Pilots

You know how sometimes you forget about one of your favorite albums or artists and then have a resurgence of love for them a few months down the line? That has happened to me in the last couple of days with the band "Twenty One Pilots." Its name comes from a story about a man, his son, and defective parachutes. That's all I remember.

This band captured my attention a couple of years ago at a friend's friend's house. I liked these friends because they listened to alt music and accepted me right away. We had a pancake-making fest and they were appreciative - they let me pray over the meal before they started eating even though they didn't share my faith.

They're the kind of people who play music all the time. It's distracting for me because I'm a lyric-listener. Having a conversation and trying to follow a song's lyrics at the same time is too much even for my genius brain.

I heard these lyrics and searched them very soon after returning home from the pancake gathering:

"Take the pain, ignite it! Tie a noose around your mind, loose enough to breathe fine and tie it to a tree, and tell it you belong to me, this ain't a noose, this is a leash, and I have news for you: you must obey me."

Brilliant.

Looking back, I didn't even realize how very depressed I was when I heard those words. I couldn't believe someone had put a song together that recognized deep pain the same way a very emo/hardcore band might and offered hope at the same time, the way an annoying Christian pop song might.  And they put intelligent rap together with good music.  I fell in love.

I basically proposed marriage to the lead singer in a letter, too. I found the original note recently (back then I scanned it and sent it by email through his agent; who knows if it ever got to him) and it wasn't actually as bad as I remembered, but I was obviously deeply affected by the music he and his band members created.

Listening to it now is bringing back ghosts of the feelings I felt when I used to play it over and over again while making art or driving long distances. I would feel so strongly that I hardly knew what to do with myself.

The dude was singing about the intense mental suffering I was going through, or had gone through and was healing from.  Not heartbreak or situational suffering, but things people with chemical brain imbalances (aka anxiety, depression, whatever) can relate to.  He was acknowledging suicide and self-harm in an understanding light. There was always an undertone of hope, but the real-ness was stunning. Any band can say, "it hurts so much" but somehow 21 pilots was different.

He also slipped in Biblical references and secret "Christianese" (Christianese is a language that Christians use to the unintentional exclusion of others) that made me feel even more connected to him. I won't bother to put in quotes because I just don't feel like it, except one: "we're broken people."

I can probably get a laugh out of any other Christian with a sense of humor about that phrase - overused and overtrue, it means that humans are imperfect, hurting, sick, messed-up - you name it - meaning our relationship with God is broken. Instead of saying these alternate words (perhaps they fear confusing their feeble flock), all of the pastors across the nation, or perhaps the world, have agreed to call humans "broken people."

That's how I know 21 Pilots shares my faith.

Lol.

Anyway, I want to share this because reliving feelings from a year or so ago is showing me how far I've come and how low I've been. It gives me a new appreciation for friends and family for seeing me through that time, as well as a new appreciation for myself for making it through. It reminds me that some people are still right there, where I was, and I hope that they'll visit their friend's friends' house soon where they'll hear 21 Pilots and be given a new sort of hope.