Making Bones Into Flutes

I Will Never Pass This Way Again  (Listen here)

Every beauty sleeping, every Jesus crucified.
Your favorite plate will get broken and the hero will cry.
Every rock star wounded, ugly ducklings ridiculed.
Tonight our prom queen is weeping for her last day at school.

Chorus

When I die make my bones into flutes.
When I rise I'll pull up all my roots.
For I will never pass this way again.

All your cut flowers are dying, your full moon will wane.
Your beauty is fleeting and your winning horse has gone lame.
All the money you've been saving in the secret place under the floor, now your house is on fire, the smoke comes in as you go out the back door.

chorus

Tell me what you've been building with all those wedding rings?
And how many dishes to fill a hundred kitchen sinks?
There's a pretty place in Heaven for the pervert and the prostitute, on the banks of the river where the trees are always heavy with their fruit.

chorus

Come and join the Wealthy Orphans and their very special guests for the Throwing Glory CD Release at the Pyramid Scheme Saturday afternoon November 10th. RSVP on facebook here.

Man As Such Is Smoke

"Man as such is smoke,

     A woman as such, a mirage.

Put them togehter, they're nothing:

     two times nothing is nothing.

And a windfall, if it comes-

     don't make too much of it.

God said this once and for all;

     how many times

Have I heard it repeated?

     "Strength comes

Straight from God."

Love to you, Lord God!

     You pay a fair wage for a good day's work!

(From Psalm 62 in the Message translation of the Bible by Eugene Peters)

Sometimes I Felt Like A Motherless Child

This is my mother, Althea June Bassett. She died when I was nine years old and she was 40. It was a cold day in February 1970. She died in her sleep. One day she was there and the next she was gone forever. For the next two years, before my father remarried, I was a motherless child.  But in truth I was a motherless child my whole early childhood because my mother was plagued with mental illness, which included bouts of severe depression and delusions.  So you could say she was there but not there, though she was there at times - and for those passing moments of clarity and love I am thankful. I am grateful that she brought me into the world and struggled on doing what she could with what she had in the time that she had.

At some point we realize that we are all broken in very deep and critical ways.  This brokenness we live with is what we have in common with all of humanity. What few people ever get a-hold of is the truth that all real strength is somehow born out of the places where we are most vulnerable and incomplete.  It is these very missing pieces we struggle with on a daily basis that become the windows for God to come into our lives. It is also in these places where we are left wanting, that we have the opportunity to bring others into our lives.  There are people all around you that are just waiting for you to ask them for help - and in doing so you give them the gift of your own genuine need for the help of a friend. Down the road it will be your turn.

Number Your Days

Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. Psalm 90:12

Some times I am reminded of my mortality and I get a sobering kick in the shins call to action to use my days for good and not waste them on what doesn't matter.  When ever I get my guitar out to play I need to check to see if it is still in tune.  In a similar way I need to keep checking my heart to see if it is still in tune with the life I am living. Some times I ask myself, "Does this still make sense for me, is this still worth doing?"

One day in the winter of 1970 my mother went to bed, fell asleep but didn't wake up. I was ten years old. This was an early lesson in life's brevity.  That is a life scar I treasure for the way it wound my clock that day some 40 years ago.  The loud ticking off of the seconds ever since has made me want to make the most of each day as a gift not to be taken for granted.

Brenda and I have a joke between us that goes something like this. "Hey, how are ya doing?, ...... Oh busy, real busy!"

It is a joke to us because of how in our culture that is what we so often say to each other like being suspended in constant activity is a good thing.  Around here we actually have to carve out times and days to not do stuff. We make times to let the dust settle and regroup. Today I challenge you to let your self feel empty and even lost for awhile.  It doesn't feel like a good thing but it is a good thing for your interior where all good and bad will in the future spring.

Maybe The End Is Just The Beginning

I have enjoyed seeing the return of record players and vinyl in the bins at the local record store and I think I know why.  It is good to see something return that had been previously replaced and considered no longer necessary. As a man riding a vector into old age this thought is a comfort to me.

I remember reading the Johhny Cash autobiography that came out in the late 90's where he shared in detail how his career had tanked and he had become something of an old newspaper in the Nashville circles he used to own. This was an extremely hard time for him as a man who loved to be loved but also a completely necessary passage to go through to come to the other side into the next half of his career that some would say was season of his greatest work. By the way, thanks to Rick Rubin who was there to help the old man get back on his horse.

Unless a seed dies in the ground you don't get the flower. This is still true and death still has feels shitty but knowing it isn't final is a comfort. By the way do you know where I can find a good turntable that won't cost and arm and a leg?