Rope

IM chatting with a friend who tells me she's come to the end of her rope. 

I've been to the end of my rope. Yet, somehow, I'm still here and the rope continues.  Which makes me wonder, was that the end of the rope I reached last time? Is this the end this time? There's more to this rope than meets the eye. 

As long as there's life, there's rope. (O, that's bad, I should delete that, but I'm not going to... Scott wouldn't want me to)

I relate to my friend. Here I am, once again at the edge of Lennox. 

Can't go any further. I fully expect the promise of God to be fulfilled in my life. Haven't stopped praying. Haven't quit believing. Just ran out of strength, that's all. Can't move a muscle. 

Stalled in the middle of the album. Wrote these songs at a low point in my life. Now I find myself re-living those emotions as I revisit this music. I've been here before, paralyzed. Last time I was paralyzed from fear; this time exhaustion. 

The effect is the same. I'm not moving. Like my friend on IM, it's gonna take a miracle to get me unstuck. 

My latest miracle wears dreads. Came alongside so smoothly I didn't realize what was happening. He came by on a Tuesday evening, told me we'd jam a little. We did. Worked on a track for singer Keaver Brenai. 

After a couple hours, I was ready to call it for the night. He starts having me play one of the songs for the album. Play it again. Ok, wait, slow down that part, shorten that part. Bring that part back again.

Next thing I know, dude's putting me through the paces of a fullblown musical arrangement. And by the way, what am I doing next Tuesday, same time? I'll tell you what we're doing, four more hours of the same. 

He was a professor at Berklee College of Music for 9 years.  Now he's a professional drummer in Los Angeles. I know this cat's got stuff to do. He's got tours and showcases, films to score and tv shows to record cues for. 

His schedule has one open date before he travels to Japan on a grant to study Japanese rhythms for 3 months. I'm pretty sure dude's got more to do than pick me up and dust me off. And drag me to the nearest studio. 

You know what, that's exactly what he's been doing. I was telling Suzanne the other day, I feel like a runner who's collapsed within sight of the finish line. And right when I'm about to give up and just lay there, along comes my brother to lift me up and carry me forward. 

The only date he's got available is July 19th. So that's the day we're going into the studio to restart "Sounds Like Humans." Batch of three songs: Road Trip, Smoke 'n Alcohol, and Sweet Lover. 

I really could not do this without you, my brother, my friend. I watched some of your gigs on Youtube tonight. You are an incredible musician and I'm deeply honored to have encountered you as a collaborator. 

 A single phrase to describe my friend David Cowan: Young Professor Old-Soul Brother

Sing Over Me

I love Sabbath. 

I told you I was sitting on the beach having conversation with God about this. It's tripping me out. Speaking of which, I should warn you now, I'm slightly crazy. I asked God to teach me how spirit works and He said, "OK, then follow me out of your mind." 

Rewind a few years to when Sabbath completely sucked for me. I grew up in a conservative setting where Sabbath was pretty much The Day The Fun Stood Still. 

Basic operational guideline: If there's any chance you might enjoy it, you shouldn't be doing it on Sabbath. 

So although I always felt like there might be something magical about it, the possibility was obscured many years by a list of rules for the doing and the don't-ing of the day. 

A few Sabbaths ago, I went to my Hollywood Church and it was a heavy day. Several of us were hurting, some out loud. There was a fog in the air over the city, a phenomenon called June Gloom. Weird that I've never noticed it before. I've lived in Los Angeles over 25% of my life, and I don't remember this?

Why this year am I acutely aware of the fog? It's 'cause I'm sad and lonely and we'll talk about that later. 

As soon as church was out, I tossed some stuff in the car and headed east. Three weeks earlier I had promised Zoe and Dulce that I'd come out and play music with them on a Sabbath afternoon. 

They just got all this cool new equipment. 

It starts out: "hey, you should come jam with us"

Then it was: "you better come jam with us"

Then it turned into: "if you don't come jam with us, you're dead!"

Don't you love how this escalates from invite to demand to death threat?

I'm so heavy by the time I get there, I'm looking for a way to ditch this, but understand these are two of my dearest friends in the world. The absolute delight on Dulce's face as I walk into the studio is reason enough to drive 100 miles. I figure they'll notice sooner or later, so I might as well divulge:

"Hey you guys, I'm depressed right now and I don't have any music in me..."

So you know what! They played and sang and I just sat there and soaked it up. And it was good medicine. Dulce rockin' the Madonna covers and Zoe on the Pat Benatar. And my spirit peeked out from behind my pain. And that thing that music does began at my toes and worked its way steadily into my heart. 

And it wasn't until later that I remembered you can't sing Madonna tunes on Sabbath.

By which time I felt much better and it was too late. 

A single phrase to describe my friends Zoe and Dulce: Musical Deliverance

Dare to hope...Thank God for my Divorce! (part 7 of 7)

I stand in the strength of learning remembered. 

By Grace I am strong enough to love deeply and well. Interesting that it took divorce to wake me from a passive state, but now I have opinions and tastes and desires and intentions. 

photo by Rory D. Peters

Shall I dare to hope that my friendship with Suzanne will last forever? 

I do

Dare I hope that someday our paths will cross more substantially than the current spiderweb of emails and phone calls?

I do

And do I hope that from the ashes will rise a phoenix, a marriage recognizably similar to the old and dead, but of a newly individual beauty?

I do

Hope is a risk that's worth the taking.

I believe God is more powerful than death. I believe this dead marriage can live again, better and stronger. I believe marriage is a life-long choice, a daily choice, a choice to love when I don't feel like it or I'm too tired or too hurt. We love because He first Loved us. 

Before you rush to my rescue, accept my assurance that I have no illusions about the finality of divorce. My marriage is dead. Completely. I get that. I may have a better grip on the reality of the situation than you think. Thank you. I am where I mean to be. 

photo by Zoe

I lift my hands in surrender.  A couple weeks ago, God said to me, 

"You know, there's a difference between throwing your hands up, and lifting your hands. Same range of motion, but one is quitting in frustration and the other is submitting to the requirements of victory." 

What if God allowed me to lose my marriage so I could learn to love my wife? Is that too unconventional to ponder? Are not His ways beyond searching, Her ways beyond finding out?

photo by Suzanne

Proverbs 25:2  It is the pleasure of God to conceal a thing, and the honor of kings to search it out.