When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark.
Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone.
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone. Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II (1895-1960) for the 1945 tragic romance musical Carousel.
As the lifespan of songs go, this one is epic. Part of a successful partnership in American musical theatre, Hammerstein worked with composer Richard Rodgers (1902-1979) on the music. The song was first recorded in 1945 by the Broadway show cast, before being covered by Frank Sinatra, who released it as a single.
Liverpool band Gerry and the Pacemakers released their version of the song in 1963, when football crowds would sing pop hits of the time. It went onto become the club’s rousing anthem, with messages of hope and solidarity in adversity resonating strongly. It acquired even greater power and meaning after the Hillsborough stadium disaster in 1989, when almost 100 fans died, and it remains an important part of the matchday ritual to this day.
The song is also sung by supporters of Glasgow Celtic (adopted after a 1966 trip to Liverpool), Borussia Dortmund, Feyenoord and FC Tokyo. It’s fair to say that this song has serious air-miles. There are thousands of people who sing the words by heart roughly every week, people to whom the words and music have enormous meaning.
It’s a special thing, and there’s a lot to consider through the lens of mental health.
Mental health and walking alone
Mental health can be shaped by beliefs and behaviours concerning aloneness, loneliness, togetherness, unity and connection. Words describing them wield great power and a subtlety that is broadly accepted. The word ‘lonely’ is typically considered as negative and sad. Being alone, somewhat less so. Saying you are lonely may also be considered weak. But to declare yourself self-sufficient and independent: strong. Consider “are you still single?” And the weighty expectations placed on people to be in relationships. Consider “I have been happily married for 50 years!” And the reductive simplicity of the expression. There are many layers of meaning in the language we ascribe to being solitary and connected.
These states can change across a lifetime. Loneliness is said to be one of the biggest killers of elderly people, and the shame of feeling weak and lonely, a burden to others, could be a big part of that. But it can impact people at any age.
Connection is perhaps simplest when young, first through the natural survival instinct of attachment, then the socialisation structures of education. It steadily becomes more complicated. Most lives are not permanently connected to others, nor always entirely alone. They move from day to day and through different stages of life. To be solely with yourself in a contented way can offer a great sense of inner peace. Consider the modern embracing of mindfulness, meditation, and self acceptance. Consider how good sleep can feel.
It’s possible to feel comfortable and content in your own company for a period of time, engrossed in a film or a book or a game, or asleep. But after a while there invariably arrives that appetite for human connection.
Of course it’s also possible to feel entirely depressed and miserable about feeling alone, negative and cynical about your chances of any personally meaningful connection. Like you are entirely disconnected because you are so freakishly unusual, so unattractive, because you don’t or can't trust anyone or anything. That can be a result of early trauma or adverse childhood experiences.
Aloneness versus connection
We all might reflect on our natural, default beliefs and behaviours when it comes to how we approach our aloneness and connectedness: how we function in relationships, in teams or small groups, in local communities, or in society as a whole.
Do we feel open to connection, or more reserved, or alienated and inhibited? How could we feel more connected? Do we shrink from that idea because it feels uncomfortable and untrustworthy? There’s risk of pain and rejection, which our experience might tell us is best avoided. Our own bubble of perception risks being pierced, and that pain outweighs the potential reward.
We sometimes walk alone
You’ll never walk alone. That's the song title, and the most repeated words of the song. The words on the famous gate at Liverpool’s stadium. The truth is that we all inevitably walk alone sometimes, and it can feel tough and lonely if we are walking through a storm, and harder still if we are facing our own mortality at the end of life. We have to manage it in our own way, and that can involve reaching out for help. Precisely how we navigate the feeling of disconnection or loneliness is critical.
A less prominent line to cling to is “walk on, with hope in your heart”. The idea of continuing and persisting regardless, with hope and optimism: this is what probably resonates for many. The dogged, day-to-day, week-to-week, match-to-match determination, to keep walking on in the hope of better. As we do through life and all it throws at us, connected or alone. And while we do that we are invited to find meaning in connection to something bigger than ourselves. That could be through football, through family, community, faith in religion, or all of them. As with so much in mental health, a lot arrives back at the doorstep of belief.
I haven’t researched deeply into the life of Oscar Hammerstein II, but to pen words that evoke such meaning for so many people over such a long period of time is magnificent. And the music isn’t bad either. Add in several thousand voices singing as one, scarves and flags, fervour and pride, and it’s enough to make anyone feel hopeful.
