Why We All Love “Sweet Caroline” I couldn’t get the song “Sweet Caroline” out of my heart this week, so I decided to listen to what it might be trying to tell me. I recently took some rare time off and saw the movie Song Sung Blue. It’s based on a true story about a veteran who struggled with alcoholism, found sobriety, and then found his way back to life through music. He meets a woman with a beautiful voice who sings Patsy Cline, and together they become a Neil Diamond tribute duo, calling themselves “Lightning and Thunder.” (She prefers the phrase “Neil Diamond interpretation.”) No matter where they perform, no matter what other songs they sing, there is always one song the audience longs for: “Sweet Caroline.” And as I sat in the theater, I realized that for most of us, the moment the title is spoken, the melody begins to rise in the heart. We may not even know why — we just feel it. Yes, it’s fun to sing.
Yes, it carries the warmth of romance.
But I believe there is something deeper. I think we all want to be someone’s “Sweet Caroline.” Whether we are male or female, young or old, partnered or alone, there is a place in the human heart that longs to be seen, named, cherished, and called forth with tenderness. When I was fourteen, I had a boyfriend who called me his “Sweet Caroline.” At the time, I didn’t fully understand why it mattered. Now I do. It wasn’t the name itself — it was the feeling of being someone’s beloved, someone whose presence made a heart sing. And here is where the mystery deepens. Mark Nepo often shares a remarkable truth:
When two heart cells from two different people are placed together in a Petri dish, over time they begin to beat with the same rhythm. Two body-less cells… finding a shared pulse. There were years when I could barely say that without tears. It is such a holy image. If two simple cells can find a common rhythm, then surely two human beings — housed in these miraculous bodies, carrying memory, longing, love, and hope — can also learn to create a space where hearts begin to beat in harmony. This is where listening becomes sacred. There is a difference between hearing with our ears and listening with our hearts. I call the latter heartful listening. Heartful listening begins with willingness: • Willingness to know and honor that my feelings, perceptions, thoughts, and truths are part of me, and that I am entitled to them.
• Willingness to know and honor that your feelings, perceptions, thoughts, and truths are part of you, and that you are entitled to them.
• Willingness to stay present as we speak and as we listen, without trying to dominate, dismiss, or disappear. When two people meet in this willingness, something extraordinary can happen. A relational field is created. A resonance begins. And like those two heart cells, something in us starts to beat in unison. Perhaps this is why “Sweet Caroline” never grows old. It is not only a song about love.
It is a song that invites belonging.
It calls forth the memory of being welcomed, named, joined, and celebrated.
It awakens the hope that somewhere, someone is singing us into presence. And maybe, in the deepest sense, we are all longing to hear the same words: “You are my sweet one.
I see you.
I’m glad you’re here.
Let’s find the rhythm together.”