To my faithful readers: I am still here, just don’t have anything to say these days.  I have sat down on a regular basis to write but nothing comes.  I am writing lots of songs but blog posts have been elusive.  I have a bunch of drafts but the energy is not there to finish them yet.  So many thanks to all of you who keep coming by or who drop me an email saying you miss the posts.  They will be back eventually but for now, for some reason,  all is quiet in my writer’s mind.   I will posts some songs this week  ~ T

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We recognize beauty but we don’t demand it. – coleman barks

I came across the quote above in a Coleman Barks poem from his book Winter Sky.  I really love this line.  It just seems so true – we recognize beauty but we don’t demand it.  My wife takes great pains to set the table with table cloth, cloth napkins, flowers and food from local farmers.  I never knew  how much it increased my life until she demanded we do it as a family.  Now it is one of my favorite parts of the day.  I try and make sure our house has poetry stuck on the walls everywhere, music, gratitude and prayers.   It never fails to move me in some unexpected way during the day – A little reminder taped to the wall, a song that makes me stop for a moment, hearing my sons say what they were grateful for during the day.   It takes work to demand the beautiful but more than work I have found it takes a clearing away – a subtracting more than an adding.  The beauty we love is all around us we just don’t clear the space.

I was talking to my son Wilder about God and he was trying to get me to explain it to him.  ”Where is God?”  ”Who was Jesus?” “What do most people believe?”  and finally “what do you think Dad?”  I explained to him that I thought that we all had God inside of us….that we all have a light that burns inside of us that is part God and part our soul and that it is my job as a parent to make sure he never covers it up.  It is his job to listen to it when it speaks to him, to clear out the noise.  My son thought about this for awhile and then said excited, “DAD, I know what that is!  I feel it in my chest Dad and I never knew what it was until you just told me!  It makes it hard for me to sleep sometimes because I can feel it.”  I asked him, “what does it want you to do?”  He thought for a few seconds and then said, “Nothing Dad, it doesn’t want me to DO anything…..It just likes me” and with that he smiled and then ran outside to play.  I think beauty is God’s way of saying he likes us.  He isn’t demanding anything from us, he just loves us.  He pours out his grace in flowers, and music and splashes of sun to remind us how much he enjoys our presence.  Most of the time we hurry by or build concrete walls around it.

I think if each of us took a few moments in our days to demand beauty – to put flowers around our house, to listen to our children tell us what they are grateful for, to set the table with candles and beautiful food as our lover or friend walks in the door, to grab a bottle of wine and hold each others hand as the sun sets over the hill – our hearts would change, our light would burn bright.   This beauty, this life goes so quickly.   Clear some space for beauty, demand it at your table and in your heart….turn off the TV…..put away the fast empty food and let beauty be a love letter to you heart.

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul”.~John Muir

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I had to sit at the DMV today. I was ready with charged cell phone, my writing notepad, calm spirit and poetry books. Walking in I told the reception desk what I needed to do and was promptly handed a number; B118. “B. 6. 5.” The artificial voice called out. “Crap” I sighed, it was going to be awhile. I found a small corner to sit and read and wait. After reading for 20 minutes I looked around the room at everyone waiting for their number to be called…..for their number to be up. Some looked impatient and a bit angry; others numb and distant but most seemed resigned. Suddenly I understand why Jesus referred to us human beings so many times as sheep. Look how patiently we sit letting our energy and life drain from our feet. Not much difference from when a sheep dog lines up the sheep for the pen.   We all stay in line too and just like the sheep fear the dog, we fear not having proper plates or tags and the fines that they bring.

A mother shows her apathetic son cartoons on her cell phone. He barely looks at them and then says, “I don’t get it.”

A man with a Raider’s sweatshirt mumbles, “about fucking time bitch” when his number gets called. Apparently he is not fooled by the nice Robot voice.

A woman sitting in a chair two sizes too small for her eats Spicey Fire Cheetos one at a time staring blankly at the beige counter.

A man approaches the counter after his number is called and acts like the woman behind the counter is a long lost friend. He tells her about his day so far. She doesn’t know how to take this but I immediately like him.
He reminds me of my grandfather who calls every stranger, “friend”.

I go back to reading poetry.

You are an honored Guest.
Do not weep like a beggar
for pieces of the world.

I close my eyes reciting a poem in my head. I am trying to memorize a poem a week. I open my eyes to a toddler who has escaped the confines of her stroller. She has gently pushed my book down, smiles and then waddles back to her stroller with a playful spark in her eyes. I smile back. She runs back to me and I hold up the book to hide my face. She pushes it down giggles at the sight of my face and runs laughing back to her stroller.

They say, We cannot go barefooted
in that courtyard. There is nothing
but thorns through there.

Love answers, The thorns are inside you.
Be silent, and pull what hurts
out of your loving’s foot.

Her mother catches us playing peek-a-boo and quickly puts an end to it. “Stop bothering that man Eliana” she calls out. Eliana runs back to her Mom and hugs her leg.  I smile and say to the mother, “She is not bothering me”.  She looks at me for a moment and then picks up the little girl and *snap* *snap* she is back in her chair with red, blue and green goldfish crackers poured on to her lap. The mother goes back to her phone call: something about someone, “not play’ing that.” Eliana doesn’t seem interested in the brightly colored fake food.   She pushes back the overhang on her stroller, peeks out and then quickly pulls her face back.  She is too young to bury her playful heart.   I smile and wait for her face and act SHOCKED! when it pops out again.   Eliana finds this hilarious and squeals loudly with delight. Her mother does not and turns the stroller towards her.

Reason says, There are only six
Directions: north, east, south, west,
Up, and down. There is no way
out of those limits.

Love says, But I have
many times escaped.

“B. 1. 1. 8. at window. Num-ber. 12.” the pleasant robot says and I stand up and gather my things. “I guess my number is up” I say to the Cheeto woman.   She stares blankly at me and then continues to lick her fingers.   As I walk around to the opposite side of the room Eliana has slipped the bonds of well formed plastic and snappy food colored snacks and is waddling toward me once again.   She makes a noise only 1 year old’s make…a combination of hysterical joy, excitement, and breath stealing laughter.  I drop my bag and grab my chest in feign surprise.   She is delighted and literally falls down snorting and laughing.   The whole room is profoundly un-amused, well, except for Eliana and I.  Her Mom calls for her to “get back here.”

~   don’t listen eliana  ~

You see we are the ones who have lost our way, traded our hearts and laughter for “pieces of the world”.  It was a bad trade.   I would much rather leave this world laughing than with plenty of red cheeto dust smeared on my hands.  I would gladly trade all the pieces I have accumulated for just one bit of your belly laughter.

I hand my paper work to the woman at the counter.   I turn to see Eliana laughing and running for the door in her little pink jump suit with panda’s on it.  Her Mom is chasing, closing in from behind.   “Good for you Eliana. This is no place for you.”

The breeze at dawn has a secret for you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

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Voices we listen to:

The Labyrinth at Lincoln - Photo by Ondrejka Yaconelli

Go back to bed
Watch more TV
Have some more cookies
Don’t tell her
Don’t tell him
You’re no good
Have another drink
Buy more
Don’t try, you’ll never make it
You’re fat
Keep busy
No one will love you
Fill yourself up
You’re not beautiful
You are worth – less

Voices we ignore:

Wake up
You are more than your job
You. Are. Beautiful
Tell the truth.
“Need” less, give more
Empty yourself out
Your children need your kind attention
You can.
You are profoundly loved
Slow down
Your worth is precious
Be still

Think of all the time we spend on our appearance: the right clothes, the right make up, time in the gym, obsessing over parts of us that are too much – parts of us that are too little. Now think of how much time we spend caring for our souls….giving it our attention….listening to it’s longings. How much time do we spend tending the light that burns inside?  What would change if the amount of time we spent on our appearance and the amount of time we spent attending to our souls was reversed?

What voice are you listening to, right now?

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I was asked to participate in an EBook put out by Something Beautiful Podcast. You can download the book for free but they do ask that you think of donating a couple bucks for clean water. I gave them my song The Light That Burns Inside and they added it with the lyrics. So if you download it you get the song as an MP3 for free.

Redemption stories is a collection of stories.
There are words, pictures and verse, but all of them tell a story — a redemption story.
We received input from Adele Sakler, Ben & Joy Thomas, Laura Bridge, Jason Duke, Adam Howie, Christine McIntosh, Trent Yaconelli, Emma Boyd, Angus S. Mathie, Paula Spur, Avril Cutler, Emma Boyd and Rob Griggs-Taylor.

This e-book is definitely worth the read. And the best part – it’s FREE.

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In an interview Coleman Barks spoke of  his teacher Bawa Muhaiyaddeen.  He said his teacher told him to “try to make your life as though it’s a movie, and you and God are going to watch it. Try to make some parts that he’ll like.”  I sat back and smiled while I thought about this.  How about you?  If you sat and watched your life as a movie with God next to you do you think there would be some parts he would like?  Would there be parts when he would laugh out loud or be filled with surprise and wonder?  Would he say at the end, “Wow! ”

I wonder if  more than being upset or frowning at parts that we find shameful he would be bored.  Do you know what I mean?  I wonder if God would watch so many of us….too many of us….sitting around in the midst of his beauty watching our TV’s, arguing about politics, complaining about our oatmeal, staying in stagnant dead relationships, fretting about our bodies, or driving back and forth to a job we tolerate and think, “Where is the action?  Where is the passion?  Where is the heart of this film?”  My guess it would not be the mistakes that would upset him it would be our willingness to let ourselves be in a second rate movie with no real point.   My hope is during my screening God is at the edge of his seat saying, “how are you going to get out of this one!?” or  jumping up and laughing “Oh man that was an epic fail! I can’t believe you tried that!” or all weepy eyed ” *snif* that was beautiful man, pass me a tissue.”  Whatever it is I hope it is not boring.  The best films evoke an emotion.   Nobody walks out of a film and says, “I love how reasonable and level headed it was” or “I Love how predictable it was!”  Lets live a little huh?  This moment, your blood, your skin, your eyes all right here – right now, it is amazing isn’t it?  It is amazing that the stars, planets and sun are so perfectly aligned that you can breath and live.   I MEAN it, when I look at the science behind how life is able to be on our planet it freaks me out just a bit – It still blows my mind.  So my God, lets do some living.  Lets make a movie that when we hit the ground in a pile of dust God rises from his seat, knocks over his popcorn and yells, “Bravo!!!!!”

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My blog says Music ~ Spirituality ~ Life but I have been slacking on posting music lately.   I have been writing alot lately and have a back log of material that I have been setting aside for a solo project.   I am still trying to put all the pieces together but finally feel like I am on my way.  In the coming months I will post some scratch tracks, demos, and experimental stuff.  Give a listen and let me know what you think.  This is probably the best song I have written in years….at least to me.  Here it is with one mic and one take version so you can get a feel for it.

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The light that burns inside by Trent Yaconelli

I need to see the sea again and stand by her side
Watch my father’s ashes as they swirl deep inside
I need to see the sea again let her whisper quiet and shy
And I will fall in love again with the light that burns inside

I’ll sail with the speechless moon as my guide
and I’ll watch the stars as they call with my heart open wide
I’ll sail with the speechless moon as the sea monsters hide
And I will fall in love again with the light that burns inside
And I will fall in love again with the light that burns inside

Jesus don’t cry for me
I’ll be alright eventually
Just take my hand and sit next to me
For I am going out to sea, for I am going out to sea

I will pray to the God of Grace until I reach the other side
And let the wind decide my fate with every rising tide
I will pray to the God of Grace to wash these cloudy eyes
And I will fall in love again with the light that burns inside
I need to fall in love again with the light that burns inside
Please help me fall in love again with the light burns inside

I need to see the sea again

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I was watching her closely at the dinner party.  People were laughing and talking but she just smiled never really jumping into any conversation.  Ken and her hadn’t been over to our house in over a year.  I waited for her to slip out of the group of women she was politely listening to.  Ten minutes later she excused herself and headed for the kitchen.  I grabbed some empty plates, pretending to clean up and followed.  “Hey Shannon, glad you guys could make it out,” I said as I put my hand on her shoulder.  She smiled, “Has this wall always been this color?  I seem to remember it being……ummm….darker?”  She turned and walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames.  “Ya the room used to be a dark brown, Mocha Brown I think they call it, Zoe wanted it lighter for the new baby so I painted it.  Do you like it?”  She looked up from the fire and into my eyes as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “Sure.”

I put a few dishes in the washer and looked up to see her feeling the fabric on our new couch.  She pinched it between her thumb and finger as she rubbed them together.  “So how was that month in Hawaii?  Must have been amazing.”  She ran her hands along the back of her skirt as she sat down.  She then folded her hands in her lap, leaned forward and stared into the fire, “I wasn’t in Hawaii.  I left Ken and spent a month at my parents cabin in Oregon, alone.”  I had known something might be up with those two but had never heard a word about her leaving Ken.  Ken had disappeared into his job for the past few years and when he wasn’t doing that he was tearing up their back yard to build a deck that seemed to get bigger every year.  He had lost 20 pounds since the last time I saw him but I just thought he was busy and focused on his career.  “Oh, I ahh…didn’t know that, wow, that was really um honest.  So are you guys back together now?  You guys Ok?” I said.  Her face looked almost serene, in fact I had never seen her look more at peace.  It kind of bugged me.  Shouldn’t she be embarrassed?  She kept her eyes on the fire as she spoke,   “Ok?   Sure, we are Ok but aren’t we all really?”  She folded her legs under her, “What I mean is I feel like if you have a pulse, have your health, a job, some sort of shelter, you are doing OK.”  There was a long pause as I shifted my weight. “ Right? The thing is Sam, I’m tired of Ok.  Sure it’s nice, sure it is comfortable but is it really living?  Being Ok nearly killed our marriage and it has been killing Ken for awhile now.   You see up at the cabin after some hard hard nights I realized being OK and living are two different things…..and I want to live.”  I laughed a little bit and quickly looked for something to clean up.  I was uncomfortable and I could feel my face start to burn hot but I didn’t know why, “Oh, well, sounds like you had quite an interesting time up there.”  I picked up a couple empty wine glasses and put them on the kitchen counter,  ”Glad your back.  Glad you could join us tonight too.  It has been good catching up with you two.  I’ve missed seeing you around and I hope you find that we are all ‘living’ and doing well.”   I made quotation marks with my fingers as I said ‘living’ and chuckled.  She didn’t even look up at me as she said in a low sad voice, “I wouldn’t call what your doing living, Sam.”   “Hey, What?!  We are living, we are totally living.  Are you kidding?”  My throat tightened and I annoyed even myself at my increasing higher pitch and the fact that I seemed to have to laugh or giggle after every sentence.    What was I so freaked out about?  She was the one with the marriage on the rocks, she was the one living in a cabin, she was the one who was probably reading a bunch of self help pseudo religious crap pretending to be suddenly wise and spiritual.  What the hell was I so nervous about?  Why did I feel like a thief running out of a mini mart?  I grabbed a short glass and pulled out my bottle of Bushmills from the cabinet next to her and poured myself a large drink.  It was quiet but she didn’t seem to notice, she didn’t seem to mind that she hadn’t responded to anything I had just said.  I took a long drink and felt the Irish whiskey work it’s magic.

I could hear laughter erupt in the other room as someone was telling a story about their dog and the neighbor’s fence in a booming voice.  ”You know Shannon, Zoe and I are doing great, just great and we are totally living…..totally”, I said suddenly aware of how foolish I sounded.  Why was I trying to convince her of anything.  Who the hell was she to make me feel this way.  ”Hey I get it.  You went up to the cabin and got a little clarity or found God or the Universe or something right?  Good for you.  I mean it, good for you but that doesn’t mean we are all fools and lost souls down here.  I like my suburban house, I love my wife, I love my life.  Maybe we are not ‘living’ as you see it but it sure feels like it.”  Her calmness was starting to bug me now, “And anyways if you call ‘living’ running off to a cabin when you get in a fight with your husband….uh…if that is liiiiiving than well…*chuckle – chuckle*…you can have it.  But me, I think I am ‘living’ just fine thank you.”  I took a long drink and sat next to her on the couch.   I was proud of my speech.   Sure it was a cheap shot but it felt good to push back on her b.s.  The whiskey was giving me confidence and I didn’t feel my face burning anymore.  I had finally took control of our little talk.  If I played things right, things still might go my way.

Zoe came in and started filling up a chip bowl when she noticed us.   She looked at us smiling for a long while as she rubbed her pregnant tummy.  ”Hey you two, your missing some great stories in there.  Sean is getting ready to tell us about his first date with Krista.”  Shannon kept her eyes to the fire and when Zoe went to grab some glasses I scooted down the couch away from Shannon.  ”Sure babe, we will be in in just a sec.  Shannon is telling me about her trip.”  Zoe stood for a few seconds staring at me closely and then smiled quickly, turned away and said, “Ok hon but hurry up.”

Shannon turned to me, refolded her feat underneath her and moved close.  ”Finally”, I thought.  ”Look at me Sam” she said and then placed her hands on mine.  ”Sam, your not living.  I don’t even know if you are ‘Ok’ at this point.  You have slept with half the woman in our neighborhood and…”   I cut her off, “Wait a minute.  Hey! Wait just a minute, you don’t”   She squeezed my hands, “Let me finish Sam.”  She looked straight past my eyes into something deeper, something exposed and raw.  I don’t know why but I fell silent.  ”Your a liar Sam and a cheat.  Why did you follow me in here Sam?  How long have you tried to get me in your bed or did you want me for just a quick release on the side of the house as our spouses laugh and drink?  Sam, there is something more than this.  Something more than getting cheap thrills from sneaking around and conquests.  Your heart racing from getting under my skirt or lying to your wife is false Sam.  That’s not living Sam.  That is not life.  That is not being alive.  It is just a fake boost for a dying heart.”  My face was burning and my ears felt like they were on fire but I couldn’t speak.  My shoulders sank back into the couch like a casket being lowered into the dirt…..I felt…. defeated.  A wave of unmeasurable exhaustion piled on top of me.  I couldn’t even work up some sort of fake indignation about being accused of “such things”.  How could I, when everything she said was piercingly true.   In fact it felt good to have someone use such clear true words  -false- cheat- liar.   I finished my drink and looked into the fireplace and could feel that same fire burning wildly the brush and brambles that had once covered my eyes.

She turned my head to  meet her gaze, “I love you Sam and I love Zoe.  Come back to life Sam.   This dead living will get you nowhere.  Come back Sam.”  She stood up and kissed me on the forehead like I was a child and walked out.  I felt the black veins around my heart relax.  Somewhere beneath my skin my blood began to move and I wondered for the first time in my years walking this earth if I was alive.    Something wanted to rise up, a part of me buried beneath the lies and distortions wanted to rise.   I set my drink down on the floor, looked up and from deep within reached with every fiber of my being for the surface.

Short Stories, Uncategorized, depression, life, spirituality | 1 Comment »

She stood in the kitchen staring out the window over the sink.  Would today be the day she thought to herself.  She could hear him eating behind her.  This always irritated her; the clicking and clacking and slurping.  His bulging jowls hung like sad bean bags and seemed to amplify every disgusting sound.  She had an urge to punch him when she sat across from him, which is why she spent most meals standing or staying busy.

Her stomach burned but she reached for more coffee anyways.  She had a brief fantasy of turning and smashing the glass coffee carafe over his head.  The thought of him stunned and silent as he hit the ground made her smile.  She turned this little thought over and over in her head like a child with a new toy until he interrupted asking for more bacon and ricotta cheese scrambled eggs.  She filled his plate with as much food as would possibly fit on to it and added an unasked for piece of sourdough bread dripping with butter.  She stared at the plate and decided it wouldn’t be enough.  She then gritted her teeth as she pushed down on the scrambled eggs to make room for another scoop.  She laid it out before him and he smiled a big OH BOY! smile, patted her bottom, thanked her and dug in.  She walked to the sink and clutched her stomach as a sharp acidic burn squirmed and wormed its way deeper.

She thought of how hard she had fought for him after the affair; how she cried and yearned for him even after his betrayal.  She couldn’t stand the thought of those memories.  How pathetic, how weak she was to beg for him.  The worm in her stomach loved this thought.  She could feel it expand and wrap itself around her intestine squeezing it tightly.  She would never forgive herself for her weakness…..she would never forgive him either.  She didn’t understand that until he moved back in.  The day after they made love for the first time in six months she decided she would keep working to make him as unattractive and repulsive as she saw him.  She would feed him as many cakes, butter sauces, lamb shanks and beer as he could handle.  He would laugh, kiss her cheek and say, “Oh baby you are going to kill me with all of this but I can’t say no.  Man!  You have become quite the chef my dear, quite the chef.”  She would smile back and say, “I just love cooking for you honey.  I love you being happy” and then walk into the other room to wipe her mouth and the spittle he left on her cheek.

She heard a cough and then a gag.  She turned from the sink and looked at him as he seemed to choke.  He dropped his fork in a panic as she watched with glee over his left shoulder.  She could feel tentacles burst out from the worm and shoot through her veins and spinal column, it felt, delicious.  He then cleared his throat, took a long swig of coffee and reached for more bacon.  The worm thrashed furiously in disappointment.  She once again stared out the window and took another sip from her coffee.

A few minutes later he spoke, “That was wonderful honey.  You really outdid yourself on that one.  I tell you I cannot eat another bite.”   Her faced changed as she spun around to face him.  “Really dear?  I am so glad you liked it, now how about blue cheese stuffed pork chops for dinner when you get home?”  He smiled broadly at her “Baby, you spoil me.  I can’t wait to see you tonight.”  He put on his jacket and walked out the door.  She picked up her plate of untouched food and took a nibble of toast.  Immediately the worm squeezed her intestines until she spit it out.  Her little 98 pound frame wanted none of it.  She opened the fridge, pulled out four pork chops and un-wrapped them.  She felt the weight of the cold meat in her hands as she decided what to do with them.  “Cream” she thought, I am going to need some heavy whipping cream to mix with the blue cheese.  The worm spun circles with pleasure.  It was hungry.  It was always hungry.

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He could feel his legs tremble as he walked into the room.  He didn’t want to see what he knew would be waiting for him; his father weak, disabled, pale and fragile.  His mother was sitting next to him holding his hand.  She gently rocked back and forth as she stared lovingly at his face.  All of the strength of this once vital hulking man was gone and now he was nothing more than a wounded deer on the side of the road.  The world would zoom past and he would die.  He looked at his mother and she turned to him and smiled a deep and warm smile that struck a chord in his chest.  She was different.  Her nervous energy was gone or maybe it seemed to have finally found its purpose.  She was calm and beautiful.  She beckoned him closer but he couldn’t.  He was in the presence of something, something that held him in awe and also frightened him at the same time.  The room seemed to be filled with it, glowing with it and it had a weight that reminded him of the ocean.

“I have been waiting for this moment for 48 years” she said quietly to seemingly neither of us.  “He spent his whole life being strong, working hard, trying to do what was right, trying to take care of me and you and all the rest of it, that he never really let me love him.”  She turned to me, “Perhaps he felt love was weakness or wouldn’t allow him to face the day with strength….I don’t know.  I just knew it was my job to love him no matter what and some day, some day he would let me love him.”  She smiled her eyes aglow like sunlight – like home.  “Today is that day Charlie, today is that day.”

His mother spent the rest of the day whispering to him, singing quiet songs to him, holding his face in her hands….he was her beloved.  He never understood that word until that moment standing in the doorway.

His father died that night but it was not his death that kept him awake in the days to come because when he died he seemed content, full, at peace.  What kept him awake night after night was the thought,  what was it that kept him in the doorway that day?  What kept him from meeting his mother’s gaze, what kept him frightened of what clearly would not harm him?  As he walked out of the hospital exhausted and alone he dropped his keys as he went to open his car.  When he went to pick them up his legs began to tremble again and he slid to the ground like a drunk.  He looked out on the city as it lay sleeping and saw for the first time that he was still in the doorway…..always standing in the doorway.

Months later he had a dream.  He was at the hospital and his father was there sitting next to his mother, they both were staring lovingly at the bed.  His father beckoned him to enter but he could not move,  he was paralyzed.  He looked closely at the man in the bed and began to weep as he realized it was himself lying there.  He heard a voice calm and true that simply said, “My beloved….my beloved.”  He woke up in a cloud of tears, put on his clothes, opened the door of his apartment – stood quietly for a long moment – and walked out.   He drove out to the sea and bought a coffee at a bait and tackle shop.  As he sat watching the sunrise the small doors in his heart began to open and open and open.   This time when once again that gentle kind voice came to him wrapped in warmth and light and whispered, “My beloved”….he stepped out of the doorway and he was home.

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For the next few weeks I am going to do a series of stories.  For some reason stories are all that are coming when I sit down to write so I decided to follow them.  I noticed a theme and decided to make a short story series of them.

The Guest Room

She paced back and forth in the guest room. She had had enough.   It wasn’t a fight with screaming and the digging up of old hurts that had sparked her anger, instead it was him sitting on the couch watching TV as she got ready to go. He was supposed to go with her as she hiked along the lake on the anniversary of her mother’s death but somehow he talked his way out of it with a smile and a joke. ….this was nothing new.  He said he was too behind at work to just stop what he was doing and head off into the woods.  He knew it was important to her but she finally saw clearly that what was more important was himself – his own needs and wants no matter how small. When faced with the seemingly simple choice of doing something small and important to her or satisfy his own selfish desires he would always chose his own.

In this tiny moment in the guest room she realized all of his shortcomings, all of his once endearing traits all seemed to conspire day after day to frustrate, exhaust and finally anger her. She had spent years using food, a glass of wine, or a forced smile with an assertion that he ‘meant well’ to get her through another day, but it worked no longer. There was a distance inside her now, one that could not be bridged.  What could she do, she always told herself, this was the guy she married. The thing was he didn’t hit her, wasn’t a drunk or a liar, didn’t demand she behave like a 50’s housewife; he was much more subtle than that. She had never seen it until today and now she realized he was like water on stones. He wore her out by consistent, constant pressure.  What seemed like a placid river on top was actually rubbing away on stone and dirt below -  scraping its way through.   She had wanted to travel, to visit her daughters more, to take day trips and see plays but at the end of  the day she would end up next to him on the couch watching a movie he had probably already seen.

She thought of the newspaper article about a section of the river people in town loved to swim at during the summer months. Every year 4 or 5 people would be confused by the rivers seemingly shallow calmness and before they knew it found themselves pulled under by the current and swept away. She walked across the floor to the table, looked in the mirror and she saw it. There was a valley cut through the center of her. She had never noticed it before, perhaps she had felt it from time to time but she always assumed it was just a case of the blues or melancholy but now there was no denying it’s presence…no denying its depth. She felt her chest and it felt wet…damp. He had run through her like he ran through everything else in his life and now years had been washed away like silt. She looked at the wrinkles on her face, the deep canyons across her forehead and cheek.   She wiped her tears, put on some fresh lip stick as she heard his voice calling her.    She was like a leaf that had been caught in an eddy for a few moments, she was calm and still but then a pull and she was gone.

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Thought is was really beautiful….enjoy.

Nuit Blanche from Spy Films on Vimeo.

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Hey everyone, I will be performing solo in Ashland, OR on THURSDAY, February 11th for The Hearth story tellers series. Seven of Ashland’s bravest community members get ten minutes to tell a true story of love without notes or memorization. Storytellers include Sam Alvord, Zoe Abel, Jeff Golden, Eve Smyth, Bobbi Kidder, and Frank Rogers. Hosted by Mark Yaconelli with music by Duane Whitcomb, Wendy Stanek, and Trent Yaconelli. 7 to 10 pm. Caldera Tap House on Water Street. Cost is $4 or 4 cans of food. $7 or 7 cans of food for couples. All proceeds go to Ashland Food Bank. Sponsored by The Hearth, Ashland’s new storytelling series. Click here for a better description of the event and details. This will be a one of a kind event so if you are in Southern Oregon or Siskiyou county area come on up. Seating is now very minimal. Please contact the link above for information on reserving a seat.

I don’t think my brother and I have done an event together since we did the Mark & Trent show on KSYC when we were 10 and 12. Should be fun. If you come out make sure you say hello and we will grab a beer. I will be performing some new material and Duane Whitcomb, an amazing violin player, will be joining me.  Duane played on Carry You Home which you can find below on the blog.  After the show I am heading up to the mountains to hang out with the family, have some down time, and do a little writing.  Hope to see some of you in Ashland.

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God: what are we doing here? This is boring. Lets run. Lets run so hard and so fast that our hearts beat in our throats and then let’s go to that diner on Hwy 12 and order a giant breakfast with eggs and sausage and ham. Then when we are stuffed with coffee and food lets hike up Sugarloaf and sit in the quiet of the trees and watch the world spin and spin and spin.
Trent: Now!? Right Now? The guy is in a heated talk about –
God: About what?  Honestly do you know what he is talking about? He lost me once he started quoting Deuteronomy. I mean look at the guy all red faced. I’ve never met this guy in my life.
Trent: would you keep it down?!? People are starting to look. Maybe he is just getting started, maybe the next part is going to be really good.
God: Ummmm, let me answer that right now, “No.”    It isn’t going to get better in fact it is going to go a bit like this, “bla bla bla FEAR! bla bla bla BE GOOD or God WON’T LOVE YOU! bla bla bla Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!  bla bla bla AND Pass the giving basket.”  TA DA! I just saved you an hour and half of your life. Can we go now?
Trent: You know I came here looking for you. I thought you would be happy that I showed up.
God: Can I tell you a little secret? Somehow everybody misses this…..but if you only look for me in Church then you don’t notice me everywhere and in everything else. You box your experience of me into these very stiff four walls and you box my words in the mouth of this guy…..this red faced-spittle-flying-guy…..whom I LOVE but maybe not so much when he is making that face.   I am a bit bigger than that….if you will let me. Do you understand? Can we go? Lets run!”
Trent: uhhhhh…..ok but this doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.   Isn’t it at the very least impolite to just get up and leave?
God: Polite?  Politeness is for the weak of heart and uninspired.   Plus…..What could go wrong?  I am frigging God……and I am buying.

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Could the moment of our demolition be the beginning of our renovation? Could the moments that tear us down to our very foundation, the moments that rock us to our core be a chance to rebuild ourselves closer to who we actually are?

The trash is gone

The wasted words and distractions are cried out

The false fantasies of what or who you wanted to be lie smoldering

The wasted walls and rotten floor boards are all torn down and in the rubble is a very real gift to begin again….refreshed.  To build again but now to build a home of windows and light.  One that lets the day and night wash through and each with a gift.

I know life has been hard on you.  I know it hurts.  But if you want to live, not just get by in this life than you need to let go of what was and embrace what is and start again.  All of us, All Of Us, will be gone all too soon enough (Haiti teaches us that) so lets make the brief moments we have here mean something.  I don’t mean that in the sense of adding more success or things to the world but instead adding and breathing in more beauty, love and awe into the world.  In the midst of the ashes and ruins is a gift, it is yours to find.

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