Guts

The common and inspirational quote "It's about the journey, not the destination" never rang as brightly or as true to my ears as it has to others.

"The moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else."

-Martina Navratilova

Immediately, this made me think of music. A quick, yet intensely satisfying moment of gratification, that despite its greatness, dwindles and fades like anything else.

Well if its not about the destination, the victory, then what is it about? And why do I keep going when I have such a blurry foresight as to where I'll end up? I'm convinced the journey must have more substance than we credit it with, and we must realize and appreciate that substance sooner than in hindsight. Otherwise we just live blip to blip, like red pins on a big map.

What does Martina's quote make you think of? What do you think about the substance of your journey and its destination(s)?

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

The version by Casting Crowns has been claimed "favorite Christmas song this year" by mother--I think I'll agree and make it mine too. Spend the 99 cents and buy this song.

Here are the words to the original poem by Henry W. Longfellow:

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along the unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Till ringing, singing on its way

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head

"There is no peace on earth," I said,

"For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on earth, good will to men."

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound the carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent

And made forlorn, the households born

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Comforting yet irksome; beautiful indeed. Merry Christmas!

A Little Grinchy

I was shopping in JC Penny's last night looking for gifts for the family when I came across a series of bracelets engraved with sentimental phrases: "daughter, if you were a flower I'd still pick you"; "sisters begin as siblings and end as friends", blah blah blah. Just as I was about to choke on all the syrup, I saw this dumb message on a bracelet for mom: "God couldn't be everywhere, so he created mothers".

Apparently this sang has been around for a while, which seems rather stupid to me. Wouldn't mom would be a lot harder to find if she could be everywhere like God can (or can't, in this case)?

(insert rhetoric and sarcasm at your own discretion)

Merry Christmas!

Nostalgia... but better.

I wrote this entry back in September when I played a concert of John Williams Music. Figured I should document the chicken scratch before I lose it, or spill something on it...

In this concert, I've had several emotional reactions to the music, or to the memory of when it was first heard. There have been three times when performing, that a specific musical moment (in Star Wars and Harry Potter) has caused an internal pull, like someone's grabbed my insides and twisted (to steal a line from Rowling)--A swelling in my throat that teases tears. Why is there such a reaction to this "commercial music"-- it always has such a negative connotation, but it's quite good. It has an emotional substance that is magnified by the memory of its early hearing. The personal connection I've had with the Stars Wars films, the Harry Potter books, and, though not as magical, the subsequent films is one that was made in my childhood. This hindsight is bitter sweet.

Sweet in the innocence and happiness of childhood--truly wishing to be a Luke or Harry. This is one of the most impressive type of art, perhaps the most pure: to change completely one's sense of reality, where we may forget (though temporarily) our obligations to a hungry society. How great that these stories were fabricated and brought to life by humans that at one point harbored our same potential energy.

Bitter because we are eventually brought back to the very real truth that:

1) We can't live the life that as a child we fantasized was possible, and

2) we can no longer live as freely and without care as we did in youth (though perhaps it didn't seem that way then).

Sweet again. Our big troubles then, don't seem so now. Which means, our big troubles now won't seem so soon enough.

Choices

One of my favorite things about music is that it can teach us about life.

A few weeks ago, I took a lesson with a great drum set player named Frank Rosaly. We talked about developing a drum solo (four bars, or indefinitely extended). He told me that he almost always takes at least two beats of silence to let some type of music come to him. This allows the music and your creative instinct to breathe. He then talked about the choices we make as soloists.

In a setting of improvisation, the improviser makes choices (and sacrifices) all the time, consciously and unconsciously. The improviser decides to play something comfortable, or loud, or soft, or out of the box, or a lick, or something new that they've never done before. Sometimes the result of the choice fails miserably, sometimes it works wonderfully. Its success or failure doesn't have to be dependent on its aesthetic appeal to the player/audience, or its ability to teach us something. He said he's seen some pretty beautiful failures, it was greatly artistic because of the choices they made, even if they didn't work. If the improviser makes choices all the time, why not make some consciously and without fear--but with expectancy, and understanding of the possibility--of failure? The music will go on regardless of success or failure (which is too often defined by public's opinion, as opposed to personal best) because you chose for it to do so.

"Our doubts are traitors, / and make us lose the good we might oft win / By fearing to attempt." --Shakespeare

What parallels do you find with this and your life?

Thoughts on Prayer

^"7And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. ⁸Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him."

(NIV)

Why do we pray?

1) We're supposed to. Church and the bible say so.

2) It helps us work out our thoughts; we mentally organize (on a personal level) and we discover, or are enlightened or nudged (from the divine).

3) It's good for the people we pray for.

4) Why not? Ask and you shall receive (Mark 11:24).

Humans developed language as a way to organize our thoughts and emotions, and as a way to share them with others. According to the text in Matthew, we don't need human language to communicate with God--He doesn't need our self made form of communication to understand what we need; He knows before we take the stuff of our souls and organize it into a languaged thought or word. So why do we pray out loud in church? Why do we pray in large groups? Why do people feel empowered by this? Is this the power of prayer? If He knows what we need before we ask, why do we pray at all?

Prayer in this ask and receive (or not) manner, seems one dimensional to me; God must be more.

Dear God, please help Jimmy get better. Amen.

If the Father knows what we need before we ask Him, do we need to say anything to God--or do we need to listen? Hopefully our praying doesn't turn into a to do/wish list, on a personal or selfless and communal level; a conversation that is heavily one sided.

How do you pray? What forms of prayer work well for you?

Kittens and Coke Zero. . . Miracles?

During the prayer requests and praise reports section of the church service, an elderly lady stood from her pew and professed how she had seen God's work in her life during the week. The story was long winded, but as it turns out, she's a cat lady. Her and her husband, having no children living in the house anymore, have taken to the company of cats. Well, one of her cats (or two, or three. . . I may have drifted off) died recently, leaving her and her husband quite sad, maybe even devastated. 

She prefaced this story with a disclaimer: "I know in the scope of all the troubles in the world, this doesn't rate very high, but it was big to us." Oh great, I thought. Here we go. . . 

Since all of their cats were getting older, they decided that when the cats died, they would not invest (emotionally, financially, spiritually) in raising new ones. Shortly after the most recent cat passed away, they discovered a "perfect kitten," just outside their door. After taking all of the precautionary steps to ensure that it was not a lost kitten belonging to some befuddled owner, they decided it was a gift from God. He acted at just the right time and granted them this perfect animal (no really--its hair, personality, coloring, all perfect). 

This story angered me a little bit. And I'm not sure why. But I found myself becoming defensive of a God I was certain did not act this way. What she was describing sounded like a miracle. A perfect kitten with no previous owners, presented from the divine? CS Lewis explains that miracles occur when God intervenes in life to cause something unexplainable to happen. Very rarely, due miracles occur. I agree, in that we deem too many things miracles. Just because we cannot explain how or why something occurs does not mean God is working a miracle. 

In the grand scheme of things, it seems goofy for God to work a miracle by giving an old lady a kitten. Assuming that He did indeed give her a kitten; I wonder if she'd think it was from God if it's unexplainable appearance was suddenly explained by a 6 year old girl turning up, looking for her lost kitty. 

Well, maybe it's not from God then; then again, maybe it is. 

Who am I to say? I was offended by her seeming understanding of how God works, but why? Because she thinks he works in different ways than I think he does. Regardless, I'm just as wrong.

On the plane ride back, I bought a Coke Zero in Atlanta. After taking several gulps I stowed it into the side pocket of my bag as they called us to board the plane. Having awkwardly scooted to my window seat, I lazily dropped my bag and kicked it under the seat. 30 seconds later, of course, I was ready for another drink. Pulling up my bag I discovered that the side of the bottle was wet. So was the side pocket, and so was the carpet under the seat in front of me. I almost laughed out loud; it was a miracle! Had I not been thirsty at that very moment, I may have allowed my delicious Coke Zero to seep through my side pocket and permeate the fibers of the carpet. After saturating the carpet and underlying material thoroughly, mold and mildew would have set in and in a few weeks, it could have eroded the floor of the plane, maybe even in mid flight at 30,000 feet, resulting in a tragic and catastrophic crash. After this disaster, of course, we would only be able to bring 3 oz sodas on the plane, and they'd have to be in a quart sized plastic bag. 

Excuse my sarcastic hyperbole. What's the difference between the cat lady discovering a brand new kitten on her doorstep and me discovering that my Coke Zero had a leak in it before it leaked too much? They both benefited the individual, and seemed to come at unexplainable or coincidental time. Why can hers be from God and mine can't? Or can it? 

After further consideration of my own thoughts and YOURS, I'd like to post a response in a sort of part two to this blog. Even if you don't have an account with Blogger, you can comment, just leave your name if you please. 

And now, please, what do you think?