Love Now

Song story & origins

Introduction

The song we’ll look at this time is “Love Now”, first released on Refuge (2017) and later appearing in a live version on Live in the Black Hills, Vol. 2 (2019).

Where the song came from

I wrote Love Now here in Spearfish Canyon, soon after moving in full-time. Our studio, Dance and Moon, is actually part of our home, and the canyon walls tower above us. From our deck, I can sit and look up: at eagles, hawks, smaller birds, and at night the bats. That daily sight fed this song.

It also traces back to childhood memories—lying on my back, watching clouds, imagining I might lift off. I describe it in the lyric as “the native state of me was flight.” As children we often feel destined for more than gravity allows; then adulthood teaches us weight, limits, and fears.

The line about vision—“doing well just to see”—reflects midlife realities too. I now wear prescription sunglasses to drive. Details blur more easily. The body becomes clumsier, less sure, less coordinated. It’s humbling.

What the song is saying

The sun becomes a central image. In the canyon, sunrise is delayed because it must climb the canyon wall; sunset comes early for the same reason. The light is brief, but always returns.

“The sun, she climbs these canyon walls, lights midwinter like a distant star, bright but cold as hell.”

That paradox is key: the sun can be dazzling, especially against snow, yet the air remains freezing. In that tension comes the refrain: “You gotta dance before you fall; love now, or not at all.”

The second stanza compares old houses to memory and hurt. Growing up, I’d stare at ceilings where storms had left brown stains. They told stories of rain and damage. I extend the image into relationships: “Every corner stores a grudge. I try to lift; they just won’t budge.” It’s about friendships soured, betrayals, wounds that linger. Sometimes grudges feel immovable. And yet—the sun still climbs, hope still comes, even into the hardest corners.

The ending section pushes further: “So here I go again, I try to scale these broken walls.” Canyon walls break into beautiful shards; life’s fractures can be sharp but still magnificent. Climbing them becomes a metaphor for fighting through despair, holding the heart like a beacon, even when it feels “bright but cold as hell.”

The closing lines distill the whole truth:

To learn to fly, you learn to fall. Falling is inevitable; it’s part of learning.

Love now, not at all. Love now—that is all. Love is not conditional or delayed until circumstances improve. It must be given now, from one’s own nature.

Music and arrangement

Musically, Love Now began on a nylon-string classical guitar. Its soft timbre matched the song’s contemplative tone. I kept the arrangement sparse: voice, guitar, and subtle keyboard strings filling in cello and bass lines. In my studio work I often use keyboard to approximate instruments like cello when scheduling a live player proves impractical. Here, the virtual cello’s warmth supported the intimacy of the nylon guitar without overwhelming it.

The whole arrangement is gentle, restrained. The point is not to dazzle but to let the lyric and the canyon imagery carry weight.

Why it stays with me

Love Now captures both childlike longing for flight and adult awareness of falling. It faces grudges and loss, yet insists on love as the only real response. Written in Spearfish Canyon, it’s rooted in a place where shadows linger long, but sunlight eventually climbs.

For me it remains a personal mantra: I cannot wait to love when conditions are perfect. Love now. That is all.

Source: New Music Memoir (1).docx

From the Being Human journal

I started writing Love Now, I think, as a song about getting older and losing my belief that I could do anything… but I ended up writing about holding grudges. Maybe I can do anything… maybe I can fly… if I can drop the silly grudges that weigh me down. Am I waiting for them to “deserve” it or “earn” it? Well, then I’ll be weighed down by this crap forever.

Source: Being Human: The Songs — Album & Journal (2020) · p. 21

Being Human · The Songs

Reflection & journaling

Theme: Forgiveness

Choose a question or word or line(s) from the lyrics to guide your meditation or journaling as you listen.

1. What hurts am I holding?
2. What grudges are still piling up in the corners of my house?
3. How can I deal with the real pain of these injuries but not let that pain define me or limit me?
4. Do I have friends or others who know my pain, know my grudges?
5. Can we help each other not wait to love… but rather, love now?
6. What would that look like?

Source: Being Human: The Songs — Album & Journal (2020) · p. 21