Podcast: Leonard Cohen – Thanks For The Dance


Hello, and welcome back to the Radio of Resistance.

First, I would like to thank you all of you, whoever you are, wherever you are at in this vast, immense world where life happens. Your support raise me up and keep me going, and for that, I hope that this podcast would do the same for you.

And I guess it’s time to say good bye for now.

I begin the podcast, somewhat, with Leonard Cohen’s poetry collection, “The Flame.” We’ve been through so many other authors, so many other brilliance literary works, so many tears, and so much courage. We pick ourselves up and pull ourselves through. And though life breaks us, we refuse to let it kill us.

We, me and you, we have accomplish something great. Something like Leonard Cohen’s “The Flame.”

And thus, it would be just to end the first season with Leonard Cohen.

Thanks for the dance

It was hell, it was swell

It was fun.

Leonard Cohen, Thanks for the Dance

I started the journey after so many nights listening to Leonard Cohen’s “Thanks for the Dance,” a music album released post-humously by Mr. Cohen’s estate. If you ask me what I had hoped to create by uploading my podcast in that very beginning moment, I would have said, Nothing.

I didn’t hope to change the world in one night, or one little podcast series. I didn’t hope by some sort of miracle, I can end wars and bring peace to the little children and the giant beasts. I didn’t hope to grow it into some sort of being that is loved and sheltered in your heart.

After all, we have learned that the moment we begin to hope is also the moment we begin to despair.

But I charged ahead.

Even now, I don’t know if the podcast is a successful adventure, where I save the princess and hunt down the treasure. I ran through Milan Kundera to learn about the lightness of being. I crossed through Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s fairy tales, where all is dying and none is saved. I swam through the vast ocean of Jose Saramago’s “All the Names,” wishing that Senhor Jose had had a happier ending, that the dead and the living can come to some sort of agreement.

And there is just so much more I want to walk through. From Albert Camus’s “The Myth of Sisyphus” to Patrick Modiano’s “In the Cafe of Lost Youth.” From Ernest Hemingway’s “A Farewell to Arms” to William Faulkner’s “As I Lay Dying.” From Yasunari Kawabata’s “Snow Country” to Natsume Soseki’s “Kokoro.”

But everything needs time. And now is the perfect time to say goodbye. To take a rest from climbing the high mountain. To see how far we, both you and me, have come through. To celebrate the living, the fact that we wake up this morning, and walk through another day.

We are all heroes of our own story.

It’s torn where you’re dancing, it’s torn everywhere
It’s torn on the right and it’s torn on the left
It’s torn in the center which few can accept

It’s torn where there’s beauty, it’s torn where there’s death
It’s torn where there’s mercy but torn somewhat less
It’s torn in the highest from kingdom to crown
The messages fly but the network is down

Leonard Cohen, It’s Torn

Yes, I see your beauty, which is made of these shredded sheets, these patched up wounds, these bruises and tear. And though it’s torn everywhere, you decide to walk on. There are many options – many choices – to make, and how I am glad that you choose to live, to be here with me, to follow the resistance.

How I am glad you are a survivor.

I once see a video about suicidal incident in this one country. I will hide the country’s name for the sake of political trigger. In this video, there was this beautiful boy with a mask on, saying, I have attempted suicide three times and nobody knows. His eyes glistened. The eyelashes fanned out and cascaded a shadow of sadness all over his face. And in that moment, I thought, What are we suffering for?

He is a survivor, and no one celebrate that. And who knows for how long he can continue to be a survivor. To choose life. To wake up in the morning and be glad that he is still alive. That he did not take an overdose. He was not hung on the ceiling. He did not jump down the bridge.

We are all fighting a silence war. And I don’t want to see anyone ends up like that boy, that very beautiful soul who struggled far too much and received so little.

So I started the resistance, with one simple thought: let yourself off the hook.

It’s more than simply shouting a “Don’t die” out there in thin air. Rather, I want to plant seeds. The seeds of little baobab trees. I want to water it, nurture it, and turn it into this powerful, overwhelming being within you.

I have done all of it, and I am willing to do more, so that that sadness, that shadow from the quivering eyelashes of the boy who survived the storm on the darken sea will not fall on your face and destroy your beauty.

Come gather the pieces all scattered and lost
The lie in what’s holy, the light in what’s not
The story’s been written, the letter’s been sealed
You gave me a lily, but now it’s a field

Leonard Cohen, It’s Torn

You are all beautiful souls. You fight against invisible enemies and monsters of your own. You see the lie in what’s holy and the light in what’s not. You charge ahead knowing that you may fall down the abyss, one of these days, but also knowing that you have the strength to climb back up. And you will climb back up; torn and broken to pieces, but you will climb back up.

You, my dearest audience, you gave me a lily to continue. And I hope that one of these days, I can grow that beautiful lily into a field.

So thanks for the dance. Thanks for all the dances that lead us from zero to here. Thanks for surviving and thanks for the fighting. You made the Radio of Resistance a reality, and the resistance won’t stop. I hope you will be ready and be there for Season 2 of the Radio of Resistance. In the meantime, if you want to follow my projects and hear my voice, you can follow my Facebook page, The Bipolar Psyche’s Books, or my Instagram @bipolar_psyche. To support the podcast, which I dearly need, you can become a Patron on my Patreon account, patreon.com/bipolar_psyche. Only on my Patreon can you hear the audio version of my novels and poems on a weekly and monthly basis. You can also send me commissions, which I am much happy to oblige. Your donation will help me sustain the podcast, researching new materials, and make the episode with higher quality devices.

If you don’t want to make a monthly commitment, I would also greatly appreciate your one-time donation through paypal.me/bipolarpsyche. Your donations, even the smallest ones, are the force to keep the resistance going.

So once again, thank you for a great season. Thank you for being the person that you are. Thank you for the support and for always being there.

Thanks for the dance.

I am Thanh Dinh, and you are listening to the Radio of Resistance.

Author: Thanh Dinh

A writer at heart. A pessimist on the brain. I am always on the great journey of finding what it means to be living.

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