Reading into things (a bit too much)

Lately I've been obsessed with this one song. It's by Neko Case and called 'Furnace Room Lullaby' from the album of the same name. I'll include the lyrics here:

All night… all I hear… all I hear is your heart
How come? How come…

I twisted you over and under to take you
The coals went so wild as they swallowed the rest
I twisted you under and under to break you
I just couldn't breathe with your throne on my chest

So far under the bed
Into the beams you've gone
I've gone… you've gone

I'm wrapped in the depths of these deeds that have made me
I can't bring a sound from my head though I try
I can't seem to find my way up from the basement
A demon holds my place on earth 'till I die

All night… all I hear… all I hear is your heart
How come? How come…

I can't help but think about redemption. I don't mean Judgement Day and holy hosts and such, that really isn't my cup of tea. I'm talking about personal redemption in this lifetime. You see, there isn't a lot of stuff I regret about my life, but the things I've done that I do regret are of a pretty heavy nature. Sometimes I think my obsession with sailboats is because there is a certain lightness of spirit associated with sailing. I often think I'd just like to pack a solo cruiser up with supplies and travel for a couple years. Out on the water civilization seems very distant, even with land in sight. My solitude no longer feels like penance. On a sailboat there is nothing that is not absolutely necessary (keep in mind I don't spend much time on luxury yachts) and each thing has a very specific purpose. Once you get used to boats, there is nothing that seems arcane in nature. I'm pretty handy, but I get confused by most engines made after 1990. The engine on a sailboat has a very simple purpose, and is used infrequently. I can take one apart and put it back together without even consulting a schematic or manual. Winches, blocks, rudders, and boom vangs seem almost holy in their simplicity and usefulness. Anything larger than a dinghy has color-coded halyards and sheets.
Wow I've gotten off track. I suppose that's a common blog occurrence. Well, back to the song. I've always been primarily interested in certain songs for the lyrics. I mean, the music is what catches me, but the lyrics hold me. (This could be part of the reason I never cared for jam bands.) The music feels funereal, like a country requiem. The mourning is for times past. You see, there was a girl. (There always is, it seems like.) I knew her for a while, but then I went away. I came back after a while and saw her. She hit me in the head without even moving. I couldn't even think straight. Things evolved for a while as fate does that thing that she does. It was shockingly perfect. Except I felt a nagging thing in the back of my head. I think part of it was my own blooming insanity, but part of it was her devotion. She was becoming the high priestess in the temple of me. It became an extreme version of what Plato called the mentor relationship. My insanity was progressing to the point that I felt almost holy. I always had a knack for talking, but now I could tell anybody anything. I felt like I could see right through a person's head. It was like a personal magnetism, an agressive charisma. I became self-destructive. I hurt this girl and some other people (emotionally) and ended up getting kicked out of school and hurting myself pretty badly with a knife. Not quite David Koresh, but in an emotional sense, very similar.
For a long time I thought, what did I do? What happened to make me deserve this? Gradually I came to realize that why isn't really important. I saw the path, I walked down it, I fell off the cliff. There is no cosmic reason for the path, and no one pushed me off the cliff. Every step I take is one I take myself. And now I'm trying to climb out of this hole and it isn't really working. I've withdrawn into myself to such a degree that people don't often recognize me. So where do I go from this point? I often think that somehow I will redeem myself and come back into the light of day, the girl will come back and somehow everything will be restored. However, I'm realized that, like there is no 'god' that sent me into the hole, there is also no 'god' to forgive and restore me either. That's the pesky problem with redemption. There's a quote, from Ecclesiastes no less, that illustrates that even in biblical times people didn't really believe either.

"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might; for there is no work, no device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."