OUT OF OUR ELEMENT with Dan Malossi and Lauren Roedy Vaughn

The Players:

LRV = Lauren Roedy Vaughn

DM = Dan Malossi

LRV: The year was 19-something-something. I was eight years old and attending my first concert (Shaun Cassidy) with my friend Cynthia. 

Since 19-something-something is “the before-times,” let me show you Shaun Cassidy. 

We once called that round black thing by young Mr. Cassidy a “record album.” I still hear the title track, “Da Doo Ron Ron” as muzak played soothingly as I roam the aisles of my local grocery store, lulled into impulse purchases by gauzy nostalgia. 

Anyway, at this particular concert in the before-times, Shaun invited an opening band: The Virgins—a group of guys wearing thin, solid-color tee-shirts with “Virgin” written in black iron-on bubble lettering across their chests.

DM: Ahhhh, boys…methinks thou doth protest too much. And cheaply. Did they at least rock the house?

LRV: Well, we’d never heard of the Virgins, and I highly doubt any of the other tens of thousands of girls under the age of twelve had either, but when they started to play, the crowd went wild. Cynthia turned to me and our adult chaperones and asked earnestly, “Who would scream for a bunch of virgins?” 

I shrugged because yeah, who would? We were eight. What did we know about virgins and their ability to rile a crowd? 

We’ve since learned. Because that’s what you do—learn. Over time. I’m compassionate about ignorance because it’s a place we’ve all visited in some form or another. 

Ignorance is a stop on the path of becoming. It should not be the destination. 

Becoming. Evolving. These are archetypal ideas for our time. All of us are wired for this journey. So, let’s go!

DM: I’m thinking some people become worse, stagnate, devolve. By not striving to get better. But not you, Lauren. Because I don’t think you’ve attended any teeny-bop concerts in the last few years…am I wrong?

LRV: No…but I’ll tell you, Cynthia and I loved ourselves some Shaun Cassidy…when we were eight. 

In fact, the other night, I heard Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love” on the radio. First, it took me back to circa 1986, frolicking on beaches when that song first came out, blasting through boomboxes in Malibu and Honolulu. (I’ve enjoyed a blessed life geographically.) That song was part of the soundtrack of my older-than-eight-but-still-much-younger self, when music was not deconstructed for meaning. Its sole purpose was to inspire young-adult joy. 

But the other night, Windwood’s lyrics went further; they penetrated me.

DM: No offense to the Virgins, who I’m sure are reading this…sorry, boys.

“Think about it, there must be higher love

Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above

Without it, life is wasted time

Look inside your heart, I’ll look inside mine”

Damn, Steve nailed it.

LRV: Sure did. I’m a couple years older, and things I’ve learned coalesced with his words. That’s part of what it means to evolve…to become. Things unfold in a more forward way. One year you’re clueless about virgins, or about why people scream for them. 

A few years down the road, you’re penetrated. You hear a song you’ve heard countless times, and it touches you somewhere deep. Insert any number of puerile jokes here. 

But really, you show up to a moment with more tools and more experience. You’re more capable of understanding. 

Here’s what I know now: there really is a higher love in the stars and in our hearts. Literally. Quantum physics proves this connection; math—as it shows up in nature and in man—proves this connection. For reference, see the Fibonacci Sequence.

The mystics have something to say about this connection, too. You can go on YouTube and find videos if you want more specifics on this higher love and its design. Fall down a beautiful rabbit hole on your journey to becoming. 

That might be good for some people who need to change/elevate the nature of their online algorithms. Thanks, Virgins. Thanks, Steve Winwood. Heartholes, may you all find your higher loves. Look inside your heart…

I’ll look inside mine.