I was blessed enough to attend a Paul McCartney concert here in Ottawa on Sunday night—an evening of many perfect moments. Before he sang “Blackbird,” he told the audience he wrote the song at the time of civil unrest in the southern United States. When he wrote it, he envisioned someone strolling through a store feeling a lift of hope upon hearing the song over the speakers.
Paul McCartney: lighthouse.
A lighthouse stands steady and shines light to those who need help or guidance. The lighthouse doesn’t try to save everyone, everywhere; it shines light in its own corner of the world, leaving other rocky shores to the care of others. A lighthouse doesn’t target its light at a certain area. If it concentrated on one area or boat in distress, it would leave others to perish on the rocks. The light looks different to every receiver, depending on point of view. Some people can’t see the light at all, for they are too far away and don’t need the light. A lighthouse shines steadily, dependably as a source of good.
McCartney asked how many people in the audience had tried to learn “Blackbird” on the guitar. I sizable portion had. (I have. Have you?) When I plucked out those notes on my guitar, I didn’t know the spark that had led to its creation. I just knew it gave me a lift of hope.
McCartney shone the light of “Blackbird.” He didn’t try to save everyone, everywhere; he shone his light in his corner of the world and left other rocky shores to the care of others. He didn’t target his song in a certain area so he wouldn’t leave others to perish on the rocks. The song looked different to every receiver, depending on point of view. Some people didn’t see it at all, for they were far away and didn’t need the light.
The song shone steadily, dependably as a source of good.