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.