Welcome to the Garage

When you come across the word "Supersonic" what immediately comes to mind? Sports cars with jet engines attached? A drive thru Sonic where everyone is on rollerblades? Wait, even better: A drive thru Sonic where you receive your food in one of those cylndrical tubes that you use for bank transactions (Super!).
I just got a job at a place called Supersonic, and it's actually not like that. It's more along the lines of a music shop with a garage type of ambience to it. Perhaps not the place my collegiate colleagues would have voted me most likely to work at, but I find it to be an interesting place. At Supersonic, we sell guitar cables. Loads of them! Some of them are black; some of them are the color or Skittles. The walls of the music shop are choca-block full of musical gear. Everything from harmonica holders to sleek triangular Jackson guitars. We carry drum sticks with shock absorbers in them, and cymbals that are arranged and displayed to look like Chinese Christmas trees.
So if you're in the Topeka area, stop on by Supersonic! Jam a bit; chat a bit, and check out the garage for yourself!

Live Hard

One of the slogans for Lincoln Douglas Debate used to be Talk Hard. I have decided that my new motto for the next while is going to be Live Hard (It is perhaps jumping the gun on a New Year's Resolution, so it is just a goal). The draw back to claiming these two words is that there might be some Hedonistic Rock Star Philosophy associated with it: "Wear out your body, 'cause Baby this is as good as it gets!" But, really, I have different plans for those words and how I want them to motivate me in the weeks to come.
I can relate well to Elijah. After Mount Carmel victories it is in my wiring to lay down and lose vision for what is to come next. I also realize that it is easier to detect the Wilderness Elijah mentality in others, more so than when it is found within myself. For example: Elijah. Elijah would be a good example. :) Another example: A few weeks ago a woman a little past middle age said to me "I don't understand why the Lord has had me live this long." I left that conversation feeling disconcerted. From my viewpoint she had a tremendous amount to live for and should keep truckin' for all she's worth! But it made me wonder afterwards if I had allowed that same kind of thinking to creep into my own head.
A few days after that conversation I drove a Burmese girl named Kaung to the hospital for a post operation check up. Kaung had a hole repaired in her heart, and the Doc wanted to see how things were holding up. Kaung bravely proceeded through the gauntlet of heart tests: EKG, Echocariogram, and X-Rays.
As I sat in the dark room watching Kaung's heart lub-dubbing on the screen, and hearing her father quietly chuckle at the Homeward Bound movie playing in the background, it hit me that life is an incredible gift. There is no guarantee on that next heartbeat.
So I guess that is where my motivation comes from for acquiring a new motto. Even though I don't want to emulate Elijah curled up in the wilderness under a juniper tree, I do want to get a taste of his Mount Horeb experience. To hear the Lord's voice; to be sustained by His food; without carrying loads of baggage with me. To live hard, even during the quieter pauses in life.

Letting Your Hair Down

I played my violin this evening at a nursing home fund raiser. It wasn't because of any altruism on my part or because of the pristine condition of my heart. I played tonight because the lady recruiter was insanely sweet and my mouth was unable to utter a resolute "no" when she asked me.
I chose to play a medley piece that cataclysmically collides three short songs together, and cleverly fills in the gaps with arpeggio structured cadenzas. The piece was simply chosen because I figured it would fullfill my alloted minute quota. My favorite sliver of the repertoire is the last breathtaking 10 bars that unite to bravely form the piece's conclusion. The last section is composed of mad running sixteenth notes, whose sole purpose in their short-lived lives is to propel everything forward. The notes build hyper-tension by picking up tempo as they climb several octaves and push toward the brilliant dynamic of fortissimo (Voila!). The whole piece is built around that finale ending. It careens maniacally forward and then when it cannot soar any higher in that blue cloudless sky it spits out a few notes, as if in afterthought. Kind of like "Here are some double-stop Ds. Take that!" It gives me a head rush to greet those notes and they are usually played with an extra fiesty foot stomp, just for affect. It's all about attitude. No room for timidity here. Risk-taking-anxiety is thrown out the window. It's all about abandonment, really.
It really is all about abandonment. Letting the hair down. Daring the instrument to catch on fire!

...perhaps a bit bewildering for the elderly... next time, maybe, I should play Brahms... or something.

Purge the Closets

I remember reading once about the contents of Abraham Lincoln's pockets found the day he was assassinated. Along with spectacles, a pocket handkerchief and whatnot were nine newspaper clippings favorable to his presidency and his policies. I find it fascinating that a man who has gone down in our history books as being one of the most courageous and greatest American presidents of all time cared about newspaper clippings. It makes sense, though, he was human after all and words of encouragement can do wonders for those battling their way upstream.
After being prompted by the words "Purge the closets" written on the bathroom mirror at my oldest brother's house, I have been inspired to intensively clean out my closets, and have been trying to coax myself to part with what I don't need, or what I predict will not be of much value to me in ten years. Books, letters, CDs and clothes are all at risk of getting their Closet Status changed. As I have been weeding through the random ensemble of articles I wonder what an alien observer would think about the contents of my closets. Would they find it weird that I keep 2 hockey sticks, or would they raise their eyebrows at well intended half started projects? I know you shouldn't get overly zealous with what others think of your closet space, and nobody is on the verge of writing articles about my pocket lint, but it is a reminder to me that if there is anything in there that I'm ashamed of it's time to bag it up and give it to Goodwill. Quality newspaper articles are far better than skeletons.

Thoughts for Chewing and Swallowing

Excerpt from Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman, Oct. 17th

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. Gal. 6:14

"They were people who were living to themselves. Their hopes, promises, and dreams still controlled them, but the Lord began to fulfill their prayers. They had asked for a repentant heart and had surrendered themselves with a willingness to pay any price for it, and He sent them sorrow. They had asked for purity, and He sent them sudden anguish. They had asked for meekness, and He had broken their hearts. They had asked to be dead to the world, and He killed all their living hopes. They had asked to be made like Him, so He placed them in the fire "as a refiner and purifier of silver" (Mal. 3:3), until they could reflect His image. They had asked to help carry His cross, yet when He held it out to them, it cut an tore their hands.
...Yet God strengthened them and protected them, even from themselves. Often, in His mercy He held them up when they otherwise would have slipped and fallen. And even in this life, they knew that all He did was done well. They knew it was good to suffer in this life so they would reign in the one to come; to bear the cross below, to wear a crown above; and to know that not their will but His was done in them and through them."

Andy Mckee- Drifting

This guy is insane!

Robots, Sweet Bats and Fights with Kites

I am back in the U.S. of A. One of the benefits of being home again is that I have more of an opportunity to catch up on cinematic entertainment. Now, I realize that to be a proper movie critic, you need (at least!) a Top Ten list of movies that you are critiquing, and two thumbs. I have two thumbs, but I only have a list of 3 movies. Maybe that will qualify me as...a... blogger who watches movies sometimes.

Wall-e: A brilliant movie put out by Pixar, creatively constructed, and a reminder that EVEN robots like to hold hands [insert shoulder shrug here]. A clear green message behind it (which isn't bad to dwell on for a bit), and a touching scene where many obese people, along with their mega slushies, are jostled to one side of a spaceship. I give it: Two thumbs and a pinkie.

Batman: The Black Knight: Stunning performance by Heath Ledger as the joker; I was effectively weirded out! After watching the movie, and as I was headed down the hall of the theatre, I felt like I received a week's dosage of mass chaos through osmosis. The fighting was also at a consistent level through most of the flick- I wouldn't have minded a few lighter moments so that I could catch my breath, but overall it met my high expectations for the Batman series, and it gets a 9.43672 on my rating scale.

The Kite Runner: An ideal movie if you need to cry, and don't have a good reason to do so. It is raw; contains a redemptive storyline, and isn't afraid to deal with hard topics. It encapsulates a strong message about loyalty, courage, and overall it is a poignant "think movie." Contains a fast forward scene, but I stil give it: three popcorns and a coke.

Needs: And the People Who Own Them

I used to view physical need as something straight forward in its simplicity: Person A needs a coat; Person B has a coat to give away; Person B gives coat to Person A. But I'm starting to think that detecting true need and addressing it is much more complicated than that. There are several Romanian gypsies I have encountered in a suburb of Dublin. When I initially met one on the street, I saw her holding her baby, and I was like "Yeah, I'll give you what change I have to buy food." A few months later I met the same woman on the top floor of a double decker bus, chillin' with other gypsies, and listening to music blaring from speakers connected to an i-pod. The bus trip stongly left me with the impression that I was a dupe. I don't have an i-pod. Who knew gypsies could afford them?! Something else I've been thinking about occurs at the soup kitchen I work at. Why is it that the homeless men (and some women) who seem to have the most need take less than the ones that look like they are not as bad off? It seems like it should be the other way around. Do you get less greedy the longer you're on the street, or do you just become more street wise and know where to get what you need to survive? Working with travellers has also got me thinking about neediness. I've had some travellers grab bags of clothes and bread before I had my arms fully extended to give them away. Sometimes I see some of the contents of the bags left in the street after the bags have been rummaged through. Do you still give when what you are giving isn't really appreciated, or maybe not even what the person wanted in the first place? And do you always give when you know you won't get a Thanks? The warning about casting pearls before swine (Matt. 7:6) occasionally comes to mind. And can you spread yourself too thin, trying to give too much so that in the end you're not helping anybody?
Well, maybe the fog will clear for me on this issue. In the meantime, I will be grateful that I'm not a Doctor who has to decide who gets the only donor kidney available. I guess I'll just have to give what I got, in the smartest way possible, and leave the details to the One who knows everything.

French Impressions

Paris was once described to me as the ultimate de je vue experience. There is so much we know about the city from movies and other forms of media that if we set foot in the place, hypothetically, it should feel like we have been there before. Mid-June I put my Pepe Le Pew Loony Tunes knowledge to the test, and went to see if my pre-concieved notions of Paris were accurate. Naturally, I found some were very close, and some were not.
The ones that were not: Strawberry Parfait was supposed to be more common in Paris than snotty-nosed kids at play school, or so I thought. But I did not find an abundance of this ice cream dish during my exploration. The lack of beret wearing was a bit disappointing as well, the only people wearing berets were clearly tourists, and not some avande garde artists smoking cigars.
The things that were: The Eiffel tower was more than I expected. I don't think I would readily spend several hours queing for my turn to get to the top of the tower again, but I was impressed by the beauty of the tower's architecture, and the view of the city from the top was breathtaking. The Louvre was amazing as well, and it made me happy to walk through a sliver of it.
Something I had no pre-concieved notions about, and that made an impression on me was the Metro, Paris' underground transportaion system. I found it all to be a bit surreal- the weak ultraviolet lights doing little to cheer up the grey tone in the belly of the subway train. The greasy poles that you have to hang onto to maintain your balance (and to keep you from falling over and taking out all the people in front of you), and the smell around you, which is a mixture of the smell of perfume and people whose daily hygene ritual doesn't always necessarily include showering.

The Sun Runs Its Course

Last week I witnessed a stunning sunset from my perch on a hill overlooking Benone, Northern Ireland. I think sunsets are proof of God's loving-kindness. I mean, He could have made darkness come to us at night like He flipped off a light switch, but He didn't. Instead He gives us fair warning everyday that is's going to get dark. And He could have chose to make the sun dim down like one of those chandelier living room lights, you know the one with the roundy kind of knob on the wall, but again, He didn't. Instead, He usually accompanies the sunset with radiance of color, phenomenal clouds, astounding variations of shade, and the shifting of shadow. I suppose He could have also reserved sunsets for the days when we really pleased Him, where we gave our 100% for Him and sacrificially and altruistically gave of ourselves to others, but He didn't do that either. He provides sunsets on the days that we failed Him, played the harlot and forgot Him, over-stuffed our egos, and revealed the miniscule quantity of love that we actually possess. He gives us sunsets everyday. He is a kind God. He loves us.

Packin' the Dayz

It is amazing to me how much one week can contain. I feel like a month was tightly rolled and squeezed into the last few days. Last week's occupation was counseling for a girls camp. Many of these hoody clad females were between the ages of 8 and 10, and were bused in from inner city Dublin. At the end of the week, having looked around at the other bleary eyed leaders, I can safely assess that I wasn't alone in my a-week-is-a-month feeling.
Several things happened that I still don't fully understand. I don't understand how one little girl can go so rapidly from smudging out my name on a banner Sunday night, to giving me sweet cards with red crayoned hearts on them Thursday night. I don't understand why a girl would refuse to touch a dirty (but scraped) plate, when her hands are immersed in hot soapy water. I don't understand how so many girls can be friends one minute, and so violently at each other's throats the next. But that's okay. I suppose those are the type of things that puzzle you when you are in rehash mode.
There are several things that I do understand about the week, and they tend to make me smile. It makes me smile to think about the little girl who was so grateful for learning how to swim on Wednesday, and it makes me smile when I think about getting to teach the girls from my tent a few new songs. It also makes me smile when I think of the two girls that gave their life to Christ towards the end of the week. I think those are the things that make packed days worth it, and it is where I need to choose to let my thoughts rest.

Boogie Bogging among the Blogs

Most people, perhaps, would think of a blog as a digital space for the display of noble and mundane thoughts for bored people to read. Others might view it as a launching pad for discussion, or would simply use it as a place to list their Top 10 favorite BBQ Sauces. But little do they know about the Blogs of Wicklow Co., Ireland. Smelly, hairy creatures, who lurk in the the mossy ivy-shrouded forests. Forests that are hedged in by thick scraggly vines and prickly plants that draw blood to the careless explorer. It is here in the forest, near swampy waters filled with lethal looking eels and ill-looking frogs, that the Blogs live. Not many people have ever seen the Blogs, because they only come out at night... and they have red eyes... and sharp teeth... and they like to feed on [insert shrill scream in the background]... popcorn. Blogs love popcorn! And they have horrible episodes of insomnia which makes it difficult for them to sleep. Thus, the red eyes! If you would like to help the Blogs battle their insomniac tendencies, and assist the medical world in finding a cure, please post your check to...
I'll stop there. :0)
Just had to write something random for my first post.