I was lucky enough to see Michael Kiwanuka play live this week and it was a moving experience that has stuck with me even days later. One song in particular resonated with me, Rule the World. Check it out at one of these, I’ll sit tight while you listen:
Now, I hadn’t heard this song before the show so it wasn’t one that I was waiting for. But it was the one that hit me hardest. And it has lingered with me both because the music is hauntingly beautiful and because the message is so poignant to my life.
The opening lyric, Do I have to rule the world, captures something that I am struggling with. I have lived for as long as I can remember as if I do indeed have to rule the world. As if it’s all on me, success, happiness, living the good life; all of that is on me to deliver to myself. And by ruling the world, rather than just ruling my little slice of it, I feel the pressure to be the best it’s not enough to be good. In this very first lyric, Kiwanuka challenges my whole world-view. And it’s good to challenge this because I can’t possibly rule the world. That’s a ridiculous ideal that I can simply never achieve. Even wanting to rule the world is dooming you to disappointment at not being able to achieve it and guilt that you aren’t good enough.
Powerful stuff and we are one line in.
As we approach the chorus, we learn that Kiwanuka’s answer is a definitive “no”. You don’t have to rule the world. In fact, you need others’ help and you need it all the time. A more realistic path forward:
Help me to see
Who I can be
Help me to know
Where I can go
I have struggled in my life in asking for help. In acknowledging the power of those around me to participate in life. In my worship of rugged individualism, I have missed out on something and Kiwanuka is talking about it. When he sang this verse to me, I began to weep. Truly and honestly, he was able to show me how vulnerable I am and how starved I am for a feeling of belonging, of being part of a team, of not having to bear all that weight by myself.
A little further on, as if it wasn’t already enough, he just hits me hard, right in the feels:
Show me love, show me happiness
I can’t do this on my own
As I write this post, I am feeling it all over again. There’s a lot of life that I can do on my own. But these things: love. happiness. I can’t do them. They don’t work while I am on my own.
Kiwanuka was impressive at delivering this song as he was able to break through the wall of being just another member of the crowd and talk to me personally, in an intimate way, and a way that I desperately need. He is a beautiful man with an amazing talent.
How did I get here?
So, I had this moment and I just shared it with you. But this moment only happened because my entire life lead up to it. So, how did I get to the place where a man singing about needing love would make me weep in public? I think I know some of it.
As a child, I always had to be strong, to be the rock, to be the force of stability in my family. When I was 5 I had to tell my father to take my sister and I away from the life we were leading and move us to a different country. I recognized that my life had already become so absolutely fucked that we needed a reboot. Take a moment on that… I had to tell my father, a grown man, what the right thing to do was and I was 5. I had to be the man because my parents were acting as children. I have had to be strong and tell myself that I didn’t even need the support of my parents since I was younger than my kids are now. I am finally starting to realize how completely fucked that was and I think it’s okay to be angry at my stolen childhood.
As a teen, I discovered Objectivism, and it resonated strongly with me. Here was a philosophy that said that all my independence and outsider status was to be worshiped, was the ideal. It stroked my ego in a way that nothing had before. It gave me validation and at the same time gave me an excuse to ignore others. To be so self-assured that I could just bulldoze forward no matter what.
I think that the above would have been fine except that I added the gasoline to the fire in the form of cannabis. Weed is a hell of a drug and I think it really set me back in two ways: it made me okay with being bored, and it made me anti-social and quiet. When this was mixed with the self-support that I learned from a rough childhood and the worship of individualism that I got from Objectivism, it brought me into a shell that I stayed in for 30 years. “I am alone and I’m proud of it” is what I told myself. And the weed made me okay with that, a little uncomfortable reaching out to others.
All of this came out in 5 minutes at a concert. Wow! These moments are where our lives can change. It’s no wonder that I cried.