<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7860396254535515870</id><updated>2012-02-12T13:40:36.003-08:00</updated><category term='Nostalgia'/><category term='Music'/><title type='text'>elephant hearts</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elephanthearts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7860396254535515870/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elephanthearts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>the author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17539861474017209175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7860396254535515870.post-3331838622216439595</id><published>2012-02-05T21:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T21:13:17.262-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Brotherly Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I have this vivid memory of when a song made me cry for the first time. I was six. I remember the loneliness of sitting in my mother's bed as I wept. I remember clutching onto my disc-man because it was my most loved possession. I remember crying out of sadness, not for myself, but for the boys who wrote the song - because something in their lives allowed them to write it. It was in this moment that I first understood that words have this incredible, unparalleled power. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in this moment that I found my first love within every word that the Hanson brothers wrote down. I saw the world through their music at an age when I couldn't see things for myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8KQyOflMrm0/Ty9Ym6GpacI/AAAAAAAAACY/f2c_dlOEVb4/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="263" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8KQyOflMrm0/Ty9Ym6GpacI/AAAAAAAAACY/f2c_dlOEVb4/s400/Picture+9.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;MMMbop image courtesy of The Island Def Jam Music Group (1997). &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;The Hanson brothers mean the absolute world to me. When I look back on  my childhood, I realize that an immense portion of what I stand for today are things that they taught me. It was through their songs that I  discovered empathy, togetherness, and even heartbreak. They taught me  what something sounds like when it's bittersweet. Hanson made me  question the way things work, because at six years old I couldn't fathom  the idea of a music video and its visual capability.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R1j3EmXItwA/Ty9fHrJQEFI/AAAAAAAAACg/JVY1_OmTSAo/s1600/Picture+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="257" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R1j3EmXItwA/Ty9fHrJQEFI/AAAAAAAAACg/JVY1_OmTSAo/s400/Picture+6.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;MMMbop image courtesy of The Island Def Jam Music Group (1997).&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Hanson will be playing a concert in Toronto in four days. I'm not going. I'm not going even though it's on my hypothetical bucket list to see them play. I guess there's a tiny part of me that's afraid of hearing that same song again - except this time, it won't be fed through the mechanics of a disc-man. There's this tiny part of me that fears the song won't mean the same thing it did to me when I was six-years-old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I Will Come to You" is the name of the song that made me cry. I loved that song from start to finish, because it meant that three young boys had this immense capacity for kindness. I loved them for writing that song because they found something beautiful inside the sadness that everyone feels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never throw out my Hanson CDs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4wQOlkdBz6A/Ty9f4hKJU-I/AAAAAAAAACw/w4JGgLxNMhM/s1600/Picture+16.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="276" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4wQOlkdBz6A/Ty9f4hKJU-I/AAAAAAAAACw/w4JGgLxNMhM/s400/Picture+16.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I Will Come to You image courtesy of The Island Def Jam Music Group (1997). &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7860396254535515870-3331838622216439595?l=elephanthearts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://elephanthearts.blogspot.com/feeds/3331838622216439595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://elephanthearts.blogspot.com/2012/02/brotherly-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7860396254535515870/posts/default/3331838622216439595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7860396254535515870/posts/default/3331838622216439595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://elephanthearts.blogspot.com/2012/02/brotherly-love.html' title='Brotherly Love'/><author><name>the author</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17539861474017209175</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8KQyOflMrm0/Ty9Ym6GpacI/AAAAAAAAACY/f2c_dlOEVb4/s72-c/Picture+9.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
