Moment of Silence

All flags at half-mast! Please bow your heads for a moment of silence... the Man in Black has gone home to his own personal Jesus.

Also, John Ritter (of Three's Company fame) has also passed away at a ripe, young age with a hot new sitcom on his plate. Guess you never know what life's going to throw at you. It's a sad day in Tennesse.

Make today count~no one knows what tomorrow will hold.

posted by me 9:27 AM

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

It has been brought to my attention that this blog has fallen on less-than-gracious eyes. People who don't realize that blogs were created as an outlet to vent opinions and spew idiosyncrasies. People who have apparently never sinned in their lives. People who supposedly care about me, but not enough to confront me face to face.

I write knowing that my mother could read each entry and I write in vulnerability. I understand that by placing these thoughts on the internet I am opening them up to subjection and interpretation. Therefore I have included a Comment section in order to provide an open forum for such criticisms and/or encouragements. Given thus, I would appreciate open online commentary (come on, I'm even giving you an easy out) if you can not or would rather not discuss it face to face.

Instead, I have been met with grapevines and whispers. I am not hurt that you read my blog. I am not hurt if you disapprove~ if I set my standards to yours, my life would be riddled with imperfect, inconsistent, inconceivable expectations. Rather you have hurt me by deciding to talk about me behind my back. I gave you trust and you paid me back in rumor-mongering. I don't expect you to wipe away the tears of my transgressions and teach me despite my stubbornness~ I've never knelt before you, riddled with pain and agony and asked you for grace and mercy to make me whole-- and I wouldn't, because you can't. Don't ask me to be perfect, because I can't; not here, not now, because I have a terminal illness called humanity~ the ailment with which all of creation groans. (yes, that includes you)

I appreciate your concern and I don't mind battling out differing views, but I think we need a time-out. Perhaps we'll come back from our respective corners (bring your debates and I'll bring mine) to a more respectable (above the belt) bout.

"Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." ~Jesus, John 8:7 ESV (you can even battle me about why I should use King James)

posted by me 3:39 PM

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Sagacity

Trent Reznor may have written it, but great gravity exudes from every note and rest of Johnny Cash's version of Hurt. At first, the quake in his voice might seem to signify deteriorating vocal chords, a weakness that comes with old age; but listen closer. Every tremor gives a sense of experience; of life-long reflection; of years upon years of rough epidermal tissue, accumulating like the bark of a tree-- building girth and strength. His roots and trunk run sturdy and deep, obstinate to the changing world; while his outermost limbs have been whipped and whittled by the wind into switches, pliable enough to sting in foul weather. His face is set as a stone embankment eroded and crevassed by centuries of lunar driven tides.

I often wonder what I'll look back on when I'm older. What I'll have learned, what I'll wish I could have changed, if only I knew now, or better yet, last week or last year. That's one reason why I don't mind sitting in on our Board of Directors meetings. I enjoy hearing how experience has taught these people to handle situations in hopes to siphon some of their hard-earned sagacity to infuse with my youthful energy and naiveté. Perhaps they'll let slip the recipe to a tonic that will sooth and enrich the whirlwind years between rocking-the-night-away and rocking-on-the-porch. I see their care-worn faces as they churn information intently before finally speaking their minds.

I want depth in my eyes, great gravity in my joy as well as sorrow and the ability to appreciate long pauses in conversations while the participants mull it over, while I mull it over-- savoring every morsel, carefully choosing every consonant and vowel, caressing them, preparing them to slide ever so melodically from my lips. I want to start absorbing these abilities now, drawing from the surrounding wells of knowledge with which I have been blessed. I don't want to look back at "what if" or "if only." It's like an Italian saying a friend of mine told me that translates to something like: If the young new and the old could. I could use some pruning and thicker bark for the winter. Let's start with the low tide and work our way up to high. I'm finally ready for the growing pains; finally open to learning. I want to know while I can.

posted by me 3:51 PM

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Syndicated Life

I ran across an old box of letters
While I was baggin up some clothes for Goodwill
You know I had to laugh that the same old struggles
That plagued me then are plaguing me still ~Caedmon's Call

Have you ever wondered what the deal is with the whole Syndicated Life title? It's pretty much what the lyrics above are talking about. I don't feel like my life is an Emmy winning sit-com, I feel like it's a TBS 80s sit-com running in syndication-- you know, the ones that don't even run in order, one day will show a season 1 "to be continued" episode and the next will be the second to last episode in season 5. I was working on a song Saturday night that I actually began three years ago this fall and have shelved for the last couple of years. When I wrote it, my best friends' responses were: Are you ok?
I'm ok. You know what? I'm just still learning the same things, still the same cat and mouse game, except I'm the cat and the mouse. Here's an episode from Season 21, currently re-airing:

Before You

Fumbling through the trials of this world. Set my own pace, race ahead of You.
When I trip and I fall, I cry out in vain. Pride broke the gifts I took from Your hands.

Bathe me in Your power and fire. Burn away the darkness, make my heart clean
Take my desires, leave only what's pure. I long to be holy before You.

Hold me close so the waves won't throw me. My faith's been shaken like leaves in the trees.
Help me be still and know You are God. Make me pure, Lord, in mind, heart and soul.

Bathe me in Your power and fire. Burn away the darkness, make my heart clean.
Take my desires, leave only what's pure. I long to be holy before You.

My words have betrayed my faith. My actions prove my foolishness before You.
Bring a coal to my lips. Fill me with Your flame. Light Your torch and sear my soul.

Bathe me in Your power and fire. Burn away the darkness, make my heart clean.
Take my desires, leave only what's pure. I long to be holy...
I long to be- before You.

~Barley & Me Music 2000

My best hope is that there remains at least a spark of longing left to be fanned~ yet even were I drenched with my own pride and selfishness, You could ignite a blazing, raging flame within me and that is both what allows me to sleep and keeps me awake all night long.

posted by me 11:07 AM

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Settlers

This evening I have set aside time to work on my music. Not because I have a great inspiration, but more because I have nothing else to do and am going numb looking at the TV screen (even though the V-chip is protecting my innocence~Thanks to my former professor, Prof. Cantor, who lead the research and crusade for the V-Chip installation). Right. Anyway... I'm supposed to be working on my music right now, as I type. Why then, you may ask, am I rambling into my qwerty rather than sitting in a field with my Martin? Because my friends, I am a settler.

No, I didn't land on Plymouth Rock, and no, it didn't land on me. What I'm trying to say is that I have high hopes and aspirations and minimal motivation. I asked a friend once if he ever felt like a "Jack of all trades, Master of none." His response was, "No, I'm not a cliche." I think I might be. I might be settling for being a cliche; a statistic; a nameless, faceless number in the matrix. I suppose that's because things just tend to "happen" to me-- grades came easily, and I could do most anything I set my mind to (however, I also knew what I couldn't do and therefore just didn't set my mind to it). But the best things in my life have happened on a whim; on a crazy, random chance or fluke.

It's not that I don't try for things. It's just that usually when I do try to take matters into my own hands, I make a royal mess. Perhaps, then, I am being less "safe" and more wise by sitting back and letting the tapestry of life weave itself (or unravel, as the case may be) knowing that the pattern has already been placed, and I just can't see it. I have a hard time discerning what my role is and how active I should be vs. how much I should sit back and wait. Perhaps I should think of it like being led blindfolded through a maze by the mere echo of the intangible voice of one who has gone before me to determine and clear the way. It's not my job to make the maze or find the correct passage, my role is to listen for the voice and put one foot in front of the other to get there. So, I can't be settling if the path is already determined, right? I just know there's something great out there in store for me~ yet I have this sneaking suspicion I'll have to wait until this world is behind me to find it. For now I'll just have to use my waiting time and the resources left to me wisely.

posted by me 6:06 PM

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Last Night's Journal Entry (unedited)

Some nights are great for staying in. Some nights I can't wait to go out. Tonight all I wanted to do was stay out.

Not out partying or painting the town red, just outside. How can you not be outside when the cool air draws warmth from the steaming pavement? I laid down on the black top of the small, empty parking lot across the the street from my apartment and gazed up at the blue-black sky, flecked here and there by pale orange orbs of light. I looked at the stars and the clouds int he sky and at the enormous tree overhead whose girth suggests centuries of experience; whose boughs exude strength even when its leaves are replaced by 9 inches of unexpected winter snow-- a cold, wet, heavy wrath.

And I listened. I listened to the millions of bugs with their cacophanous chirrups and creets and brrbrrs dotted with buzzing and droning. Droning insects in hives and hills, droning cars on the nearby highways and overpasses and near-but-far planes descending and ascending through the smoky mists of clouds. And I wanted to lay there all night, soaking up every last bit of haet and energy from the earth and sky, leaving all else cold and despondent.

I closed my eyes, listening, feeling, smelling. Smelling the clean air, the cool breeze, the fresh cut grass five feet away. My senses could have carried me off into dreams-- sweet dreams. But then a high school kid pulled into the parking lot and almost ran me over. That kind of killed the mood. I guess I'll have to settle for open windows tonight, soft cotton sheets against my skin and Adam Duritz crooning me to sleep, drowning out the drone of the fan, the insectral orchestra and the not so distant highway. And from here I will drift off to dreams-- sweet or otherwise.

posted by me 8:37 AM

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Dear Friends,

Today I am feeling quiet and sub-par, so I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes from The Chronicles of Narnia: “He knew why they were laughing and joined in the laugh himself. But very quickly they all became grave again: for, as you know, there is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious. It is too good to waste on jokes.”

I believe this kind of happiness and wonder exists, even when there is an opposing dread and fear vying for the ultimate saturation of your soul. Cling to the reality of hope, friends, and hope for the gravity of joy.

~Melissa

posted by me 9:52 AM

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