My Briefs - What A Week!

I'm feeling completely overwhelmed by joy. It's been a remarkable week. One of my most favorite things in the world is seeing Drum Corps competing live. MTSU hosts a big one every summer. I went last night. After my scheduled corps-compadre cancelled, I decided I could go alone. I got a bit lost trying to find the place, and arrived late at exactly the same time as John, a perfect stranger whose wife let him have the night off to go to his first Corps show in 20 years because it was his birthday, of all things. A self-professed band geek (like myself), and ahem...Trekkie (not that there's anything wrong with that), John became the perfect companion for this awesome night. I was reminded of the power that excellence and creativity have to bring 20,000 people to their feet. I sat in awe as I watched marching and heard playing that both seemed un-human, constantly picturing the hundreds of hours these sun-bronzed, disciplined kids have spent on blazing hot practice fields, working their skills to perfection. Made me feel old and a little lazy, but off-the-chart psyched up to keep aiming for excellence, and to find new, creative ways of expressing myself that will inspire others to come more fully alive. Happy Birthday, John! Your presence was a gift to me last night. You would've been a great Scout.

Sheryl Crow Thursday night at the Sommet Center was incredible as well. She's hot and confident, and about as prolific of a songwriter as they come. Quite a remarkable voice, too. Wednesday night with Eric, and Monday with Josh D. were killer. And Tuesday was a huge day for working the plow in the field of forgiveness. My heart is tender.

I'm also blown away by the great work my friend Christopher Davis did producing "Precious Memories" for me - the first song I've recorded that I've written both the music and lyrics. It's on my myspace page and will appear in the film "Clancy" being produced by Kelly's Filmworks out of Louisville. What an honor. "Superfamous" will also be appearing the film "Fraternity House," but that's a whole other kind of honor. One that smells more like beer.

Ah, the sweet dichotomy of my life.

My Promised Land

I would never call myself a scholar per se, on anything, except maybe pop music in the 80s. But I do find it interesting in the Old Testament where Moses leads the stubborn, incredibly cynical Israelites through the desert for 40 years. Seriously? 40 years is a crazy long time to be on a journey toward something you can’t see.

Turns out they were promised a kind of freedom, a land where they could be free from the tyranny they had lived under in Israel, a land flowing with milk and honey. Show me a land flowing with steak and ice cream, and I might journey toward it myself, but if I'm gone a week with no sign of nothing meaty or creamy, I'm out of there.

These Israelites, as much as they complained, must have had incredible determination and persistence to stay on the course. Still, I would've become tired, distracted, resentful. I would have to be reminded over and over exactly why we were doing this whole "wandering through the desert" thing. Probably several times each day.

I imagine having thoughts like: "Hey Moses, you sure you know where you're taking us?" "Now, why exactly are we doing this?" or "This land here looks pretty good. I think I can smell honey."

Why did God feel like he needed these people to not reach their Promised Land for such a long period of time? Why did so many people have to die along the way, never seeing the end of their journey? Should they have stayed home if they would've known how things would end up for them?

To me, this is an incredible story about not giving up, even when all signs are pointing for you to find the nearest exit.

This is what my time in Nashville has been like. There have unquestionably been awesome times of joy and significance. Relationships I have made which are rooted in tremendous joy and love. But, as you can imagine, there are also times of incredible drought and solitude. Times of extremely hard work and painful emotional suffering. Times I wonder if this road I'm on is actually going anywhere.

The best answer I can give myself to the question of where is all this wandering taking me? Where I'm Supposed to Be. Many days I feel like I'm going nowhere. And the quietness of the present feels like emptiness, more than freedom. But when I'm in my right mind, and resting in the love surrounding and within me, I'm convinced that even today, no matter how I feel or how bleak things look, I'm where I'm supposed to be. And that the place I'm heading is also exactly where I'm supposed to be, and chances are, it won't look anything like I had thought it would.

One of my favorite people, Anne Lamott, suggested that God let the Israelites wander for so long so they would have a chance to redefine what they thought their Promised Land should look like. To me, it looks like they had to be stripped of all their expectations, they had to struggle, they had to watch their loved ones die, they had to be hungry and thirsty and tired, they had to be chased through the desert and the sea by ferocious enemies, they had to be blinded to their destination, all so they would better see how truly incapable they are of creating their own Promised Land, and how being able to receive the most beautiful gifts can only happen with completely empty hands.

I wish I could sit around a campfire one night with some of those Israelites. Especially some of the older ones, and hear what they might say to some of the younger ones, perhaps that had been born only after the journey started. I'd like to hear the stories, not of the Red Sea parting, or the fire cloud leading them, but of the silent times. The times when they wanted to give up. When they were convinced they were on a hopeless mission. And the times when they did give up, but a friend came alongside and kicked them in the butt to get them to keep walking. I want to hear what it was like to be told to follow Moses, and then be convinced he was crazy. I want to be told that while they know there's a land out there they've been promised, that the stuff of real life, like meaning and significance and love, happens here in the desert, sitting around the campfire, laughing and telling stories. And carrying each other when you just can't take another step.

Enjoy!

I always chuckle a little when someone drops off our plates of food at a restaurant. How as they walk off, with forced quasi-hospitality, they offer the one word of direction anyone needs while staring at a plate full of food with an empty stomach: "Enjoy!" Oh...OK! I will do that! I will enjoy this food! Thank you for the reminder. People never talk like this in real life. These people continually get away with it.

But the directive I received when leaving a restaurant last week topped that. As we left Saltgrass, the host holding the door said, "Hope you enjoy everything!" As if he's directing us to enjoy everything that happens from here on out. Once you leave the premises, please make every effort to enjoy what happens. Perhaps he meant to say "Hope you enjoyed everything..." but I like to believe this host holds the secret to life I've been longing to find. You know what, just enjoy everything. Don't analyze everything, or try figure out why you do what you do, or why someone you care about doesn't do what you think they should do, don't stress, don't worry, don't freak out about stuff that's completely out of your hands. Just enjoy everything.

Why yes, Mr. Saltgrass Host with a ponytail, I will. I will enjoy everything. Thanks for the tip.

Wannabe - Book Excerpt

The first time I ever played any of my songs for a Nashville decision maker was at a big publisher’s office, shortly after moving to Nashville. Cindy was super nice, and I felt like she really wanted to be helpful. I played my most personal song for her, “Turn My Eyes Upon You.”

“This one’s too personal.” She said too matter of factly.
“Oh really?” I thought that was a good thing. Obviously I was ignorant to the ways of real songwriters. “That was my goal with that one. You know, to be personal. Don’t you think too many artists sing songs that don’t mean anything at all?”
“That doesn’t matter.” The clock was ticking.

She explained how as a publisher she was looking for songs she could pitch to other artists to record, and how they need to be able to make the songs sound like their own.

“Like you could change the line, If you see a smile on my face, it’s not that everything is going just fine to When I see the smile on your face, I know it’s not blah, blah, blah….” I couldn’t hear anything more. This was my incredible song that she was altering. People back home in Minnesota liked my song. Are they dumb? I didn’t think so.

I wish I could go back in time and have coffee with that Mark, just after that meeting.

“So, how did it go?” Mature Mark would ask.
“She hated me.” I’d respond.
“Oh really. What exactly made you feel like she hated you?”
“She said my songs were stupid. And too personal.” I think I’m starting to sound like a 13-year-old girl at this point.
“What had you hoped she would do for you?”

Silence. I had no frame of reference. I had no idea what to expect, except opens doors of opportunity and lots of pats on the back.

“I hoped she’d like me and want to help me.”
“And see your overwhelming potential drenched in brilliance?”
“Exactly.” I’d high-five myself.
“Well, I can see it.”
“Thanks, me.” I’d reply, awww-shucking.
“Let me give you a little secret.”
“I’m all ears.” I have nowhere to be, so what’s a little free advice from the future going to hurt me?
“Some of these people, these decision-makers, these gate-keepers, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“That’s exactly what I thought!”
“But…”
“Of course, there’s a but.”
“But, they are still the decision-makers. So it becomes your responsibility to make it as simple as possible for them to make the decisions you want them to make.”
I chuckle. “Right. How am I supposed to do that?”
“Don’t be offended by this. But you can do this best by being excellent.”
“Excellent?” I’m not getting anywhere with myself.
“How long have you been a songwriter?”
“Um. About a year.”
“So do you think that in a year you have developed to the level of excellence as a songwriter that you can walk into a publisher’s office in one of the largest music cities in the world, and expect them to roll out the red carpet?”

I took that one right in the kisser.

“You need to work on your songwriting. If you want to be a published songwriter you have to learn how to write songs that publishers are looking for. Today sounds like it was a great first lesson.”
“You’re right.” I’d say, swallowing hard.
“You can’t move to Italy and expect to speak Italian right away. It’s going to take time and a lot of work. Don’t waste your time fretting over how people don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Learn the dang language. Be patient with the dance. You thought you’d move here and find someone who would tell you you’re a great dancer. But in fact, you moved here to learn how to dance. In time, you’ll be dancing like no one else. And people will pay money to watch. And they’ll be trying to learn how to dance like you.”
“Okay, that’s just weird. Are you telling me I’m not a dancer?”
“Not yet. But don’t give up. No matter how ready you think you are to be on stage."

My Declaration of Independence

I'm now officially free to let other people respond to me the way they want to, and it doesn't need to affect how I feel about myself. I'm free to let other people love me in their own way, in their own time, without me taking anything personally. I'm free to let myself make mistakes in the ways that I communicate my feelings, because I am free to be misunderstood. I am free to not be liked by everyone around me. I'm free to allow the love of God and those who know me well, actually be enough to get me through today. I'm free to not be entangled by the quest for acceptance from strangers, no matter how good looking they might be. I'm free to be optimistic about the future, even if my present circumstances appear stagnant, knowing that the only thing that's certain in life is change. Still, I'm free to not be ruled by the allure of "what might happen" in the future, because I am choosing to focus on the beauty of the present. I'm free to be surprised by what might come my way, because I'm entering into today without any expectations.

This is my declaration of independence.

A Couple Thoughts...

Here are some things I've been thinking about.
1) Baseball. What an unbelievable game. I love how one person from the offense goes up against the whole defense. It's a complex, individualistic team sport filled with guys who seem to just dig hanging out with their buddies while they travel the road for half a year. I wish the season had a quarter of the games they play so each game would count more. Currently, it's a bit like a marathon where teams have to pace themselves for a hopefully big finish six months down the road.
2) Ambition. Tricky proposition. I believe it's probably easier not having dreams and goals. Yet, it's hard to imagine walking around with your bow and arrow cocked but with nothing to shoot at.
3) Friendship. I can't imagine not having someone to reflect back to me who I truly am, my worth, my value, my mistakes, my weaknesses. On my own, I can paint a self-portrait that looks a lot more like what I'm attracted to, or what I'm repulsed by (depending on the day), than who I really am.
4) God. It appears that ultimately he's going to do whatever he wants. And usually that's better than what I could've scripted. More nuanced, more beautiful, more redemptive.

Friday Night at the Prison

Had a great night at the prison. I wanted to throw the guys a party, you know, cause no one else ever does. So I loaded up the truck with food from Costco - shrimp, deli wraps, fireballs, olives, apple pie, ice cream - the essentials... and invited the incredibly talented Nashville Soul Choir to provide the musical entertainment. I love them! My buddies, the gym worker guys, had set up the gym so nice and helped serve all the food and run the sound. I spoke on how to live a life that defies expectations. It was so exciting to see their faces light up when they got a taste of hope for perhaps the first time.

I told them why I do this:
1) To make me look good.
2) To make them feel good.
3) To make God look good.

Here's an article I wrote about how I got into prison ministry in the first place: Part One & Part Two