Back to School

I'm taking a course in Creative Fiction Writing.

That line took a lot of courage to write.

I like to write, but commenting on music, books, movies, family, politics, travel and the like is quite safe. Facts are easy and opinions about ephemeral or concrete things are - for the most part - innocuous enough. A little humor. A little "life observation". Some encouragement to try out a song, or a new food, or to see a place of interest - easy and safe. People can take it ot leave it. Not really a big deal.

Fiction should be safer - but it isn't.

My fiction isn't safe because it is so close to me. It is so close to my core. It feels quite personal and when others read it I feel very exposed. Some writers call their stories their "children". I think some of my stories may be my "demons". And because it's personal I want it to find someone who likes it and appreciates it because when they do I will know it is safe in their arms. Or being dealt with in their hearts. But rejection - that would be the worst.

Still, here it is. I'm in a group every week, and I need to engage to at least get my $160 worth out of it. So I'm writing a short story - although I turned it into a screenplay for a two and a half hour movie driving back from class on Wednesday. I do tend to get ahead of myself.

What have I learned so far?
I need to focus. I am learning to think the whole process through much more. To look at what is happening on the page from new perspectives. This is helpful.

I think I can demonstrate. This was my first opening line:

"Everyone thought it was strange - except for Piper."

I thought I had the hook there but no, not really.

This is the new opening line - and it may not survive, but I think I'm going in the right direction:

"The morning assaulted Piper."

Same story, but I think the second line is better at drawing the reader in. I am learning to write to help the reader enter the story more easily and more fully.

Not safe - to be so exposed.

Worth it - I pray.

Shalom

Grandpa Stuff

We traveled today to see our grandkids and their parents (of course). Well, two out of three anyway. Damian and his little sister, Rowynne live in one city and their cousin, Colson lives with hsi parents in another.
When I was small we traveled to see family all of the time. Every four years was the trip to Ontario to see my mother's parents and her sister and her family. On an alternating four year schedule folks from Ontario would come to see us - so every 2 years we saw cousins, an aunt and uncle and grandparents.
my father's family was in Alberta, but much less organized. We saw them more, but it felt like it was almost by chance. At the very least, when things were convenient and schedules aligned we saw my dad's much bigger family.
It always intrigued me how we seemed to feel closer to the Ontario arm of the family as opposed to the Alberta clan. I think it had something to do with the intentionality of our visits. We could see the Munro clan almost anytime - but we didn't. It was hard to see the James clan, but we made the effort.
Susie and I made the effort today, and our son and daughter-in-law and their kids were really excited to see us. Well, OK, I have to admit that Rowynne still plays shy with me in person. She blows me kisses and fist bumps me online when we Skype, but she is much more demure in the flesh.
But we are being intentional. And that is the point, I think, To make sacrifices. To travel. To sleep in strange beds.To gather oneself up and go.
I am often challenged in keeping my relationships fresh and vibrant - my relationship with the Lord most of all. It shouldn't be hard. He is here always. I am a word away. A click of my phone to "off". A closing of my laptop. Turning off the TV and stereo and He is there all at once. And, so often, I ignore the availability and ease of keeping that relationship close, vibrant and rich.
I'll drive across the province or across the country to see my grandkids. Lord help me! So often I won't go to my knees to be with you.

Shalom

Audio Nerdvana

So after a long hiatus I am back and live on the internets.
I will not close this blog ever again, because if what I comment on here is reason for people to try to do me real harm, then "bring it".

So I'm on vacation and I'm geeking out over some new audio gear. The two photos are of the system - pre-upgrade - and I'll post new pics as soon as the new speakers arrive. Some folks have guns. Some folks have planes, trains and automobiles. Some have boats. Some do art. I do audio/video/music/movies and tech.

Anyway, last night I was rediscovering some of my music through a pair of speakers I'm demoing and I discovered a hidden psychedelic gem of a tune by John Hiatt. It's called "Further Stars" and it's from his 2001 album "The Tiki Bar is Open" .

It's not what you'd expect from John if you know any of his hits like "Drive South", "Have a Little Faith in Me", or "Thing Called Love".

I recommend it highly. This live video doesn't do the studio version justice, but maybe you'll be intrigued.

While we're on the subject of unexpected sounds, Pentatonix, the 21st Century Acapella quintet Supreme, covered Gotye's "Somebody That I used to Know" and their rendition is amazing. Again, I highly recommend it.

This time the video is great. I think a hi-def download of this would be killer on a decent system.

And in closing, I seem to discover just how good something is when it comes up in a genius mix while we're travelling. I just can't seem to get enough of the pop/rock sound Neon Trees serves up on their album "Picture Show". Here is a guilty pleasure that I always crank right up. It's called "Mad Love". Audio only, but it's all you really need.
Enjoy peoples!

No Balance Wanted

I'm in paradise.  Mountains all around. The sky is clear.  The air is crisp.  I have no responsibilities before me except to be the best husband I can be to my wife.  For the next six days we will live idyllically in the Canadian Rockies.

We just left behind six months of increasing intensity, shot through with the occasional absurdity and/or insanity.  The last three months were fairly unrelenting. And we ended up exhausted. Spent. Emptied.

There is no balance in our lives.  We live in an increasingly impossible situation with an unreasonable neighbour who may or may not be a violent narcissist - frankly, we hope not to find out.  We work for two wildly different organizations/organisms that, objectively, are patently insane.  We will move our belongings for a third time in less than three years - and likely again within the same time frame.

And I am becoming OK with that.  I am releasing the unrealistic desire for "balance" and being taught to embrace the intensity that is our life.  I am pretty sure I don't want "balance" anymore.  If I achieved it, I wouldn't be in a beautiful getaway resort, with the woman who completes me, writing for fun, planning on reading for fun, and expecting a week of indulgent relaxation and recreation.  A totally "un-balanced" lifestyle if you were to do it for weeks, months, years even (some do, you know).

I read the Bible.  I know that the text omits much more about the lives of the people who were front and center on the work God was doing (and still is doing).  But, the gist of it is that life can be filled with high drama, life and death decisions, daring exploits and breathtaking rewards.  There is a time for everything under heaven, but stasis is not anything.  Balance entrenched is unbeing.  It is not LIFE.

So go look for your "balance" if you must.  I'll take the moments that come as God provides them.  Oh, you'll hear me complain.  I am given permission by the Psalmist to declare my discontent - not to mutter it under my breath, mind you.  But I am not given permission to disengage from struggle, life, adventure and wild exploits.  I know my exploits don't seem so wild, but try living totally honestly around other people and see if you don't end up in a few unsolvable conundrums of your own.  It may not be world war, but it can be as intense as anything. I all does make a time like this so much sweeter.

Balance - phah!

I want life! Life to the full!

New Music

So I caved in and ordered HiFi on my Telus Optic TV subscription.  They gave it to us for free over Christmas and sure enough I was hooked like a weekend cocaine addict.  Marketers and Drug Dealers - soulless devils!

I basically subscribed so I can watch "Later...With Jools Holland".  Weekly he hosts an eclectic (truly worthy example of how that word should be used) line up of musical acts.

A couple of weeks ago the band whose CD art graces this blog were on.  So was Bryan Ferry - seminal leader of the '80's art rock mega-band Roxy Music.  I'm a big fan of Ferry and Roxy so imagine my dismayed delight when Two Door Cinema Club wiped the studio floor with them!

TDCC is a thoroughly up to date quartet who embody '80's pop sensibilities with 21st century skill and technical prowess.  Think Devo meets Metric and you might be getting warm.  The tunes are tight, precise, frenetic, crafted, ironic, jaw dropping in execution and fun!  It's a combination at once familiar and wholly unlike anything I've ever heard - and I've heard a lot!

So get your Google on and check them out.  Summer is awkwardly shambling towards us and we all need some tunes to bop the winter blues away.  TDCC could be your ticket to a summer double-feature fun-fest.

Shalom

Where The Leader Won't Go

The second chair is a following chair.  I've read the book - "Leading From the Second Chair" - and it has helped.  But the truth remains that there can only be One Leader.

I'm totally cool with that.  Scripture teaches me that. I am giving myself every day to being more available and obedient than the day before to The One Who Leads Me.

That's the plan anyway.

And I'm being taught in so may ways.  All of them drenched in grace and wisdom from the Lord. He always teaches.  Sometimes his hand is heavy.  Sometimes it is light.

This one lesson has been repeated several times lately to me.  The followers will not go where the Leader won't go.  The followers will go to wrong places, but that's not the same.  When there is a destination that needs to be visited, the Leader must go....first.

It is sometimes frustrating to wait for the Leader to move.  It is sometimes painful when others see the destination and ask why the group is not going there.

I am convicted by my own unwillingness to enter those spaces that I must.  I wonder who is waiting for me to go past the barrier to the place we all want to be?

I watch and learn and wait.  I pray and read and work.

The lessons come.  They go deep.  I will be unable to forget them.

And should I one day be the Leader again, I will use them.

Shalom

Monday Morning Letters

Today the letter came.  Pastors get "Monday Morning Letters".  Invariably they are eruptions of frustration and festering discontent that range like downwind birdshot - indiscriminately peppering the relational landscape of the community.  They happen on Mondays because we have such outrageous and unhealthy expectations of Sundays - and the least little nudge can tip the balance and cause the emotional detritus to cascade forth.

People who write Monday Morning Letters always send them late Sunday night.  They let them loose after a day of stewing and festering, and because they can't sleep with the monster they have wrestled with - they exorcise it onto the page and release it.  I imagine they sleep well.  Their recipients won't for many days afterwards.

Monday Morning Letters are always beside the point.  Like pointing out Hitler was a vegetarian, or that Jesus was a carpenter's son.  What they aim at is hardly ever the real story.  But they do illuminate that something needs to be addressed.  What follows is often a singularly twisted hunt for relevance and truth.  And the conclusions that Monday Morning Letters precipitate are never as useful in the long run as they seem in the moment.

Monday Morning Letters are seen as a natural right of expression for the people who author them.  Never mind that, for Christians particularly, talking is always preferable.  Instructions, recipes, shopping lists, driving directions, general information almost always makes sense enough written down.  Emotional eruptions regarding unmet expectations and perceived inequities never make sense in prose.

For pastors these Monday Morning Letters are the "black marks" of ministry.  They get dealt with in the short term, but leave a lasting stain that hinders slightly.  Like that scratch on the fender of your car - too small to bother to buff it out, but eventually part of the reason why the car is no longer suitable to the owner's needs.

Monday Morning Letters carry phrases like "for a long time", "no idea", "what we are paying for", "doesn't understand", "can't know", "always been", "never been", "others agree", "should", "shouldn't", "huge", "big", "awful" - and it goes on.  The implications are always that something has been amiss for some time and the leadership has been collectively (often wilfully) unaware.  Something must be done.

Monday Morning Letters never offer solutions - yet they indicate that drastic measures are invariably needed.  Pressure is applied.  Something has to give.  Satisfaction is the ultimate goal! Never understanding. And reconciliation is as unlikely as it is unmentionable.

I have had a couple of small Monday Morning Letters in the 26 months I have been at this place.  Let me remember - one regarding preaching about stillness, solitude and contemplation of God and His word (I was too "New Age").  One about calling God "The Big Guy" - a term of endearment for me, not for some though.  A complaint about not protecting the "study hour" because we allowed an ad hoc choir to practice for Easter. And now today's Big Monday Morning Letter - two and a half pages, of which I was the subject of only the first two paragraphs. Twenty-five and a half months into my service here.

Monday Morning Letters start chains of events that their authors have no conception about.  They always start countdown clocks in ministry.  Countdown clocks to the end of the service of the person they are about. April 14, 2013 - and the clock is running on my service here.  How long it ticks until the alarm goes off will be determined by how many more Monday Morning Letters mark me.

No Shalam
No Shalom
Today

My Medicine for Melancholy

Ray Bradbury - August 22, 1920 – June 5, 2012

I apologize Mr. Bradbury...

I'm sorry... Ray...

I just know you would have let me call you that. I borrowed your title "A Medicine for Melancholy" to title this post.  I believe you'd be OK with that. I just know that you'd be amazing, and encouraging, and joyful, and generous. Because everybody who met and knew you says you were. But I know it's true too, because that is how your stories are.

Amazing.

Encouraging.

Joyful.

Generous.

Alive.

You were born the same year as my father, my adoptive father. Your stories walked alongside me like the shadow of a wonderful uncle, a bit mysterious, but trustworthy because family - real family - always is.

My name was written over and over and over again in the library cards of your few books that resided in the collection of Jasper Jr.-Sr. High School. It was just you and me it seemed. I tried to tell others, but no one else signed out your books. Maybe because I always had them. Sorry Ray.

I made up for my jealous hoarding years later when I would go to my kid's elementary school during parent reading week and read "Uncle Einar" to them. I still remember their faces - looking as I must have looked the first time I read "Golden Apples of the Sun" and "Dandelion Wine". Awe. Wonder. Glee.

Your inspiration resulted in my writing a script for a play that got produced in my high school and getting a poem published in the same school's yearbook in 1978 - the year I would have graduated. The dropout made it into the yearbook because he wrote something. I cherished that idea because it made me think of you and your unconventional educational path. Uncle Ray's shadow on my shoulder.

I dreamed of writing to you and asking your permission to adapt "A Medicine for Melancholy" into a one act, three-scene play. You had already done all the hard work. The story is 80% dialogue anyway, and your prose is all character development and subtle stage direction. It would - still could - be wonderful.

You made me want to write. I admit I don't have your diligence, your commitment, your fire. That's why you're published everywhere and I'm alone in the school yearbook and the cold corners of the internets. But I did end up writing - every week - for 8 years. And speaking those words. And you were - no you still are - right!  It's the best work in the world!

I can't meet you now. An entry gets crossed off my "bucket list". But I did meet you. In Green Town, Illinois. In the red dust of Mars. In the swirling autumn leaves of Anytown, Anywhere when the Dark Carnival came rolling in. I met you wearing a Wonderful Ice Cream Suit. I believed you when you said, "Have I Got a Chocolate Bar For You!". I knew if I asked you, you would send me spores so I could Grow Giant Mushrooms in My Basement. I stood by you in the African Velt. I saw your stories moving on the skin of The Illustrated Man. I was singed by the heat - Fahrenheit 451 to be specific - of your prose and poetry. I heard you call in The Distant Sound of Thunder. Together we lifted our voices to Sing the Body Electric.

Thank you Ray. I'll miss the idea of you being alive. I'll mourn the thought of your pen, typewriter, word processor being silenced. I'll grieve that you will never offer me a new window into your soul in eight to fifteen pages. I'll miss reading that new story and how it would create a reflection that shows me a new part of my soul. But I thank God you were a writer who wrote. I thank God you loved your art, your talent, your gift, your craft. I thank God people who loved you made sure you were published. Because of that, I won't miss you. I won't be able to. You'll always be a good cup of coffee and a turned page away. Your loving shadow on my shoulder always.

I believe in God, Ray. You know that now. I trust that He will let you keep writing. It was what He made you to do.

Shalom

Prayer Retreat

Once a month it will be my practice to take a day for prayer and reflection.  On June 1 I traveled to the Cypress Hills Inter-Provincial Park in Saskatchewan, near Maple Creek.  The following is my journal reflection from that journey and time.

(written after arriving in Cypress Hills)

I could hear birds, crickets, gophers(?) even as I drove with the windows down and the wind rushing through the car.  No phone, no radio, no music – except in my head (Blessed Be Your Name; How Great Thou Art; I Love You Lord… maybe a couple of others).

The passage from Ecclesiastes (9:1-17 – Death Comes to All) stood in my mind in stark contrast to the burgeoning springtime landscape flowing by all around me.  I set the cruise control for a leisurely 110KPH – much more sedate a pace than I normally travel at I must confess.

Life is happening all about me even though death does loom.  Cows mow the grass on hills to my left and right.  Crows pick the fresh gopher carcasses on the road.  Hawks ride the young thermals of the morning in anticipation of them growing in the days’ building heat.  They hunt for the living below, alive in their predatory splendour.

Between choruses in my head I ask God for nothing except mercy and forgiveness.  I lapse into reciting “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who Was, and Is and Is To Come” or “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner”.  All other thoughts melt away.  I don’t even have to push.  Only one stray though encroaches – a memory of Perry Cherneski who passed away three years ago this July.  We sang “Blessed Be Your Name” at his funeral.  I mourn once more and find God is faithful to His promise for I am comforted.  I feel the Lord is very near.

I leave the highway and begin the climb into the hills adjusting my pace even slower.  The cattle I pass now are lying in their fields, content to chew the cud of their morning foraging.  I am content too.  The journey has washed my daily cares away.

I sit alone by the north end of the lake.  The rushing wind of travel has been replaced by the gentler rush of water flowing out of the lake and down the draw across the road behind me.  The air is still, a gentle breeze at best dances around the trees and across the lake.

A fish jumps to my right, near the reeds by the shore.  The splash sends ripples outward.  At one point they seem to stop progressing and simply become part of the surface texture of this portion of the lake.  We miss so many details when we do not take time to watch, to observe, to see.  The fish will jump three more times in the hour to come, setting a base rhythm to the events that unfold.

I think about the blind man in the passage in John 9.  I re-read the whole event, from miracle to Christ rebuking the Pharisees.  I try to imagine seeing for the first time ever.  I try to imagine being continuously blind spiritually like the Pharisees.

“Where am I blind?” I ask God.  It is the first question I have asked Him since I started.  I notice three families of Canada geese swimming slowly up the lake toward me.  One parent leads each group of goslings.  One parent follows close behind.  “You hem me in before and behind and on every side.”

Every few yards the families take to the shore for a while.  At first I think they have returned to their nests, but when they return to the water and continue on I am intrigued.  Eventually they come ashore only a few yards from me.  They are foraging for food.  They begin eating in earnest next to the other benches beside me, not forty feet away.  I eat my fruit and drink my water.  We are at peace in each other’s company.  Three cars drive by and mercifully do not stop to interrupt our lunches.

I see that everywhere around me, at every level, God is providing, sovereignly orchestrating life.  I have been missing this simplicity.  Have I chosen a kind of blindness like the Pharisees?  I know God is in control.  I experience it in a visceral, present way.

An older couple arrives to clean the benches.  The geese retreat to the water.  I speak only a few words to the lady – content to keep my silent fast.  I move on to Lookout Point.

From the intimate microcosm of the lake I follow the winding road into the hills.  It serves to separate me even more from the familiar and the ordinary.  Winter fallen trees droop to touch the road.  The park attendants have yet to venture this far to do their annual maintenance.  The lake area, as peaceful as it was, seems busy and almost urban by comparison.  I arrive and park behind a couple enjoying the view fron inside their car.  Instead of intruding into their view I wait and write much of these notes.

They leave.  I take my Bible and walk to the bench overlooking the plain and take in the expansive panorama.  I re-read Psalm 97, Psalm 115 (twice), Ecclesiastes 9, John 9.  I listen to God speaking in His word.

The bees gather pollen and nectar from the dandelions.  The flies pester me.  The breeze is soft.  The sky is clear and open.

I am alive by the grace of God and all I have comes from His Hand.  All idols are useless, and I am still discarding some of my own.  My idol of self-reliance.  My idol of personal pain and hurts.  My idol of competency.  My idol of anger.  My idol of fear.

I ask Jesus to heal my blindness.  Only He can help me see.  I must look to Him.  He is not far.

I ask only for new clarity and sight.  May God be so gracious as to grant my prayer, be it in His will.

I am filled.  I will make the journey home soon, reminded of Who is Sovereign in my life; Who alone I can and must trust; Who alone I must worship and obey.

I know life is struggle and death is my destination – but not my final destination.  And God is providing all I need for now and for ever.

I recall the goslings by the lake, lying in the grass, warming in the sunshine, feeding on the bounty all around them.  I am in the same place, God is loving and teaching me.

Hallelujah!

Shalom is mine in this moment.

I travel home in silence.  I notice my mind trying to return to my cares and concerns.  This time I have to fight to hold onto the peace and contentment.  I struggle, I sing in my mind.  I keep the silence, resist the temptation to check my phone, turn on the radio.

EPILOGUE

A few days after my retreat I find I am still able to enter the silence more easily.  I am content to just be with Susie.  To pray in silence.  To just be before my God.  I hope this lasts.

New Music - To Me

If you've been following this blog you'll know that one of my passions is music.  Recently I did something luxurious and a bit unusual.  I walked into HMV and browsed for some new CD's.  Now you can check out my archives here and find me giving HMV a pretty hard time.  I've been frustrated in the past with not being able to find titles I'm looking for, or not getting good service, but this time it was different.  And although I'm still not convinced that music retailing is experiencing a new renaissance, I will admit I had a pretty good time this time, and I may be back.  Good assistance; opportunity to hear stuff before I bought it; and for once it seemed they had some stuff I was interested in.  HMV at the Mall in Medicine Hat - thank you.

Now to the new titles:

Recently my brother in Christ, Kevin, has been trying to educate me in the spectacular virtuosity of one Joe Satriani.  OK - so I'm really late to the dance here, but I am impressed.  I just picked up "The Essential Satriani" two disc compilation and al I can say is "WOW"!  For those of you out there "in the know" I accept your derisive sniggering.  I deserve it.  If you can appreciate guitar virtuosity, musical genius, hard rock stylings and instrumental as opposed to lyric-based music then dive on in.  The music is fine.  Try track 9 on disc 2 - "If I Could Fly" and just go from there.

Levon Helm passed away recently - April 19.  His seminal work with Robbie Robertson, Garth Hudson, Richard Manuel and Rick Danko - otherwise known as "The Band" should be well known by most.  If you don't know what I'm talking about stop here, go get a copy of "Songs From Big Pink" and listen.  It's OK - I'll wait.  Levon continued making music after the Band completed "The Last Waltz", but he also pursued acting and other artistic pursuits.  Recently, Levon experienced a welcome comeback on the strength of his Grammy Award winning 2007 CD "Dirt Farmer".  I already have a copy of his follow-up Grammy Award winning 2009 CD "Electric Dirt".  I'm sorry it took me till now to rediscover his music, but I'm glad that people record stuff and make CDs.  "Dirt Farmer" is rootsier, folkier, more acoustic and bluesy than "Electric Dirt".  Think "O Brother Where Art Thou".  Still it is very well produced and hypnotic at times.  I recommend both.

Bonnie Raitt walked away with 3 Grammies in 1989 with her album "Nick of Time", and she's won more accolades since.  I admit I haven't bought one of her CDs since, but when I saw her new CD "Slipstream" in the HMV and that she had covered Gerry Rafferty's "Right Down the Line" I had to give it a try.  Her reggae influenced cover of Rafferty's tune is excellent, but what struck me overall were two things - her voice hasn't lost an iota of it's sweet and gruff presence 23 years after "Nick of Time" - and her guitar playing is even better than ever.  Maybe it's just that her producers are highlighting her guitar even more, but I found myself repeatedly being amazed by the tasty licks on this new recording.  Bluesy, playful, gritty, edgy, slick, artful, confident and fresh are just some of the ways I'd describe her playing.  The rest of the band contributes without overbearing.  Check it out - "Slipstream" is Bonnie as good as she ever gets, maybe even better!

When the Cranberries released "Everybody's Doing it So Why Can't We..." in 1993 I was 33 years old, working for Sony of Canada and fully engaged in pop culture.  I always felt I had an internal filter that helped me separate the "great" from the "everything else".  I was around music all day and I hope I was able to pick out good stuff.  "Everybody's Doing It..." was and still is great.  I can't stop pulling it out almost every time I have an extended listening session.  I know I missed 3 other really good albums from them in the 90's so I'll be doing some back catalogue buying eventually, but their new CD "Roses" is currently making me smile.

In fact, it was because the clerks at HMV let me listen to "Roses" before I bought it that I have it now.  As I said in the shop, "They made me smile by the 4th song."  It wasn't that the first 3 weren't good, it was just that on the 4th track I went "Ahhhh!"  Dolores O'Riordan's voice is as magical as ever and the band was doing that thing that only they seem to be able to do - one part Roxy Music; one part Depeche Mode; one part New Order; a hint of Steeleye Span and of course a whole lot of whatever is the Cranberries.  "Roses" is a Cranberries album in every sense of what that means that is good.  The accompanying live CD recorded in Madrid in 2010 is less compelling, mostly for sonic reasons.  It is however, a testimony to the continuing power of the Cranberries to reach their fans.  Repeatedly the concert becomes a sing-along conducted by O'Riordan and the band, but that's OK.  Still, if the Cranberries ever made you smile - they will again when you listen to "Roses".

I've been a fairly constant fan of Carlos Santana since the early 70's when I started buying my own albums.  I've worn out at least three copies of "Abraxas".  I drifted away when Carlos and John McLaughlin got a bit self-indulgent, although I do own a copy of "Welcome" which has the song "Love, Devotion and Surrender".  I came back to Santana when he covered one of my favorite Canadian songwriters - Ian Thomas - recording Thomas' "Hold On" on the 1982 album "Shango".  Since then I have let Santana wander in and out of my musical collection.  I picked up "Supernatural" (1999), "Shaman" (2002) and "All That I Am" (2005).  Now I have a copy of his 2012 release "Shape Shifter".  I have to admit that I listened to "Shape Shifter" right after having given myself a crash course in Satriani and my initial response was "Oh dear!"  But on another listen I have recovered somewhat.

"Shape Shifter" sounds more like an early Santana album than many have in recent years.  In the early years the music was melodically shaped by Carlos' guitar and by Greg Rolie's keyboards layered over,under and woven through by the rhythm section.  The 80's, 90's and 2000's saw Santana albums focused more on lyrical songs and more guitar focused instrumentation.  "Shape Shifter" has long guitar solos and equally long keyboard responses.  I hear more of the experimentation and interplay I heard in the early years.  I saw Carlos, Tom Coster (who replaced Rolie) and most of the lineup who recorded "Welcome" live in 1974 in Edmonton. The band played for over two hours without ever stopping making sound.  Each song flowed into the next. "Shape Shifter" took me back there.  And it was worth the trip.

As always, I find reason to thank God for music.  While it can be argued that a lot of music doesn't glorify God, I really believe that when musicians play with skill, creativity, genius and heart it is impossible to deny that a loving and benevolent God created all things and gave us music as a gift.  I believe that true artists who pursue truth inevitably address God because He is Truth.  I hear Truth in these new albums.  Fingerprints of God everywhere.  He is so good, and I have much to thank Him for.  Now I think I'll spin some discs and give thanks.

Shalom  

Triangulation

So someone said something you didn't like. You were surprised and offended. You overlooked the fact that this person never speaks out, but did this one time because of the passion they had for the subject. This person was trying to help. They took a risk to raise an issue that mattered to them. They thought they were doing it in a safe place.

What did you do with your offense? You say you are part of a body. You say you believe you have a special relationship with the person who spoke. You say you love Jesus and will obey Him. What do you do?

Do you go to the person to tell them your reaction to what they said? Do you even look at your reaction to try to understand it and discern if it was appropriate? Do you act in a loving manner?

No.

You go to another person and pour out your offense about the speaker. This person you go to is outside the community of faith - outside the family. Why would you even do that? The one you complain to has no compulsion to act as Christ would desire they - or you - should. The one you complain to has not been convicted by love as you claim to have been. You complain, like an angry child. You attack and demean a person who isn't even present to defend themselves. You break the Lord's commands. And you lie about loving Jesus. In this matter, that is your witness regarding the God you claim to love, obey and follow.

The person you complain to talks to the one who initially spoke and offended you (remember, they weren't trying to offend you - they were trying, however poorly, to do a good thing). The one you complained to tells the original speaker about your offense towards them. They drop your anger and personal pain on this person and there is no offer of reconciliation - no opportunity to deal with the issue. There is just offense, hurt, bad feelings and broken relationship. You weren't even there to take responsibility for what you said.

And I find out about the wreckage you created. I don't know who you are. And I am heartbroken, frustrated and sad for the one who spoke, for you, for the poor person who fell into the triangulation you created that caused them to sin, too.

And I'm not the only one who knows about this. I'm not the only one upset by this. I'm not the only one who is praying that you come under conviction, repent and seek forgiveness and reconciliation.

I do not prefer addressing this issue in this manner, but I am also no longer able to stand by and let issues like this slide by. I can't deal with you because I don't know who you are but what you did wasn't that unique. I can't address you directly, but there are others who might read this. There are others who might get the point of what I'm saying. there might be others who might take this lesson and carry it with them in their lives and relationships. So I can still employ the example of your sin to teach others. For that opportunity, I am grateful to God.

Scripture is clear - if anyone offends you, sins against you, sins in general or needs help you are to go to them and express your concern. You don't go to someone else. You don't complain behind their back. You don't triangulate. Not if you really love Jesus. Not if you really think He is real.

If triangulating was God's way he would have sent an intermediary to deal with us and our sin. Likely it would have been an avenging angel. Instead He came to us directly. Face to face. Heart to heart. Jesus came to us and named our sin to our faces. He told us directly of His disappointment. and He offered reconciliation because He was present to do so.

This situation can still be redeemed. You can still go and ask forgiveness, seek reconciliation, repair the relationship. But you have to go first.

If you want help doing this I'm available. I am here to walk alongside you. I'm not the only one who would. In the meantime I'll be praying for you. I can do that even if I don't know who you are. I can pray for you because I am compelled by my love for Jesus to love you and seek the best for you - and for the one you hurt. I don't know who you are but Jesus does. This will be dealt with. Jesus promised that. It's up to you whether you are a willing participant or not.

Shalom

Avenging Quotes

"He's adopted."
"There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that."
"So that's what it does."
"It's a dumb order."
"Puny god."
"Thank you for your cooperation."
"I fail to see how that's a party."
"Hulk.....SMASH!"
"I'm working right now."
"That's my secret...I'm always angry."
"Twelve percent."
"I'll have that drink now."
"You lack conviction."

Joss Whedon is a genius writer.  He's a genius director too.  What can't the guy do?  I hope we don't find out.

I am struck by how universally this movie was enjoyed by my Christian friends.  I enjoyed it too, but I am struggling with finding truth in it that I should enjoy it so much.  Except maybe in Agent Coulson's line to Loki - "You lack conviction."  Then he dies realizing that his sacrifice can become the galvanizing event the Avengers need to become a team.

And then there's the slow motion cuts of firemen and police aiding the injured and frightened.  As if to say, "Let's not forget who the REAL heroes are."

Real heroes never lack conviction.  Real heroes pay the price no matter how high.  I guess that's why He's my real hero.

Jesus.

Real conviction.

Real sacrifice.

Real salvation.

Shalom

Schlock Talk

I haven't been posting for quite some time. See my previous post for a cryptic explanation.  Now that I'm in a better place it took something quite special to bring me out of my self imposed hiatus.

That something is none other than Howard Tayler's epic online illustrated space opera "Schlock Mercenary". I just lost a bunch of you because you clicked and left me to peruse the Schlockverse.  That's OK.  That's exactly why I posted.

Howard has a new book coming out.  Try the online archives then I dare you NOT to buy his books.

Oh, and it's nice to be back.

Shalom

And They Said "Shhhhhh!"

So I'm "closed" because some folks were talking about using content on my blog(s) against me. I was warned from a credible source and now only "invited" readers may see my musings.

The two harshest words in the English language?

"Shut up!"

No Shalam
No Shalom

John Hiatt & Los Lobos

On Sept 3 I was privileged to enjoy an evening with John Hiatt & "The Combo" - his touring band and the guys who recorded "The Open Road" with him earlier this year - and the indefatigable Los Lobos at the Regina Casino Show Lounge.

It was a wonderful concert as far as I was concerned.

My main reason for attending was to see John live for the first time since I became a near-rabid fan of his music in the '90's (and yes, I was a bit late to the dance). John and The Combo were all I had hoped for and more. The ten song set list they played included the requisite hits like "Thing Called Love", "Drive South" and "Slow Turning".

John was in fine voice, often treating us to extended gospel-infused vocal runs at song's end with wild swoops from his gravelly alto up to the heights of his falsetto and back again. The Combo was tight, spare and focused, but also able to leg it out with authority too. Perhaps no more so than on their masterful accompaniment of John's newest blues tour de force, "Like a Freight Train". I can honestly say I've never experienced such a stunningly well-played blues song before, and that includes a night in the presence of no less than B.B. King. King, had he been with us, would have smiled his trademark grin and clapped for joy. The boys did it RIGHT!

Exit John after a guitar soaked but still moving rendition of "Have a Little Faith in Me" - a new reading that won me over even as I missed the gospel choir of what is still the best version, as far as I'm concerned, of that classic Hiatt tune.

Enter Los Lobos.

Why I haven't been a constant fan of these guys is a mystery to me. I blame commercial radio for pummeling us all with Los Lobos' version of "La Bamba" in 1987. I left the band behind after that. It's a shame because I didn't know what I was missing. Well I'm making up for lost time now.

Their new CD - "Tin Can Trust" - is a fantastic album. I like every song on it and I'm starting to love a couple of them. Nearing the top of my list is their deft cover of The Grateful Dead's "East L.A. Fade Away". While it might be too easy to call Los Lobos East L.A.'s answer to The Grateful Dead, it is (and was at the concert) obvious that these two bands are linked by more than mere genre and influence. Call them the two best sides of the Southern California experience.

It is also no small feat that the four original high school buddies are still together, along with their add-on friend, Steve Berlin, who joined them for their highly acclaimed 1984 LP "How Will The Wolf Survive" - which has earned a spot on Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums list. I own a copy that I picked up at a garage sale a couple of years ago for a toonie. That might explain some of the context for what I'll be ranting about in a minute. In any case Los Lobos has stood the test of time, weathered the ups and downs of the music biz and come out better, stronger and more creative for it. Such longevity is beyond rare in their world. When it happens magic does too.

I said before that the concert was wonderful "as far as I was concerned". My only problem was the crowd. They were almost to a person

lame

Lame

LAME!

Now I've been to dozens of shows in my life and I've seen shows where the audience wasn't into it - for good reason! The artists weren't into it either. But this is one of the few times, if not the only one, where the musicians were working their butts off and the crowd was either too old, too distracted (by WHAT I wonder) or too uneducated to know what they were missing. Maybe I should have been worried when the lady DJ from 105.9 FM took nearly 5 minutes to introduce John Hiatt. This is the man who recently won the "Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwiting" from the American Music Association. He shouldn't need an intro to anyone who can call themselves a music aficionado with any level of self respect.

I know Regina has recently sprung up on the music tour map after the Rolling Stones, AC/DC and Bon Jovi all had successful shows here, but if all we are going to be able to appreciate is the juggernauts of the corporate music biz because that's all we know - outside of a fairly well-rounded appreciation for country artists thanks to events like the Craven Country Jamboree - then our future entertainment landscape is going to get pretty bleak pretty fast.

Here's a tip - if you don't like, love or even know who the artist is that you're going to go see - DON'T GO! If you wanna be seen "stylin'" go to The Drink. Those of us who want to be entertained, want to be so in the presence of like-minded folks. We want the love in the room to be palpable. We want the artists to know their fans are with them. We want to be a part of something special.

John Hiatt & Los Lobos were very special in Regina on the 3rd of September, 2010. The audience was nothing special.

'Nuff Said!

A Year Since...

My friend Perry died last year - July 5.

Unexpectedly.

Unnecessarily.

Unresolvedly.

Today would have been his birthday. Facebook reminder - weird. Such is the world we live in now.

My post from a year ago no longer plays the song that helped me mourn because the soulless music corporation that owns the copyright is now blocking the video. Thanks for nothing Sony.

It still hurts.

Perry was a man of deep faith in Jesus Christ. I'm supposed to be, too. But it still hurts. And my pain is nothing, I'm sure, compared to what his wife and daughters feel today.

Faith is belief in what we cannot see. I have faith in God's plan. But I can't see it. Maybe one day.

But not today.

Today I see the hole left by my friend's absence. But I don't believe in the hole even though I see it and feel it. The feelings are real. But the truth is stronger. One day it will make me stronger.

Jesus said,
"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28:20b

Jesus is here, but so is the hole. Jesus makes it bearable.

Shalom my Brother, Perry.

Theme Song for This Week

I'm Still Breathing

Just a note to say life has been busy. We are grandparents. We will soon be permanent "empty-nesters". We are seeking new directions. We are dealing with old issues. All is change. Christ is constant. 50 is nearly upon me. Goals, dreams and aspirations remain doggedly fixed upon the horizon. Life has been - very "life-like" of late. I cannot be any more specific.

Shalom

Read This - If You Dare

This is a preview of Michael Spenser's "Mere Churchianity" available on pre-order at Amazon.ca.

Shalom

Great Expectations

Well I've recovered from the loss of Michael Spenser as much as I expect I can for the foreseeable future. Time to get back into the flow.

I guess I'm going to cement my newly acquired "curmudgeon" status with this post. I never really expected to "win friends and influence people" with this little spasm into the blogsphere, but this should surely keep me true to my tagline - "writing for an audience of one - reaching even fewer".

I just can't get excited about much in the pop music world these days. What is passing for excitement and new directions just falls utterly flat for me. Shakira and Rascal Flatts on American Idol on Wednesday night kinda became my poster children for what's wrong with the industry at this point in time. That the Brazilian diva actually had the temerity to quote Franklin D. Roosevelt provided the non sequitur icing that topped the ironic pop culture cake the show's producers had attempted to bake. Ostensibly celebrating the music of Shania Twain as interpreted by the contestants of the show, the performances of the American Idol hopefuls and the guest "artists" laid bare the irony of how talented she was is as a songwriter and artist, and how utterly insane it seems Robert "Mutt" Lange had to be to divorce her.

Oh, and to the guys in Rascal Flatts - you're not a "real" band if you don't have a permanent drummer. You're just a vocal trio who can maybe play some. Thanks to Gary Le Vox (seriously?!?) for at least appearing to be slightly embarrassed to either be on the show or singing with Shakira or both.

Yet, in spite of the cultural wreckage all about us I am filled with hope and great expectations as I see The Corporate Music Machine (TCMuM) slowly grinding itself into the dust it so richly deserves to be. Radio, the once-proud herald of TCMuM has long ago relinquished its claim to be the voice of "good new stuff". It has fallen to the hosts of late night TV to fill the gap - at least a bit. David Letterman did so for me recently when he debuted John Hiatt's newest tune - Highly recommended BTW! But more and more I'm getting my news from the 'net.

So it is for two new upcoming albums from two established artists. They won't get radio play because - well - radio mostly plays crap. Even the so-called "we play everything" stations (Yes, I talkin' to you JACK FM!) have woefully narrow playlists, and don't venture much away from top-40 hits of yesterday and today. Sheesh guys! There's more to Fleetwood Mac's catalog than six tunes, OK!?!

Hooo....OK, I'm calm enough to get through this (I hope). Meat Loaf and Jimmy Webb both have new albums in the offing and I think they will both be worth your while to check out.

Hang Cool Teddy Bear is Meat Loaf's tenth album. Yes, gentle reader it's been 35 years (!) since he sang "Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul (I Really Love That Rock 'n' Roll)" in The Rocky Horror Picture Show and its been 33 years since he and the "Mad Genius of Rock", Jim Steinman, brought us Bat Out of Hell. Meat (or should I refer to him as Mr. Loaf?) has been up and down and up and down and mostly up lately. And HCTB could be just the thing to keep it all rolling for the Texas troubadour. The guy is always thinkin' and the single is - well - just what you might (or might not) expect. I'm thinking he could have been one heckuva pulpit-poundin', Bible-thumpin', go-to-town, tent-meetin' preacher. I guess we'll never know - but he still is pretty young. OK - he's 63 this year, but old rockers never die.

Jimmy Webb is the guy who writes the songs that make the whole world sing - forget about Barry Manilow. With immortal gems like "Rhinestone Cowboy", "By the Time I Get To Phoneix", "Up, Up and Away (In My Beautiful Balloon)", "Wichita Lineman", "MacArthur Park" and "Highwayman" plus many, many more produced during a career that started in 1967(!) it is certain you have heard more than one Jimmy Webb song in your life if you listen to music regularly. His latest release, due later this year, is called "Just Across the River" and will showcase a number of his best songs recorded with guest stars as diverse as Mark Knopfler, Billy Joel and Lucinda Williams. Here's the full story.

So there's life and music beyond radio and TCMuM. And I think the best is yet to come. So keep on listening.

Shalom