The Mask we make

When you truly know who you are, when the depth of you touches the True Name from the Maker of the stars, your skin pulses with a joy of knowing eternity. From this union of finite to the Infinite we derive strength. The purpose we pursue in vanity becomes distasteful. The winds of realization sweep the dust from the once hidden places and we are beckoned, invited to come see what we traded for porcelain masks and haughty eyes.

My eyes beheld an ancient door. The unpleasantness of it begged my soul to turn and walk away, but I was held fast by the presence of the One inviting me to see the mystery of this battered gateway. Locks undone and chains loosed, light surged strongly through seams unbroken for time beyond reckoning. “The door,” He said, “is the gateway to all the things you have locked in your heart, hidden from eyes in fear that what you offer is not worthy.”

The honesty of His words pierced my heart. How I have wandered from that place of authenticity. Seeking for the pleasant thoughts of strangers, seeking to be seen in a certain light. Presenting my best and shielding people from seeing my worst. In this emptiness we have all created masks to wear.

These masks we wear are derived defenses; our deviation from original design to win affections of whimsical crowd. We strive to recreate the moments of exhilaration at being captivating to an audience. Be that audience one or thousands. How we yearn for purpose and meaning in a world gone mad with finding fame. We’ve lost ourselves in the search to be something to somebody. We use our talents as shields to ward off the scrutiny of just being.

But, my friends, there is no shame in yearning for the name given in the depths of your heart by the only One who knows that name. Here your reality comes crumbling down and from the rubble rises true opportunity.

Small thoughts

Small sparks. I can see the flames trying to dance out from beneath the surface. I can feel the heat, sense the urging; the longing for fuel to feed the blaze that can be. It shimmers and shifts; seemingly a mirage, but the depths of me knows that I have touched eternity.

What if film becomes more than art? What if music becomes more than words and melody? What if art becomes more than presentation? What if words become more than just ideas?

Imagine these tools in the hands of artisans skilled in crafting message, experienced in communicating purpose, desperate to weave eternal into fleeting things. What if we finally begin to touch something larger than ourselves, and begin to reveal Him who is greater than all things and in all things?

Hope brings life, and life brings light to tear darkness from its throne and death from its feast. Saturate your mind with the impact of these tools. Now use them to bring hope.

These are the thoughts in my mind. I wrestle with these instructions, I find myself desperate to build my kingdom of fame and fortune. Hollow mountains made of thinest glass. Dreams separated from purpose; vain ambitions. They mean nothing if they do nothing for anyone but myself. Oh let me see outside of my tiny kingdom of filth to a life extraordinary.

Small set

Last night I had the privilege of playing a small set at an art gallery exhibit opening. I was invited by another musician, Seth Hall, to come and play a half hour set. The artist, Ashley Lathe, was an incredibly genuine person that I enjoyed talking to and learning the history behind his works.

The crowd that came was gracious, and as I played all I could think about was how much I like doing this. I watched as people sat in their small subgroups and talked and laughed, enjoyed the artwork and the evening. I just hoped that in someway I was able to contribute to their night out in a positive way.

Cove of Recovery

Finding the right words to describe this weekend is going to be hard. I had wonderful moments of complete faith, and within an hour crumpled to the ground in complete bitterness and defeat. My head is reeling from the circular, internal storm that has raged.

My mind has anchored in the shallow waters of a peaceful cove, but the ship has endured much damage. The sails are tattered, the rudder is splintered, the mast has cracked and I am exhausted. I have sailed long and hard on a voyage that has been my own. Pride, fear, anxiety, selfishness, and greed have been my invisible crew and treacherous soothsayers. Listening to them I have wrought unspeakable damage to this vessel.

But the vessel is not beyond hope, it is not beyond repair. In this cove I have reunited with a master craftsman and mentor. One whose gentle words have reminded me that life is more than my ambition. Narrower is the path and harder is the journey than can be imagined. And I am gently reminded that my frail attempts to bargain for my way are no good where I am heading.

Preparation begins in the heart. This is where the story begins. This is where the story's end is determined. I am mulling over what this means: letting go of everything that I hold as necessary to trust one who is trust's author.

Rhythms and Randoms

I have holed myself in the small corner of my room with my laptop after an exhaustive session of recording and mixing. I am working on a collaboration project with a friend of mine. The concept is taking life and its ammunition is causing me to stretch and expand my current style and capability. It's hard, but it's nice to be pushing myself outside of my comfort zone of creating music.

As I've tried this new style it has loosened tidbits of treasure from seemingly scorched land. The sky has opened its arms and the horizon seems to inflate. Its broadened borders offer both the comfort and the challenge that I have much to learn. I am excited about this new land. A new playground to explore.

Has your creative land expanded lately?

What are you doing to stretch beyond that which you are currently comfortable?

Lesson: Don't Rush

Lessons come in different packages. Some are small and gently tug your conscience, and others are boisterous and unexpectedly pimp-slap you. The former are nice to have, but sometimes it takes the latter for you to be able to drink in reality as it should be.

In my mind I had pieced together everything that needed to happen over the course of the next few months: handing in my two week notice at my current position, pack up all that I own (which is hardly much, but more than I need), and move to Charlotte. And I truly hadn't thought much more in depth than that.

I have been the king of quick decisions in my short span on this earth. I have picked up and moved to Portland(OR), San Diego, and Raleigh(NC) with intermittent stops back in the homeland of Virginia. Never thought twice, just moved.

And here is Wisdom that has shifted my world off-axis: Those who make haste with their feet err.

Period.

August Rush

Holidays are wonderful because you finally have use of a thing that seems to elude you the rest of your days; time. Its seems that the world hunches over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath for a moment, before starting to run again. And the luxury afforded is the choice of what to do with your time.

One of my choices this weekend was to take in an anticipated movie (for me) with my family; August Rush. I thought I knew what expect from the film, but I must say that I was delightfully surprised. The weaving of the story was beautiful with rhythms of time moving back and forth, and melodies that pervaded this haphazard family to become a beautiful song and uncover the bonds of a family yet fated to be.

I thought that Keri Russell and Freddie Highmore did a wonderful job capturing characteristics and reflecting each other in mannerisms and actions. I would definitely recommend this for your viewing pleasure.