Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Lay Down Your Spirit
New Song! Did a quick recording of this song the other day and wanted to post it here. (There is also always other stuff here)
Lay Down Your Spirit
Download it: Here
Monday, October 4, 2010
We Still Try
After a summer off, I have a very rough recording of a new song. I was just happy to get something down.
We Still Try
Download it: Here
Monday, May 24, 2010
Lost Tangent
I wrote a couple songs this weekend. This is the simpler, less “minor” driven one. It is the first of two “Odes to Philadelphia.” For all the people that are the inheritance that we receive in this world. It is pretty stripped down, I hope you enjoy it.
I Am Blessed (Ode to Philly I)
Download it: Here
* * * * * * *
Ok, I am taking a bit of a detour today. What was with that BS lost finale, and what is with the universal admiration of some sort of pop-philosophy purporting to divulge the true meaning of existence in a seemingly meaningful (though ultimately meaningless) chain of events in “reality”? Am I the only one that thinks it was the ultimate copout for a giant hole that was dug and never could be infused with actual meaning. OK, so they’re all dead, but they weren’t dead on the island. Let’s just side-step the continued significance of the islands ultimate meaning for the fate of the world. For 5 seasons (arguably most of the sixth as well) they played up the ultimate significance to the work on the island, and then in careless fashion devolved the significance of everything to the ultimate reality of life experienced and relationships gained. See the shift, it is from the significance of the island to human existence, and then this is ignored to say, “well what is really important is realizing the true nature of reality.”
Several blogs have stated that if one was expecting to get the minutia answered you’ll be disappointed. That’s not even it. I’m not disappointed with there facile explanation of the numbers that reality didn’t touch the surface of the meaning the writers infused them with, or their inability to even discuss the “religious” rituals and cultus on the island. More importantly, they didn’t even answer what the island was. If they took the even easier way out and said it was purgatory, then at least that would be an answer. Of course that would have additionally been disappointing (especially since they said they wouldn’t do that). However, to just say the alternate reality was purgatory does not answer any questions about the reality they existed in. What the heck was the island?
I don’t care if the experience on the island galvanized them relationally and provided the basis for their understanding of some sort of existential reality as they achieved enlightenment in a pseudo-purgatorial existence. That answers nothing about the experiences that they had. What about the time travel? What about Jacob? How did they get to the island? How does the island relate to the existence of the “real” world (since they maintained that it was the real world)?
To simply supply some sort of “well what is really meaningful is…” does not conclude anything. And my problem is not living in questions, nor is it with a story that has as its ultimate goal to enlighten existentially. This story was just poorly executed. Waiting for Godot, in its seeming meaninglessness, was at least a sustained effort to speak about existential reality and metaphysical conceptions. Lost was simply a sloppy science fiction story that needed an easy out. Don’t tell me that everything is meant to be put in proper context by the finale, that the events get proper perspective. They don’t. Life might get a certain perspective, but the “enlightenment” angle does not get them off the hook for a series that ultimately purported to be more than it was.
You may love the final conclusion. You may have thought it was beautiful in its explanation of reality. But, as a series, Lost is an epic failure.
Ok, I am taking a bit of a detour today. What was with that BS lost finale, and what is with the universal admiration of some sort of pop-philosophy purporting to divulge the true meaning of existence in a seemingly meaningful (though ultimately meaningless) chain of events in “reality”? Am I the only one that thinks it was the ultimate copout for a giant hole that was dug and never could be infused with actual meaning. OK, so they’re all dead, but they weren’t dead on the island. Let’s just side-step the continued significance of the islands ultimate meaning for the fate of the world. For 5 seasons (arguably most of the sixth as well) they played up the ultimate significance to the work on the island, and then in careless fashion devolved the significance of everything to the ultimate reality of life experienced and relationships gained. See the shift, it is from the significance of the island to human existence, and then this is ignored to say, “well what is really important is realizing the true nature of reality.”Several blogs have stated that if one was expecting to get the minutia answered you’ll be disappointed. That’s not even it. I’m not disappointed with there facile explanation of the numbers that reality didn’t touch the surface of the meaning the writers infused them with, or their inability to even discuss the “religious” rituals and cultus on the island. More importantly, they didn’t even answer what the island was. If they took the even easier way out and said it was purgatory, then at least that would be an answer. Of course that would have additionally been disappointing (especially since they said they wouldn’t do that). However, to just say the alternate reality was purgatory does not answer any questions about the reality they existed in. What the heck was the island?
I don’t care if the experience on the island galvanized them relationally and provided the basis for their understanding of some sort of existential reality as they achieved enlightenment in a pseudo-purgatorial existence. That answers nothing about the experiences that they had. What about the time travel? What about Jacob? How did they get to the island? How does the island relate to the existence of the “real” world (since they maintained that it was the real world)?
To simply supply some sort of “well what is really meaningful is…” does not conclude anything. And my problem is not living in questions, nor is it with a story that has as its ultimate goal to enlighten existentially. This story was just poorly executed. Waiting for Godot, in its seeming meaninglessness, was at least a sustained effort to speak about existential reality and metaphysical conceptions. Lost was simply a sloppy science fiction story that needed an easy out. Don’t tell me that everything is meant to be put in proper context by the finale, that the events get proper perspective. They don’t. Life might get a certain perspective, but the “enlightenment” angle does not get them off the hook for a series that ultimately purported to be more than it was.
You may love the final conclusion. You may have thought it was beautiful in its explanation of reality. But, as a series, Lost is an epic failure.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Performative Acts
So this week’s song is called “I’ll Fly Away” with a nod to the actual “I’ll Fly Away” at the end. I assume this is not copyright infringement, but as I was once reminded, there is no copyright infringement in the kingdom of God. I plan to get back to my moody, minor-chord-driven writing style soon, but until then, I kind of really like this song in its simplicity.
I’ll Fly Away
Download it: Here
* * * * * * *
Nothing too profound, I shaved my beard (which I have weird picture of the “before” to the left). It was a big decision for me for some reason. As a matter of fact, I consulted a number of people with no real consensus. There was something about the grizzly aesthetic that was appealing, but my overall decision was in line with what some of my friends called a “spring renewal,” a kind of “ritual.” In truth, I have a continued sense of the need for a little shake up and refocusing lately. Shaving my beard has become just one of several acts that I have adopted to spur some change.
I am a firm believer that tangible acts, though physical in their nature, are important aspects in the transformation of a life. It is not always in thinking yourself different or transformed that you become transformed. There is a profound power in the performance of an act of renewal. It is in the actual act of enacting a new reality that you become new. Baptism, for instance, is not simply telling others of some heart decision, it is in itself transformational. It is in the performance of personal death and resurrection, the performance of being washed under the seas of complete and utter separation and destruction and being raised into a new existence, that we appropriate a new reality. There is something much more powerful in “doing” than in “thinking.” Performance is not simply the result of thinking right, but the act is in fact one of the profoundest transformational realities.
Often, I think of the story of Abraham and Isaac, which has been the subject of countless reflection (below I put up another Marc Chagall rendition - I kind of love Marc Chagall). In the last 200 years, two notable examples are Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling and Derrida’s The Gift of Death. These works largely focused upon the ethics of this sacrifice. Kierkegaard, struggling over the universal wrong of commanding one to sacrifice his own son (his own progeny and, in a sense, Abraham’s own life), posited that God is allowed to have a “teleological suspension of the ethical” for his own purposes. There is of course the issue of postulating a “universal” ethic (he gave in far too much to Hegel in his polemic with him). Kierkegaard’s interpretation supposes that the sacrifice itself was simply the outward manifestation of a faith that Abraham had already demonstrated. “Testing” by God being something that demonstrates what we are already internally.
I would suggest (and this can be found elsewhere in the OT) that testing by God is not so much an outward manifestation of the true inward reality (which would be an existentialist error?); instead it is the performative act that is itself creative. It is in Abraham’s sacrifice of the promise that he was given that is in fact transformational. It is in the performance that we truly learn and are transformed by what we thought we knew but never really knew until we have lived that reality. With Abraham, this reality was profound. It is the destruction of the self in self-death in seeming hopelessness leaving only God as hope. In this same way, baptism is meant to be the performance of self-death.
All that to say: we do not know by our intellectual pursuits or our dire determination! Our acts of mental formulation in isolation will never teach us and change us as performative acts will, accompanying a desire for change with tangible acts. We don’t need to constantly rethink. We need to have our thinking changed. It is in fact our being and performing that is prior to our contemplation. It is a myth that our thinking is our primary transformational agent. I am hoping to experience change and transformation by offering a little rupture in my life, a different way of being in the world. Shaving my beard is the least of this, but it is one more performance.
Nothing too profound, I shaved my beard (which I have weird picture of the “before” to the left). It was a big decision for me for some reason. As a matter of fact, I consulted a number of people with no real consensus. There was something about the grizzly aesthetic that was appealing, but my overall decision was in line with what some of my friends called a “spring renewal,” a kind of “ritual.” In truth, I have a continued sense of the need for a little shake up and refocusing lately. Shaving my beard has become just one of several acts that I have adopted to spur some change.I am a firm believer that tangible acts, though physical in their nature, are important aspects in the transformation of a life. It is not always in thinking yourself different or transformed that you become transformed. There is a profound power in the performance of an act of renewal. It is in the actual act of enacting a new reality that you become new. Baptism, for instance, is not simply telling others of some heart decision, it is in itself transformational. It is in the performance of personal death and resurrection, the performance of being washed under the seas of complete and utter separation and destruction and being raised into a new existence, that we appropriate a new reality. There is something much more powerful in “doing” than in “thinking.” Performance is not simply the result of thinking right, but the act is in fact one of the profoundest transformational realities.
Often, I think of the story of Abraham and Isaac, which has been the subject of countless reflection (below I put up another Marc Chagall rendition - I kind of love Marc Chagall). In the last 200 years, two notable examples are Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling and Derrida’s The Gift of Death. These works largely focused upon the ethics of this sacrifice. Kierkegaard, struggling over the universal wrong of commanding one to sacrifice his own son (his own progeny and, in a sense, Abraham’s own life), posited that God is allowed to have a “teleological suspension of the ethical” for his own purposes. There is of course the issue of postulating a “universal” ethic (he gave in far too much to Hegel in his polemic with him). Kierkegaard’s interpretation supposes that the sacrifice itself was simply the outward manifestation of a faith that Abraham had already demonstrated. “Testing” by God being something that demonstrates what we are already internally.
I would suggest (and this can be found elsewhere in the OT) that testing by God is not so much an outward manifestation of the true inward reality (which would be an existentialist error?); instead it is the performative act that is itself creative. It is in Abraham’s sacrifice of the promise that he was given that is in fact transformational. It is in the performance that we truly learn and are transformed by what we thought we knew but never really knew until we have lived that reality. With Abraham, this reality was profound. It is the destruction of the self in self-death in seeming hopelessness leaving only God as hope. In this same way, baptism is meant to be the performance of self-death. All that to say: we do not know by our intellectual pursuits or our dire determination! Our acts of mental formulation in isolation will never teach us and change us as performative acts will, accompanying a desire for change with tangible acts. We don’t need to constantly rethink. We need to have our thinking changed. It is in fact our being and performing that is prior to our contemplation. It is a myth that our thinking is our primary transformational agent. I am hoping to experience change and transformation by offering a little rupture in my life, a different way of being in the world. Shaving my beard is the least of this, but it is one more performance.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Band Practice with the Trees
School is catching up with me. So I haven’t had time to write an original this week, but I have a backlog of songs for just this occasion. This song I wrote 3 and half years ago after my first full summer in Philadelphia.
You Are a Glove
Download it: Here
* * * * * * *
I have been getting up early these days. Not of my own accord, but I can’t wake up early two days a week and have my body think that it should sleep in on the rest of the time. So generally I make some coffee and sit out on the back balcony. I may have one of the best balconies in my apartment. Some people have to share their balcony with people from other apartments (and their balconies are significantly smaller than mine as well). However, since my studio apartment is on the corner of the building, I have a giant balcony that wraps around the corner of the building, and I have it all to myself. There is a wonderful view of the mountains and the rows of tall palm trees that line the streets of Pasadena. Seeing the palm trees conquering over there commercial center from a distance is far more comforting than walking among them amidst the hustle and bustle.
The trees are incredibly calming to me. I can see why Paul talks of those who have put there trust in the creation rather than the creator. There is a certain tranquility and transcendence that one experiences in the calmness of the morning enjoying the trees’ subtle sway (though of course sun and rain likely had more impact on the daily lives of the people Paul was referencing). But I like to think of Isaiah 55 (and maybe that Sufjan Stevens song). Isaiah 55 is an amazingly hopeful segment of promise... “Come all you who are thirsty…”
You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands (Isa 55:12, NIV).
I like to sit in the stillness and imagine that the subtle sway of the trees is a warming up for future rejoicing. They have a show coming up and they are practicing for the coming of peace and wholeness. It may be silly, but so much of the world is what we allow ourselves to see. I like to think that I am in friendly competition with the trees. They are warming up their praise, and I don’t want to be undone. I am thankful for the days that my heart is warming up along with them (or the term Paul uses splagchna, which roughly translates as “emotional organs,” Phlm 12 [intestines?]. Let my intestines sing! Let whatever sing). The trees remind me as walk throughout the day to always be thankful, not because of what they are, but who sustains them. I’m waiting to hear what it sounds like when the mountains just to my right break out in song (though this is California, so I hope it doesn’t resemble and earthquake).
I have been getting up early these days. Not of my own accord, but I can’t wake up early two days a week and have my body think that it should sleep in on the rest of the time. So generally I make some coffee and sit out on the back balcony. I may have one of the best balconies in my apartment. Some people have to share their balcony with people from other apartments (and their balconies are significantly smaller than mine as well). However, since my studio apartment is on the corner of the building, I have a giant balcony that wraps around the corner of the building, and I have it all to myself. There is a wonderful view of the mountains and the rows of tall palm trees that line the streets of Pasadena. Seeing the palm trees conquering over there commercial center from a distance is far more comforting than walking among them amidst the hustle and bustle.
The trees are incredibly calming to me. I can see why Paul talks of those who have put there trust in the creation rather than the creator. There is a certain tranquility and transcendence that one experiences in the calmness of the morning enjoying the trees’ subtle sway (though of course sun and rain likely had more impact on the daily lives of the people Paul was referencing). But I like to think of Isaiah 55 (and maybe that Sufjan Stevens song). Isaiah 55 is an amazingly hopeful segment of promise... “Come all you who are thirsty…”
You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands (Isa 55:12, NIV).
I like to sit in the stillness and imagine that the subtle sway of the trees is a warming up for future rejoicing. They have a show coming up and they are practicing for the coming of peace and wholeness. It may be silly, but so much of the world is what we allow ourselves to see. I like to think that I am in friendly competition with the trees. They are warming up their praise, and I don’t want to be undone. I am thankful for the days that my heart is warming up along with them (or the term Paul uses splagchna, which roughly translates as “emotional organs,” Phlm 12 [intestines?]. Let my intestines sing! Let whatever sing). The trees remind me as walk throughout the day to always be thankful, not because of what they are, but who sustains them. I’m waiting to hear what it sounds like when the mountains just to my right break out in song (though this is California, so I hope it doesn’t resemble and earthquake).
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Oh, Brother! Life is not a Movie!
I’m digging this track… and today it relates to the reflection! I put some lap steel down for the first time. It’s pretty simple but I like it. Check it out. The harmonies are kind of cool too.
Oh, Sister!
Download it: Here
* * * * * * *
Oh! Brother. Life is not a movie.
Trying to take that one in a lot lately. I have been a planner. Sometimes planning some things at the expense of other things or people (a hard lesson to learn), but always with a goal. Life has a way of disrupting those goals. Life has a way of disrupting the way you think things should be. You make mistakes along the way. You learn your lessons. You swear you can fix everything that you’ve broken and that the world is malleable to your own will. But, what a lesson to learn that it’s not! to take your punches and role with it.
It’s a lesson in learning something about stories. First, you learn, as much as you thought you realized it, that the world isn’t your story. There are lots of stories, and lots of people. Their stories are not yours to manipulate.
Further, putting your story of life as the pinnacle ultimately leads to disappointment. To be sure you are a part of a bigger story, but it is not all about you. Take your lumps, learn your lessons, and see how you can move on and not make those same mistakes again. We are not condemned to relive them. You may not get to apply your lessons the way you want, but new life springs and you can live your story there and as part of a bigger story. It is helpful to have perspective.
In Colossians 1, Paul makes the statement that the suffering that he has gone through for those believers is really filling up that which is lacking in Christ’s suffering. Sounds maybe arrogant or controversial. But it does give some perspective. The story isn’t over! We are living something bigger. This does not discount our stories, but they are part of that bigger story.
Take your lumps. Learn your lessons. Live them out in the ways that life allows you. You may not get to reconcile the things you want (even if you think you can make everything better... sometimes it isn't up to just you), and that may just be a hard lesson. Life doesn’t always go the way you want. But there is a bigger story, and it is in the continual living in the suffering and resurrection. There is new life and love and hope and opportunities. Maybe not in the way you wanted (it may cause you to reprioritize everything) but new life springs up when you least expect it!
* * * * * * *
Also I am playing a sort set Friday at the “El Molino” house @ 8. If you live in LA, come out! If you live elsewhere, fly out! - 871 n el Molino, Pasadena, CA.
Oh! Brother. Life is not a movie.
Trying to take that one in a lot lately. I have been a planner. Sometimes planning some things at the expense of other things or people (a hard lesson to learn), but always with a goal. Life has a way of disrupting those goals. Life has a way of disrupting the way you think things should be. You make mistakes along the way. You learn your lessons. You swear you can fix everything that you’ve broken and that the world is malleable to your own will. But, what a lesson to learn that it’s not! to take your punches and role with it.
It’s a lesson in learning something about stories. First, you learn, as much as you thought you realized it, that the world isn’t your story. There are lots of stories, and lots of people. Their stories are not yours to manipulate.
Further, putting your story of life as the pinnacle ultimately leads to disappointment. To be sure you are a part of a bigger story, but it is not all about you. Take your lumps, learn your lessons, and see how you can move on and not make those same mistakes again. We are not condemned to relive them. You may not get to apply your lessons the way you want, but new life springs and you can live your story there and as part of a bigger story. It is helpful to have perspective.
In Colossians 1, Paul makes the statement that the suffering that he has gone through for those believers is really filling up that which is lacking in Christ’s suffering. Sounds maybe arrogant or controversial. But it does give some perspective. The story isn’t over! We are living something bigger. This does not discount our stories, but they are part of that bigger story.
Take your lumps. Learn your lessons. Live them out in the ways that life allows you. You may not get to reconcile the things you want (even if you think you can make everything better... sometimes it isn't up to just you), and that may just be a hard lesson. Life doesn’t always go the way you want. But there is a bigger story, and it is in the continual living in the suffering and resurrection. There is new life and love and hope and opportunities. Maybe not in the way you wanted (it may cause you to reprioritize everything) but new life springs up when you least expect it!
Also I am playing a sort set Friday at the “El Molino” house @ 8. If you live in LA, come out! If you live elsewhere, fly out! - 871 n el Molino, Pasadena, CA.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Sing It All Together!!
This week's song is especially dear to my heart for a couple reasons. It’s meant to be a lament but ends with perspective and a bit of joy. I’m feeling a bit of the latter lately. Maybe it is the sunshine (which always helps), but reflection and new perspective gives birth to new hope. Secondly, I had a lot of fun recording the rough background vocals in the second half of the song. In alphabetical order, Jeana and Mike Master, Lauren and Matt Meares, and Christina Miller were kind enough to be my background singers. I added a little outtake from an attempt to do a sound check at the end. I’m not sure that they thought I would add this, but it was so (almost obnoxiously) cute I had to add it. I hope you enjoy it. It kind of makes me smile… but don’t let the sappiness drive you away!
What We've Done
Download it: Here
I don’t want to add too much this week in terms of reflection, but what this song reflects is a general impression I have of the family of God. I often make the statement that my faith is really often dependent much more on community than most people would ever want to admit. I don’t mean this in some sort of strange unhealthy dependency. Each person is not a single ship floating in a turbulent sea. However, often when my own “individual” faith is in straights, I have been able to lean on my community, my brothers and sisters, and this has not been a cop out or a counterfeit faith; we share our faith. We are there for each other when we need it. My faith isn’t a single line directly connected with God alone. If it were, I may have given up a long time ago. I like often to speak of our faith. There is a personal dimension, but it is only personal within a family. How sad to work out your faith only in your existential suffering. Instead bring your existential suffering to your brothers and sisters.
There have been ample reasons for me to believe that I have the best family (and I think kinship language is an important designation) in the world. Both in California and Philadelphia (and DC and wherever Bradley James is at the moment), our faith is truly being lived out together in a concrete way. A faith that creates and transforms each other in a mutual self-giving love. Those who care about me truly show they care, and I have been lucky enough to care for them in return when I can. Acts of kindness and compassion, time and love, are truly an act of faith and the working of faith among us.
I have also become fonder of designating people sister and brother lately. Of course that can become formal, but don’t let it. Share your love and kindness and truly love each other.
Sing it all together!
-T Dubs.
I don’t want to add too much this week in terms of reflection, but what this song reflects is a general impression I have of the family of God. I often make the statement that my faith is really often dependent much more on community than most people would ever want to admit. I don’t mean this in some sort of strange unhealthy dependency. Each person is not a single ship floating in a turbulent sea. However, often when my own “individual” faith is in straights, I have been able to lean on my community, my brothers and sisters, and this has not been a cop out or a counterfeit faith; we share our faith. We are there for each other when we need it. My faith isn’t a single line directly connected with God alone. If it were, I may have given up a long time ago. I like often to speak of our faith. There is a personal dimension, but it is only personal within a family. How sad to work out your faith only in your existential suffering. Instead bring your existential suffering to your brothers and sisters.There have been ample reasons for me to believe that I have the best family (and I think kinship language is an important designation) in the world. Both in California and Philadelphia (and DC and wherever Bradley James is at the moment), our faith is truly being lived out together in a concrete way. A faith that creates and transforms each other in a mutual self-giving love. Those who care about me truly show they care, and I have been lucky enough to care for them in return when I can. Acts of kindness and compassion, time and love, are truly an act of faith and the working of faith among us.
I have also become fonder of designating people sister and brother lately. Of course that can become formal, but don’t let it. Share your love and kindness and truly love each other.
Sing it all together!
-T Dubs.
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