There are songs that shape us quietly, and then there are songs that crack us wide open. For me, “Closer to Fine” by the Indigo Girls has always been the latter.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve sung it at the top of my lungs with the windows down, wind in my hair, heart cracked open just enough to let the light in. It was my anthem when things felt uncertain, when I was too tired to be strong, or when I was daring to believe that maybe I didn’t need to have it all figured out.

The lyrics speak to something tender and true: our human impulse to search for answers in all the places we’re told we should—books, experts, spiritual leaders, even the bottom of a glass. But what makes this song so powerful is the realization it gently leads us toward:

“The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.”

There’s such grace in that line. It doesn’t say “I’m fine.” It says closer to fine. It’s not about arriving. It’s about loosening our grip. It’s about permission—to not know, to change our minds, to listen to our own rhythms.

As a future therapist, a mother, a woman in the middle of many reinventions, I often find myself sitting with people who, like me, are aching for clarity. But sometimes what we really need isn’t a map—it’s a moment. A deep breath. A reminder that life doesn’t need to be solved like a puzzle, but held like a song.

So, when the pressure mounts and the world feels too loud, I remember those drives—music up, expectations down, and something holy in the letting go.

Maybe healing looks a little like that:
Not arriving.
Just getting closer to fine.