Interruptions

I often have an extremely difficult time focusing on one thing at a time. In fact, it’s almost impossible for me to do. Well. Not impossible. But, not very easy.

One reason for that is because my life is filled with interruptions. My interruptions have interruptions. And those interruptions have even more. And you hope you don’t lose the thing you were doing at first, which you do. And it can be troubling.

Then, there’s just the fact that I have a hard time focusing on one thing at a time, even though I know I’d get things done much faster. Or, I think I would. But I do get a lot done. Maybe too much? In fact, that might be a problem too.

Well. Maybe not. But...

One thing I like about recording music is that you get to put on a pair of headphones. You have to wear them to record. You get your playback through the headphones, add in what you’re playing at the moment, and it all plays out for you in those headphones. I finally got four matching pair. I didn’t realize the importance of this until we were mixing the Christmas recording. We were sitting around, four people listening, making comments, and I realized we were hearing four very different mixes because the headphones didn’t match.

Duh.

And while I was putting some things away, I was distracted from the task as I was leafing through a little note pad my youngest daughter had been using to draw pictures in. We’ve discovered she’s quite the little artist. But, anyway, on one of the pages was written the following:

“I have a nice family. I have a mom and a dad. I have 2 good sisters. A very, very good family!”

The exclamation point at the end was a drawn one. It was very, very large and filled in with ink.

So, I guess what I’m saying is: sometimes the interruptions are the thing.


Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Busy?

Wow. Almost forgot about the blog thing.

I’ve been so active.

Does that word work? “Active?” It doesn’t really work, but I’m a little tired of the word “busy.” Everyone says they are “busy.” It can mean anything. Watching TV. Playing video games for hours on end. Whatever leaves us out of time is what makes us busy. “I’ve been so busy.”

Doing what?

I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been playing video games or goofing around. I’ve been active. Which, it dawns on me, is a word often used for old people who aren’t bed ridden.

Hmmm.

I’ve been doing stuff on the house, accomplishing the holiday festivities, gearing things up for the coming year by getting new calenders going and plans in place. I have seen a few movies to try to relax.

Drinking coffee.

There’s just so much to do these days.

And I don’t think it’s going to let up for quite a while. But I’m okay with that. I like being...

Non sedentary?




Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Piles

I’ve been very busy. Nuttily busy. Life makes piles, miles and miles of piles, and I try to clean them up.

Verily.

Working on a big music project. Trying to get some preplanning for my work and family done for the coming months. Trying to do waaaaaay overdue cleaning and organizing. Trying to figure out how we’re going to get through the Christmas season without losing my mind.

It’s hard to keep track of things. And I don’t really like having so much on the table at once. It unsettles me. But what can you do?

Jesus said, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

As always. He’s right.

Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Juggling

One of my kids, last Christmas, received a kit for learning how to juggle. It has a book and different items for juggling. Scarfs, small cloth balls, that kind of thing. I started reading the book and trying to show the kids how to juggle. And here’s what we’ve learned so far:

Juggling is hard.

Juggling is a set of learned motions that have to be repeated over and over again. It’s the routine that makes it work. The routine of the motions and the routine of the things you’re trying to juggle with. You get used to that thing, the shape, the feel, which is what makes it work. This is why it’s so amazing to see someone juggling different items with different shapes and weights. Sometimes you see a pro juggler juggling a bowling pin with a cup and some other odd weight thing, and it’s pretty impressive because we all seem to know that the imbalance is what makes it tough.

I’ve found that I’m not very good at juggling. I work hard at it, but it doesn't come naturally to me. Which is no surprise. I’m simply not good at it. Literally and figuratively. At least, not with the amount of things I’m constantly trying to juggle. Too many things, too many shapes, too many weights. People toss things up in the air with the full expectation that I will somehow just take it into my loop. And when I start dropping things I can feel pretty guilty. It’s difficult to juggle all of the things life throws at us. But juggling is necessary if we're going to live life.

When I see people who are good at juggling, it’s often true that they’re good at it because they juggle the right things. They’re selective. Balanced. They know the feel of what they’re keeping up in the air. They have the motions down pat. And it impresses me. But I can’t seem to narrow things down like that. It’s a weakness. There’s so much that needs to be done and it’s hard to be at peace when things are incomplete.

Sometimes you’ll see two people juggling together. It’s really amazing. One time I saw three or four jugglers all together. They can keep so much up in the air. It’s such a clear image of teamwork. There’s so much skill in passing things off from one person to another. But most people never think of stepping in like that. They look at you, juggling your heart out, with an empty expression and basically say, “Sorry. I don’t juggle. I just don’t. But I like watching you do it!”

Juggling really is hard. And it can be a lonely business.



Peace to you.




© LW Publishing 2011

Chicken

When I was in university, I took some philosophy classes and I enjoyed it. A lot. Everything just clicked. And one of my philosophy profs noticed my, shall we say, “acumen,” in this area, so he took me aside and suggested I become a philosophy major. He said I was a “natural.”

Well, after the swelling in my head went down, I kept trying to picture myself as a philosopher.

“So, Dave, what do you do for a living?”

“Who me? Well, I’m a philosopher.”

“No, seriously, what do you do for a living?”

“I am being serious. I’m a philosopher!”

“No really, I want to know what you do for a liv-ing.”

I just couldn’t picture it. The only thing I could envision was, perhaps, teaching philosophy, which didn’t seem very exciting. But, later, I realized that the issue was more that I was afraid to commit to doing anything that seemed too, well, I suppose “responsible” is the right word.  I was afraid to take my abilities seriously and put them to meaningful use. I was chicken.

And I see a lot of other people struggle with this same kind of thing. We doubt ourselves. We wonder if we’re strong enough or talented enough or smart enough, even when people affirm our strengths.

Moving forward isn’t so easy for some of us. To move forward, sometimes we have to let go of things we’ve been infatuated with for one reason or another. “I always wanted to be an astronaut but, for some strange reason, they just aren’t accepting 6 foot 7 English majors with no flight experience into the program!” And, ultimately, we have to be willing to try. As trite as it sounds, Yoda was wrong: if you want to do something, you need to try to do it. Maybe you aren’t smart enough or talented enough or responsible enough for some things, but you won’t know until you try. See what happens. Who knows, maybe you’ll discover that you aren’t cut out for some things. Big deal.

Then again. Maybe you’ll find out that there’s more to you than you thought.

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”
Vincent van Gogh

1 Corinthians 14:12
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011

Hands

When I woke up this morning, I was laying on my left side and my left arm was sticking out from under me, numb and tingly, as usual. But the light was coming in from the window, glowing on my hand, and I realized for a moment what an amazing piece of art it is.

Yes, my hand, but not just my hand. Any hand.

If we’re going to vote for the most amazing hand in history, I might give the award to Stevie Ray Vaughan’s left hand. I’m sure others would give the award to Michael Jordan’s right hand, or maybe both of Michael Angelo’s hands. Or how about Thomas Edison’s hands? Or, hands down, we could give the award to the hands of Jesus.

I suggest you take a moment and stare at your hands. Move them around. Stretch them. Notice the complexity. There is an elegance to the construction of a hand that defies explanation.

Watch the hands of a dancer. See how the hands move in concert with the body. Even though the hands are at the extremity of the body, somehow they inform and guide the motions of a dancer.

Now, I’m no dancer, but I do public speaking, which requires a lot of typing for outlines and drafts and editing. I also play guitar and drums and some keys. I write a lot of music, which I usually do on guitar. It’s how I figure things out. And it’s all about the hands. I often “find” songs by feeling around the progressions for the right thing.

So tomorrow, I will have one of my hands sliced open to fix it. Down the road I get to have the other one done too. It’s actually a pretty minor surgery, but people keep asking me if I’m nervous about it. And I don’t think I am. But I might be. I lie to myself all the time. Not on purpose. It’s a coping thing. But I really don’t think I’m nervous about it. It’s just that there’s a weight to this event for me. I’m learning a new appreciation, and that’s almost always a good thing.

I am thankful for my hands.


Psalm 139:14
Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2011

Mechanic

I was forced by circumstances, once again, to be a mechanic yesterday. The battery died on the better half’s car. At first we thought it was the starter, but we cleverly deduced it was the battery with the help of a heapum good friend.

So, you think to yourself, “Changing a battery. How hard could it be?”

Well. I’m writing this right now as a way of releasing the stress in order to not harm myself physically or otherwise due to the trauma of the experience.

Just kidding. Mostly.

I don’t know what it is with me and cars. It’s like a curse really. It costs a fortune to have them fixed, and we don’t have a fortune, so sometimes I have to do it. And I know how to do a few things, theoretically, but just changing a battery these days requires the removal of bars and clips and electrical boxes with hidden screws and levers that all get in the way and make you want to pull your hair out.

I also have this talent for having EVERY wrench, screw driver or socket size known to mankind except, of course, the specific one I need to do the job. That particular tool will just not be there. Just. Not. So I have to drive up to the hardware store several times to buy (spend more hard earned money on) this tool or that one, which will somehow disappear again the next time I have to work on the car. I drop things constantly -- sockets, screws, my patience -- into the engine compartment, where they mystically disappear, as if into thin air, resulting in an additional hour spent fruitlessly searching for what was dropped. I cut myself and have a hard time with the small screws and such because of my Carpal Tunnel syndrome. And my back starts to hurt from all the bending over because, you know, I don’t have any of that fancy work on your car stuff that some people have.

I am not exaggerating any of this. I’m completely serious. It’s a predictable nightmare every time.

The only thing I can figure is:

1. God doesn’t want me working on my car.
2. God wants me working on my car so I can learn patience.
3. God just needs a laugh once in a while, so he breaks my car down to watch what I do.

Frankly, the only one that appeals to me is option three. I am willing to do it if it makes God laugh.


Romans 11:34-36
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2010

Three People

It’s interesting to me, the impact some people can have on my life in just a short time. Big things and small, but still an impact.

A long time ago, my friend Gary managed to get me hired in as a temporary worker at the post office. It was a ninety day thing or something like that. Short term work for students.

The thing was, this post office job required me to get up at some ungodly hour. I don’t remember exactly, four or five in the morning, so we could get the mail unloaded off the trucks and in position for the mail delivery people to sort and slot and pack into their bags. It was too early for me. I was barely coherent.

On that job, in just ninety days, three people really made an impression on me.

The first was a woman who was angry. At me. All the time. Why? I have no idea, but she hated me. It was clear. She made it clear every time she spoke to me. I don’t know what I did, but I think I responded pretty well. I didn’t get mad. I didn’t yell back. I smiled and I was kind and I just wondered why she was so upset. I didn’t let it get to me and I worked hard and got things done.

Maybe that’s why she hated me.

The second person was a young woman who was deaf. She was amazing. She did not let her disability slow her down. She talked with people and made jokes and clearly enjoyed being alive. It was inspiring. She started to show me sign language, but I was slow at picking it up, considering we had to actually work while we were there. But I did learn a few things.

She taught me how to say my name in sign language.

The third person was a young guy who was a temporary like me. I’m not sure, but I think he was Italian. I don’t know. But he had a slight accent that was kind of endearing in a way. I don’t think he was from Italy. It was more like his parents were from Italy (or wherever it was) and he had picked up on their accent. But, anyway, he was a political science major and he always, ALWAYS, had a good attitude. I don’t know how he did it, but every morning he’d walk in the door and move around from person to person saying loudly, with cheer, “Goot morning!” Which, at first, was a little too much. But as time went on I began to admire him. I admired his positive attitude and good nature. I wanted to be more like that.

Nowadays, if I show up somewhere in the morning, you might hear me say, “Goot morning!”  I say it just like he did. And this is in honor of him. It’s a remembrance. A stab at being more cheerful, like I should be.

All of this to say: Don’t underestimate your impact on people. The little things matter. The little things make an impression, they make a difference. And just imagine the difference you can make in people’s lives if you really try.

Seriously. Imagine.


Matthew 13:31-32
Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2010

End of Summer

The end of summer is a strong emotional time for me. Not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s because it feels like a time of change and transition, moving on to other things. Maybe it’s partly because of the trends of life, work and school.

Or it could just be the weather.

On one hand, I feel fresh and ready for what’s ahead, excited a little over the idea that there is new opportunity for change and growth. The fall and winter are work times, productive times, times to put wings on my hope for something better.

On the other hand, I feel a sense of loss. The past year seems to end for me here. Not on December 31st, like it should, but at the end of August when summer comes to a close. This time with my wife and kids and friends, it's behind us. It's gone now, and the only way to move is forward.

And yet, the fall is one of my favorite times of year.  I treasure this cool, sweatshirt wearing, leaves changing colors, time between summer and the winter that I could do without. The fall is the transition, the get ready for the ice age. And in Michigan, where I live, the fall is all too short sometimes. Winter seems to come at us like a starving carnivore, wanting to devour the warmth and sun.

The end of summer has been filled with some painful revelations and challenges. Several people I love have discovered that they aren’t as healthy as they thought they were. I'll be at the hospital all day Tuesday with my sister who is in for cancer surgery. It makes me sick to think of her going through this, but I can do nothing about it except pray and try to be there for her. The winter ahead could be very difficult.

Some of the people I love are enduring great loss. The past year has been a hard one for so many people. Life isn’t what they expected. It has hit them hard while they weren't looking and taken the wind out of them. Some of them are working hard to just breathe again. And on top of these kinds of things, my kids are getting older. They aren’t really “little” children anymore. So the house is changing. The dynamic is different, and we all have to find our place in the new environment.

For me personally, heading into this fall and winter, there are a lot of things that need to change, a lot that needs to be done. Personally, professionally, and in my home. But I think I’m ready.

Back to work. Hup, hup, hup.






Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010

Laying Down Tracks

I’ve been doing some recording. Finally. I have a hard earned set up for recording my songs so I can at least try to submit them to publishers. And I have to say that it’s really been fun so far. I have great friends helping me lay down the tracks, and they are doing a fantastic job. Things are going very slow, but fairly smooth. I only have a few hours a week to work on this stuff.

When you commit yourself to recording, and doing it as right as possible, it is also very hard work. You have to listen to it over and over ad nauseam. And you have to be very precise. You discover very quickly what your limitations are, as long as you have the ears to hear it. The recording doesn’t lie. It doesn’t try to flatter you. If what you played is good, it tells you that. If what you played is off, it tells you that. It is totally honest.

Kind of like a good friend. Maybe.

There are times in the process when I wish the recording would just be better than it is. I wish it would lie to me. I want to hit playback and somehow that fret buzz would disappear or that note would be spot on instead of being slightly off. But it IS slightly off, so I do it again. Almost there. Slightly off again in a different spot. Do it again. Slightly off somewhere else. Arrrrrrrrrrge!

Sure, there are tools for smoothing things out, and even the best of the pros use them, but they cost MONEEEY. And usually lots of it. But the thing is, there has to be some talent and precision there in the first place or you just end up with a mess no matter what. And don’t even get me started on what it takes to actually write a “good” song. Despite what you may have heard, the music business is not full of talentless people who are manufactured into presentability by studio tricks. Small imperfections and issues can be smoothed out, but garbage in almost always equals garbage out.

Kind of like life.

Some of the people working with me are in other bands that you might like. Check ‘em out if you’re interested...

My friend Greg is in a great cover band called “Ultra Violet.” They play around town. He also has a band called “Strawberry Alternative” doing his own songs. You can check that out here...

strawberryalternative.com

My friend Tom is in a few bands too. The one that plays out a lot is called “A Hundred Miles.” You can check them out at...

ahundredmilesmusic.com




Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2010

The Work of Art

There are at least two basic theories about creativity that you hear articulated in different ways by different people.

Theory #1: One theory is that a person creates something out of nothing. Sort of – poof – and they have some new idea or some new song or some new thing. They feel that what they have come up with came out of nowhere.

Theory #2: And then there is the theory that a person creates something out of a kajillion things that they can’t even necessarily understand. The mind is full of puzzle pieces that life has tossed in there, and somehow the mind or the spirit or both begin putting the pieces together until the picture starts to make sense.

I am a theory #2 person. To my way of thinking, only God is a theory #1 person. So I go with #2, and the reason is that I can sense the puzzle pieces floating around within me and in the world. I can sense when they are starting to connect. My job is to do things to help them connect. In my mind, that is the “work” of an artist. To develop the skills that enable you to bring about these connections.

If I’m right about this, it suggests that if you want to be “creative” and you’re waiting for some sudden flash of insight from out of nowhere, you’re not likely to create very much. And if you want to be creative, but you don’t train yourself to do the work necessary to put the pieces together, then I don’t think you’ll produce much either.

Art is not for sissies.

Being creative means developing skills. It’s about craft. Songs, poems, stories, needlepoint, paintings, relationships, cars – whatever – the created thing has to be crafted in one way or another. Albert Einstein did not wake up one morning with the theory of Relativity bouncing around in his head. He agonized over it for a long, long time. He found pieces of the puzzle in the work of other scientists, which he added to other pieces he observed in everyday life. He had to develop his math skills because it wasn’t his strong suit, and he knew he’d need to get the math right to present the theory. He pressed pieces thinking they would fit, but they didn’t, so he had to keep looking. Finally, he managed to put it together. He didn’t create a law of nature. He painted it into his mind and into the minds of other people. Well. A few people. The rest of us just scratch our heads.

But the point is the same. Every work of art takes work. You have to do the work. To my way of thinking, that includes your stories, your paintings, your children, your spouse, your church, your songs, your movies, your theories on life and death, your work, your play . . . everything.

Life is an art.



Colossians 3:23-24

Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010