyrics address the perils of living without purpose or gliding through life, living without purpose, or living with regret.
Slip slidin' away Slip slidin' away You know the nearer your destination The more you're slip slidin' away.
The song was critiqued and analyzed as "melancholic with a catchy tune" or a bit "too Cat's-in-the-Cradle" by some reviewers. Still, the song was a hit and resonated with listeners and fans for whatever reason and took its rightful place in the soundtrack of our lives, including mine.
With regard to chronic conditions or conditions with chronicity--yes, it's wordy to say it twice but it means something to me to say it both ways--I think this song really speaks to living with a condition that has chronicity to it.
For a time, maybe on new medications or hopeful placebo effect of another new diet modification or food elimination plan, we believe we are gliding down the highway.
But in fact, we are sliding...
God only knows God makes his plan The information's unavailable To the mortal man We work our jobs Collect our pay Believe we're gliding down the highway When in fact we're slip slidin' away.
Living with a condition that ebbs and flows, comes and goes, never goes away, and disrupts every aspect of one's life from the biggest ideas to the smallest details becomes this very strange journey of sliding all over the road. It's my metaphorical car on the metaphorical road of life, but it's impossible some days to control the car.
If I were truly driving on actual slippery, icy, paved, roads, I could take a foot off the gas, pump the brakes, steer into the slide, or sound the horn to warn other drivers. The metaphor works, to some degree, with a chronic pain condition.
Sure, I can take my foot off the metaphorical gas, but who will undertake the work I do while slowing my speed? Oh wait. No one will do that. The work will be awaiting my return so that I have to work harder, longer, and faster when I feel better.
Sure, I can pump the brakes and decline social plans or try to keep a rigid schedule to try to ensure some kind of participation in normal activities, but other people don't necessarily respond positively to a reduction in activity, slower starts to the mornings, or home activities on weekends. "Hey since you don't have plans..." Well, no. I did have plans. I was metaphorically pumping the metaphorical brakes to get real relief from unbelievably real and pervasive pain.
Sure, I can steer into the slide but what about the metaphorical on-coming traffic? I mean, life goes on. Other people are driving on the road, at different speeds, going different directions. Maybe my steering into the slide causes a metaphorical accident...you get the idea.
I didn't ask Paul Simon to comment on the song lyrics as I have connected them in my head. I doubt he would have any issue with the use of his song to provide comfort and even metaphorical direction in a life so disrupted by a chronic condition or a condition characterized by chronicity.
Footnote: Paul, if you read this, hit me up. Would love to buy us beers, sip mine with purpose, and thank you for your contributions to the sound track of my life.
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