Happy 60th to Tori Amos!

in which you're gonna have to deal with occasional Tori stuff on this here blog

Tori Amos turned 60 today, which freaks me out a bit. I have been a fan since I was 11 years old, and I don’t like to think about how old I actually am. It also makes me think scary thoughts about mortality and the passage of time, and I don’t like it. However, at 60 years old she is still selling out venues like Red Rocks. Any time I feel “old”, I remember that she literally broke her leg and then played two incredible sold out performances at the Beacon Theater here in NYC. If she can do that, I can do 20 minutes on the Peloton when I get home from work and write in my journal. On the whiteboard above my desk, I wrote WWTAD - What Would Tori Amos Do (she would not play several hours of The Sims 4, but I try to live by this principle).

I had to think a bit about how to connect this to neurodiversity, because I am attempting to be focused (LOL), but I think that Tori Amos is a fantastic example of how I learned to make my brain work to my advantage. I was obsessed with her lyrics - especially as a teenager - and marveled at the connections she made between concepts. I’d put money on the idea that Tori is some flavor of neurodiverse, but of course that is just conjecture on my part. Either way, it’s clear that her brain works differently than other people’s. The way she sees the world is so unique, and she draws parallels between things that no one else does. Who else can write a classically inspired ten minute song that is about Anastasia Romanov and the Bolsheviks and connect that to the modern female experience and how to be true to yourself in a time of crisis? Literally no one.

Tori gave me the courage to write more bravely, and to harness my pet obsessions and marry my analytical and creative mind. I stopped trying to write like everyone else, and instead focused on finding my voice. She also gave me the strength and inspiration to endure when I thought all was lost. She gave me a healthy way to process trauma and grief. She made me believe in the magic of communal live experience, more than theater even did. She made me feel seen and made me feel less “weird”. It’s strange when a person who doesn’t know you makes you feel understood. Perhaps that’s part of why she has become such an icon in the LGBTQ+ community. She does not identify as queer, but the way she was able to tap into the hearts and minds of people who grew up feeling “different” is extraordinary. I always knew I was different. She helped me be less afraid of that. I will be forever grateful.

At any rate, I won’t write an essay (anytime I talk about Tori its IN THIS ESSAY I WILL), but I would feel remiss without giving this occasion at least a mention.

In my darkest moments earlier this year, before my diagnosis and when I truly thought I was losing my mind, her song Climb (from her highly underrated 2017 album Native Invader) was a comfort. In fact, this Substack is named after it. These are the lyrics that got me through, and that continue to get me through:

Climb out of the belly of the beast, she said
Become a witness out of the abyss
The temple of the soul will have to heal the flesh
Only when you’re whole can you forgive
but it’s a long long climb…
It’s a long long climb

Happy birthday, T. I love you.