Coldplay's Fix You: And I What?

I’ve been writing about behavior again. In this case, “behavior” is one of the words in my eBook - Feeling Stuck? From Stuck? to Move! In 10 words - and based on my work at EncourageEncounter. (The book is free if you sign up for our mailing list.) I’m at the point where I want to write about “copula,” one of my favorite words, and a compelling, very unique word for writing about the nature of human experience.

I also listen to music as I write. Coldplay’s song Fix You came on as I was working through the below text. It’s a song about being Stuck? It’s a song about the power of insight, and it’s ability to get us to Move!

The character in the song is Stuck? It’s the narrator who discovers great insight. What happen to the two? The whole drama centers around the question: “And I what?” It’s the question which matters, rather than the compulsive, needy urge urge to “fix you.”

This question ties copula to Coldplay. First lets start with copula.

In The Beginning: Copula

One of the most essential sentences ever conceived is “I am.” It’s the recognition of the self. One of the first things which happens when we talk out loud about our horrible predicaments is that we hear about “I” and the things which happened. We hear perspective on the events involving the self.

If we say, “My asshole boss yelled at me during the meeting,” we hear, “I was yelled at by my asshole boss.” After we hear or state “I am…” (or “I was…”), we want to know: “What is it that I am?” or perhaps “And I what? I did what?”

There is the what which I am. There is both the separation of what from I and the unification of what and I. However much we incorporate what into I, the what is its own, separate thing. The verb to be, in this case, sits in the middle. I and what must be separate for us to find perspective. Wholeness is the absence of the thing in the between what and I.

The name for this thing in between is “copula” - a fun word open to many innuendos. Crudely put, a copula f&^ks up wholeness, a feeling most people yearn for. Pieces are united, but wholeness is not union. When we don’t feel whole, when we feel somehow unable, unworthy or confused, we are “copula”-ed.

What we yearn to do is to “un-copula” ourselves. We want to fix ourselves somehow. If we project this urge, we want to fix you. The interplay created by “copula” suggests a comic duo: f&^k and fix.

Fix Me. No, no, fix you!

Fix You, by Coldplay, opens with the gentle sway of church organs. This song is undoubtedly spiritual, like a hymn. It’s in praise of what? What does it celebrate?

There are four characters in Coldplay’s Fix You, “you,” “it,” “lights” and “I.” "You" failed. You didn’t get what you need. You can’t sleep. A devastating loss crushed your heart. You suffer from “it.”

You are Stuck? because of “it.” “I” let you know “Lights” will guide you home and light your bones. Sounds like the source of the needed healing.

If this was what the song was about, it would be a sappy, anthem-like get-well card. It would be great music, not a great song. But this song isn’t about fixing you. It’s a song about “I.”

“I” what? “I” want to fix “you.” F&^k the lights. I will “fix you?!?”

Do you see the copula now? During the song, the answer to “I what?” starts with “fix you.” The answer changes though. This change creates a giant moment of celebration (because Fix You is hymn after all).

What of the fixing you which “I” want to do? How needy, crass, co-dependent does that sound? If you suffer from “it,” I suffer from it too. I cannot manage my empathy for your suffering. I am in pain and must control and compel you healing regardless of the “lights.” I don’t trust the lights.

“I” what? I suffer and want to fix you.

Somehow, because the “lights” are involved, they help me see before I can make matters worse. In fact, the lights show me your bones, as if I have x-ray vision which enables me to recognize your wounds. I gain the light’s illuminated insight. “You,” on the other hand, suffer too much to see them at all.

And I What…?

Given the presence of lights, I what? What is it I do to try to fix you? I counsel you to “let it go.” I promise a reward: “if you never try, you never know just what your worth.” The lights illuminate your problem so that I might give valuable counsel.

And “I” what? What is it I do with this counsel? I let it go: specifically, I let your suffering go. I am shocked by the end of my suffering. I am in awe (as I must be because this song is a hymn). But do I have perspective yet?

Right after I give my valuable counsel, the song celebrates “I“‘s transformation and changes into a soaring anthem. The guitars strum. The drums bang. In the video, lights explode for concert’s giant audience (the hymn’s congregation). The chorus sings as if the heavens open. The change in the song is sudden, as if to signify the revelation promised to us with the first opening chord of the church organ.

Have I “fixed you?” It that what’s revealed? What happens to “you?” “You” what? You are still crying. You become what? You do what? You lost something you cannot replace and cannot let it go. You still suffer, which sucks.

“And I….” The song gets stuck when I sing “And I….” And I what? I do what? The song begs these questions. They are the center if its drama. “And I….” I sing with passion, but I am still searching for perspective. “And I….”

And I find the answer. “I” what? I Move!: I promise to learn from your mistakes; I learn to let it go; and I remember what I’m worth. I find new capacity, self-worth and insight. “Lights” illuminate, and I transform.

At the end, the song calms down with the quality of genuine resolution. Highly personal, intimate piano replaces the lofty church organ which opened the song, as if to prove “I” accept and understand the light’s divine insight.

With fresh perspective, “I” sing a sincere promise, rather than needy compulsion, to “fix you.” Because I can let go of “I“‘s suffering, I can act with compassion. Our spirit heard the chorus’s revelation, our heart hears “I“‘s commitment to service.

Failed Fixing

The song which immediately followed on my iPod was the tragic version of Fix You: Drive By Truckers played Wednesday. Doesn’t the name Drive By Truckers sound intimately related to getting “copula”-ed, as if it were a nature part of life?