The Woman Who Loved Me Back

I fell in love with so many girls along the way. One or two of them said they loved me, but I scared all of them away.

But in 2013, a woman worked her way into my life, and wouldn't run away. She saw me. She saw my weakness, my flaws, my shortcomings; she saw my potential, and chose me. She chose me, and I was terrified. I was smitten the moment I saw her, but I hid it. No one had ever loved me back.

Not long after we started dating, a blizzard gave us both a day off, and I trudged 12 blocks through the sometimes hip-deep snow to spend a the day with her. During the hike I became anxious; fearing that I was once more going to chase this girl off, I was frantically telling myself I was going too far. "What are you doing?" I asked myself. "You hardly know her. This is all going too fast. You need to slow it down. You need to tell her that we should slow down. Make clear that you still want to be with her, but tell her it's moving too fast." Each step toward her I grew more anxious, knowing what I had to do.

But she opened the door and smiled at me, and every fear melted away. I knew I couldn't let this one go. No one ever made me feel this kind peace and confidence. 

On the first of March, 2014, I married her. God supplied me with the woman I never realized I needed. The woman who will put up with me at my worst, but won't be satisfied until I am my best. The woman who will challenge me when I need it--and, oh boy, do I need it. She saw exactly who I was, and she chose me in spite of it. She saw my potential as my identity, and has only helped me to realize it. She has lifted me up, built me into a better, stronger, more responsible man. She loves me in ways I didn't even know were love. She loves me sacrificially and selflessly. And her voice and her smile are still a source of comfort to sooth all my deepest fears.

But I have not repaid her with the same kind of love. I have not helped her like she helped me. I have not worked for our life like she has. And if there is one thing I've learned, it's that love is more than a choice; love is more than sacrifice; love is work. Marriage is work; marriage is hard; and no one works harder than she does. Even when it hurts, she works. And I've never truly loved her well.

But I've never truly loved anyone else. Marriage is hard work, and I would never choose to work this hard with anyone else. I can't imagine this kind of toil or struggle with any of my past "loves." This toil is rewarded by my extraordinary Love, and my Love could never be replaced.

She is the first woman I loved, and she is the woman who loved me back.

The First Night of Our Life

A little over five years ago, I allowed two teenage girls to annoy me into meeting their speech coach.

I could tell we didn't have much in common, but I wanted to get these girls off my back and I thought, "What's there to lose?"

Thankfully, she had better sense and stood her ground, insisting that she wasn't interested. Instead, another coach said she was interested, and persuaded these girls that she was, in fact, a much better option for me. So we made contact on Facebook.

Through our chats I found her to be easy to talk to, and we actually shared similar interests. I realized I desperately wanted to meet her and get to know her better. So, as clearly and emphatically as I could manage, I made sure she knew it.

So there I was, five years ago exactly, sitting in my usual bar, on my usual stool, on my usual night, drinking a Shallow Mud Rye stout, watching the door closely waiting for something most unusual to happen. And there she was.

If you shake your head at romantic movies when a girl walks into a bar and the crowd parts and a light shines only on her, you're just like me. But that is exactly what happened. My breath caught in my throat, my heart stopped. Eager to demonstrate my excitement, I swallowed hard and casually smiled and waved her over. She came over to the stool I was pretending not to have saved for her, and, in order to further prove my interest, said in a friendly and indifferent tone, "Hi."

We finished the pleasantries, she ordered a Strawberry Wheat, and we proceeded to talk. It was the easiest, most comfortable evening I remember having with anyone. She was charming, kind, and beautiful. She had the sweetest, most pleasant voice and it eased every nerve in my body. We talked and talked and before we knew it, it was time to part ways.

I was enamored. I couldn't wait to see her again. I wanted to ask her immediately. I was so thrilled that I texted her first thing the next day.

Since that night, everything and nothing has changed. She is charming, kind, and her voice soothes my deepest anxieties, worries, and stress. She is passionate and strong willed, and challenges me in all the ways I never knew I needed. She is my best friend, my confidant, and the love of my life. This night was the first day I truly started growing up and without her I would still be a child.

This was the first night of our life.

Bradley Hathaway's "How Long."

Bradley Hathaway's newest release, How Long, is a wonderful blend of melancholy and joy, sound and lyric, and a must-listen.

How Long

From opening track to closing, this work has no difficulty holding the listener's ear; between the fusion of folk and blues sounds and the heartfelt introspection in the lyrics there is so much complexity that each listen feels new, and yet familiar.

Throughout, it feels like a dream or half forgotten memory, like a recollection of a life once lived; it is an introspective work, meditating on a past both difficult and happy, with both joy and mourning for the good times, now gone. While it feels like a description of one life, each song is the ballad of a different person's search for comfort in this mess of a world.

Evoking both moods of searching restlessness and deep comfort, this record may be the most satisfying musical work I've heard this year.

One listen to the title track, and I will be surprised if you are not motivated to hear the rest.


How Long is available on Tuesday, November 5, and can be pre-ordered on Bradley Hathaway's Bandcamp page, and you can see what else he's up to on Facebook.

Life (of the soul) begins before conception

        “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
and before you were born I consecrated you..."

Jeremiah 1:5a

For you formed my inward parts:

you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

Psalm 139:13-16

       My substance, when hid in the womb, nay, when it was yet but in fieri–in the forming, an unshapen embryo, was not hidden from thee; thy eyes did see my substance. [...] As the eye of God saw us then, so his hand wrought us; we were his work. [...] In [God's] book all my members were written. Eternal wisdom formed the plan, and by that almighty power raised the noble structure.

        [...] The generation of man is to be considered with the same pious veneration as his creation at first. Consider it, as a great marvel, a great miracle we might call it, but that it is done in the ordinary course of nature. We are fearfully and wonderfully made; we may justly be astonished at the admirable contrivance of these living temples, the composition of every part, and the harmony of all together. As a great mystery, a mystery of nature: My soul knows right well that it is marvelous, but how to describe it for any one else I know not; for I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the womb as in the lowest parts of the earth, so privately, and so far out of sight. As a great mercy, that all our members in continuance were fashioned, according as they were written in the book of God's wise counsel, when as yet there was none of them...

Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible – Psalm 139:13-16

        Humanity begins before conception.

        The Human soul is eternal, and God assigned a life, a body to our soul long before the physical was even imagined by the human mind. While the soul is eternal, it is not recycled; we do not float around in the cosmos awaiting the availability of a body; nor does each soul occupy more than one body; while the created soul awaits the body created for it, the soul is not queued up waiting its turn to occupy any random body that may need filling, and there is not battle between souls for an unoccupied body – each body is occupied by a specific, distinct soul, and each soul occupies one distinct body, and that body is occupied from the moment the egg is fertilized in the mother's womb. A soul's value is not defined by the status or circumstance into which it is born, nor is it defined by the value assigned by the parents. Each soul is valuable and worth saving, whether it be handicapped, unexpected, or unwanted, or even on the brink of death.

        Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

James 1:27

        Visiting is here put for all manner of relief which we are capable of giving to others; and fatherless and widows are here particularly mentioned, because they are generally most apt to be neglected or oppressed: but by them we are to understand all who are proper objects of charity, all who are in affliction. It is very remarkable that if the sum of religion be drawn up to two articles this is one–to be charitable and relieve the afflicted. 

Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible – James 1:27*

        But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

1 John 3:17-18*

Did not he who made me in the womb make him?
And did not one fashion us in the womb? 

If I have withheld anything that the poor desired, 
or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail, 

or have eaten my morsel alone,
 and the fatherless has not eaten of it 

(for from my youth the fatherless grew up with me as with a father, 
and from my mother’s womb I guided the widow), 

if I have seen anyone perish for lack of clothing, 
or the needy without covering, 

if his body has not blessed me,
           and if he was not warmed with the fleece of my sheep,

if I have raised my hand against the fatherless,
            because I saw my help in the gate,
then let my shoulder blade fall from my shoulder,
            and let my arm be broken from its socket.
For I was in terror of calamity from God,
and I could not have faced his majesty.

Job 31:15-23*

[...] learn to do good; 
            seek justice, correct oppression; 
bring justice to the fatherless,
 plead the widow’s cause.

Isaiah 1:17*

 

 We Have a Responsibility

 God commands us to protect and serve humanity; those lowest, weakest, most hurt, most despised people. At this point in history, and you think of a more despised class of humans than the unborn, weak, or disabled? Society is telling us to eliminate those who contribute the "least" to society or experience the lowest "quality of life": the terminally ill, elderly, and unborn (even through earliest stages of infancy). Job states that the very same God who created me created each and every human being, the unborn (and his mother), the disabled or handicapped (mentally and physically), the elderly, whatever race or gender, and yes, even the homosexual**, the fornicator, the thief, the addict, the murderer***, etc., and because of this we are to treat each as equal, and protect each life at all stages with the same fervor as we would our own. We, as mere humans, are in no position to assign value on another human life, only the omniscient Creator has the power to do such a thing.

This is why I oppose racism, sexism, and all kinds of prejudice; this is why I am anti-abortion and anti-euthanasia: you cannot oppose prejudice and consider ending the life of another person for the sake of convenience a choice.***

"Thermodynamic miracles... events with odds against so astronomical, they're effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing. And yet, each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter... until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged.
"To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air into gold... that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle." 

         "But... if me, my birth, if that's a thermodynamic miracle... I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world!"

"Yes. Anybody in the world. But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget... I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.

"Come... dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly."

Dr Manhattan to Silk Spectre; Watchmen

* Socialism; please be patient; that is a topic for another post.
** Homosexuality: Again, please be patient.
*** The death penalty: please see above statements.

One Lord, One Faith, One Birth, One Holy Name.

The Church's one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord; she is His new creation by water and the Word. From heaven He came and sought her to be his Holy bride; with His own Blood He bought her, and for her life He died.

Elect from every nation, yet one o'er all the earth; her charter of Salvation, one Lord, one Faith, one birth; one Holy Name she blesses, partakes on Holy food, and to one hope she presses, with every grace endued.

Though with a scornful wonder we see her sore oppressed, by schisms rent asunder, by heresies distressed, yet saints their watch are keeping; their cry goes up, "How Long?!" And soon the night of weeping shall be the morn of song.

'Mid Toil of tribulation, and tumult of her war, she waits the consummation of peace forevermore; till, with the vision glorious, her longing eyes are blest, and the great Church victorious shall be the Church at rest.

Yet she on earth hath union with God the Three in One, and mystic sweet communion with those whose rest is won. Oh happy ones and Holy! Lord, give us grace that we like them, the meek and lowly, on high may dwell with thee.

Make it happen

"Wouldn't you be happier somewhere else?"

During a conversation about local art, music, and culinary culture, I was asked, "Do you want to stay in Bismarck?"
"Yes. Why?"

"I just feel like you'd be happier somewhere else; somewhere with a more vibrant art culture, and more of the things you really enjoy."

While discussing coffee, I was asked, "Where are you from?"
"Here. But I lived in North Carolina for three years."
"You seem like you're from a big city."

While these discussions are not new, and are as a matter of fact fairly frequent, these two were very close together, and forced me to put a part of my mission to words.

Why am I here? Why don't I go to a major metropolis, where there's a vibrant art community, great local music scene, and tight nit coffee community already in place? Why don't I move to Seattle, or Portland, or Minneapolis, or New York City, or Atlanta, or Charlotte, or Raleigh/Durham, Chicago, or even Fargo or Grand Forks and fulfill my dreams of being a coffee professional/writer/artist/photographer/designer or any combination of these?

Think about this: Why isn't the art community as vibrant in Bismarck? Because everyone who has the dreams I do has done exactly that – left. North Dakota, even Bismarck has so many people who love the things I do, and want the culture I want, but they give up and leave or resign themselves to the idea that there will never be any class, culture, or industry (besides farming) in Bismarck. Those who leave have come to the conclusion that there is no hope for this town and go somewhere the culture is already established (ironically, they then have to do less work).

Think of another thing: How did the culture you seek get established in the places we all expect it? People like you, people like me, founding it. They didn't leave when they didn't find what they wanted, they made it happen where they were.

Here's my mission (at least part of it): I want to be a part of the establishment of the art culture in Bismarck. I want to help the people who are actively pouring the foundation for the structure of our art community. I want to build the coffee community I seek. I choose to stay here because I'm not satisfied letting someone else put in the effort while I reap the benefits of their labour of love. I want to labour in the things I love. I want someone else to reap the fruits of my labour. I want to offer something to the people who love this city as much as I do. I've been told it's a pipe-dream, a utopian fantasy that can never be made real, but I've seen it elsewhere, because someone had a passion and made it real. Why leave when I can make it happen?

Think about that for a minute. Where are you now? Are you satisfied? Are you ready to leave at your first opportunity because your community doesn't offer what you desire? How about this: you offer your community something. You shape the community. You have the creativity and passion to do it, and I guarantee there are others; find them.

Make it happen.

Thermodynamic Miracles.

"Thermodynamic miracles... events with odds against so astronomical, they're effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing. And yet, each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter... until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged.
"To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air into gold... that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle."

         "But... if me, my birth, if that's a thermodynamic miracle... I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world!"

"Yes. Anybody in the world. But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget... I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.

"Come... dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly."

Dr. Manhattan to Silk Spectre; Watchmen

Insomniac : Abstract II

The honk of a goose, miles above;

The first snowflake, slowly falling to the ground;

The first bud of spring;

The scent of dust, stirred by drops of rain;

Slender smoke ascending;

The chatter of a squirrel;

The laughter of a child in the arms of his father;

The the sigh of an infant, asleep in her grandfather's arms;

Eyes locked, in joy or sorrow;

A hug, a salve for the deepest wounds;

Even the quietest word, whispered in comfort;

An apology;

The caress of a dear one;

"I love you;"

Captured in colour, in shapes and lines and shadow.

The simplest things are monumental.

Meandering feet and mind.

     I wrap my scarf another time 'round my neck, and turn my collar up and lower the brim of my hat against the wind; "Should'a worn a beanie. Dummy." I stuff my gloves into one of my larger pockets; I like to feel my fingers rather than stifling fabric between them. As I trudge through the snow and it packs onto my boots and jeans, making each step heavier and heavier, I smile at the crunch that meets my ears.

     A group of birds – I think they're shrike. I'm not really sure – whips startlingly close to my right ear. One perches on a heavily iced branch close to me, and plays in the snow that settled there; he reminds me of a dog, pushing his head into a pile of the fluff, shaking it off and jumping around. He lets out a shrill call; it's incredible how different that voice sounds through frozen air. I notice his family and friends doing the same on other branches of the tree, jumping around and shrieking, like children in a snowball fight. They all lift off of their various perches simultaneously, as though operating on command. Their undulating, inconsistent flight pattern reminds me of the enormous flocks of black, shrieking birds that lived in the giant cottonwoods surrounding the field where my high school soccer team practiced. I always think of birds as flying in well organized patterns, "V" mostly, but these move in fluid patterns, like giant, black waves in the air. It always inspired awe how random their flight seemed to be, but they always flew together, taking off and landing as one, flying as a unit, never alone, never solitary. They alight on a neighboring tree, and begin their frolicking again.

     As I watch them, a contrasting, well formed "V" flies above, higher in the sky than I ever remember seeing geese. They are eerily silent. I wonder what they could be, flying so high and so silently; as the point disappears, the distinct honk of the goose finally reaches my ears, and I can hear them for several seconds after they vanish. As I glance back at the bird perched near me, I smile and continue on my way.

     My fingers wander over the items in my pockets – a movie ticket stub, keys, chap-stick, and some loose change. Each holds a story, a memory. The change is what's left over of my last dollars 'til payday, spent on a roll of 400ASA 120 film for the twin lens camera slung over my shoulder. I slide it off and aim it at a group of icicles hanging from a dead vine, twisting its way through a white picket fence; the metal on the focus knob is bitterly cold to my bare fingers... <snap!> ... I love that snap. No battery, no electricity, no fuel besides the power of a spring I load manually before each shot, yet the sound is so formidable, almost intimidating. I laugh at the thought of the young, high powered electronic devices cowering before the weight and might of this that is fifty years older, this that never runs out of juice, never runs out of energy.

     Slipping my hands into my pockets, I find my keys again. Images of the various doors they unlock flash through my mind, and images of the keys that used to dangle next to them. My feet continue straight ahead, trudging through the deep snow, but my mind wanders aimlessly down paths to the doors I've held keys to, and back into events and conversations that happened beyond them. I halt at one to which access was never granted to me; I open it a crack and smile, and the smile is returned – a bright smile, one of the brightest you'll ever see, a smile that shines through honey eyes – but the door slams in my face, that smile never to be seen by me again. A frigid sigh escapes my lips, and my thoughts return to my steps, and the tattered paper between my fingers.

     A joyous memory. Three friends laughing uncontrollably at the back of the theatre. I pull the stub out and inspect it closely. "I still haven't paid her back. Rude." The laughter rings in my mind and I begin to join in, when I catch another pedestrian – enjoying the weather far less than I – eying me curiously. I nod with a smirk on my face.

     Screams of glee catch my ear. They sound strangely loud, yet strangely distant through this thin air. I look to see children sledding down the street, stirring great clouds of ice behind them. At first I am startled by their stupid bravery, but I remember doing the same on this very street with my best friend when I was likely the same age. Sledding with my best friend: we found the steepest, longest point of any given hill, and built a massive ramp at the point we thought we would be at top speed, and made it as smooth and slick as possible. "Ha, it's a wonder we were never hurt!" It was some of the most fun I've ever had. I shake my head and laugh again.

     Branches stretch above me, coated in ice, like crystal fingers trying to warm themselves in the heat of the sun. The terrifying beauty of an ice storm give me chills beyond that of the air surrounding me. Images of the storm I experienced in St. Louis on my Exodus to the South fill my mind: A smooth, shimmering highway; the vehicles ahead of and beside me, coated in ice, glistening like the roads; glass looking road signs with icy dreadlocks. The scene looked more like a spirit highway, haunted by spectres travelling along side me, and spirits pointing the way to my destination.

     I reach my door and enter. I stamp the caked snow from my boots and pant legs, then turn the kettle on for tea. As I hold my favourite mug – made by a friend – to my lips, letting the steam fill my nostrils and fog my glasses, I meditate on the tangibility of the stinging cold of winter, of the comforting heat of my tea, of the memories, both comforting and stinging; the tangibility of holding a moment in your mind like a photograph in you hand; the tangibility of feeling the pain of a moment like the pain of frostbite, I feel alive.

     So absolutely alive.

Walt Disney Buys Lucasfilm.

The following is a press release made today by The Walt Disney Company on their website:

Burbank, CA and San Francisco, CA, October 30, 2012 – Continuing its strategy of delivering exceptional creative content to audiences around the world, The Walt Disney Company (NYSE: DIS) has agreed to acquire Lucasfilm Ltd. in a stock and cash transaction. Lucasfilm is 100% owned by Lucasfilm Chairman and Founder, George Lucas.

Under the terms of the agreement and based on the closing price of Disney stock on October 26, 2012, the transaction value is $4.05 billion, with Disney paying approximately half of the consideration in cash and issuing approximately 40 million shares at closing. The final consideration will be subject to customary post-closing balance sheet adjustments.

"Lucasfilm reflects the extraordinary passion, vision, and storytelling of its founder, George Lucas," said Robert A. Iger, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of The Walt Disney Company. "This transaction combines a world-class portfolio of content including Star Wars, one of the greatest family entertainment franchises of all time, with Disney's unique and unparalleled creativity across multiple platforms, businesses, and markets to generate sustained growth and drive significant long-term value."

"For the past 35 years, one of my greatest pleasures has been to see Star Wars passed from one generation to the next," said George Lucas, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Lucasfilm. "It's now time for me to pass Star Wars on to a new generation of filmmakers. I've always believed that Star Wars could live beyond me, and I thought it was important to set up the transition during my lifetime. I'm confident that with Lucasfilm under the leadership of Kathleen Kennedy, and having a new home within the Disney organization, Star Wars will certainly live on and flourish for many generations to come. Disney's reach and experience give Lucasfilm the opportunity to blaze new trails in film, television, interactive media, theme parks, live entertainment, and consumer products."

[...]

Kathleen Kennedy, current Co-Chairman of Lucasfilm, will become President of Lucasfilm, reporting to Walt Disney Studios Chairman Alan Horn. Additionally she will serve as the brand manager for Star Wars, working directly with Disney's global lines of business to build, further integrate, and maximize the value of this global franchise. Ms. Kennedy will serve as executive producer on new Star Wars feature films, with George Lucas serving as creative consultant. Star Wars Episode 7 is targeted for release in 2015, with more feature films expected to continue the Star Wars saga and grow the franchise well into the future.

The acquisition combines two highly compatible family entertainment brands, and strengthens the long-standing beneficial relationship between them that already includes successful integration of Star Wars content into Disney theme parks in Anaheim, Orlando, Paris and Tokyo.

[...]

Read the release in its entirety here.

Robert A. Iger, CEO of The Walt Disney Co., goes on to say, "... we're planning to release Star Wars Episode 7 – the first feature film under the "Disney-Lucasfilm" brand. That will be followed by Episodes 8 and 9 – and our long term plan is to release a new Star Wars feature film every two to three years."I'm really not sure how I feel about this. The "prequel trilogy" changed almost the entire story, from brilliant action fantasy in space ("The Force ... is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together"), to forced almost-unbearably-dramatic science fiction ("Midi-chlorians are a microscopic lifeform that reside within all living cells..."); and even Lucas' countless edits over the years changed the story dramatically (Han changed from total bad-ass, to bad-ass when threatened; a characteristic that made his transformation at the end of the trilogy far less significant). But who knows, maybe the new management are the fanboys who grew up on the original trilogy, and they'll restore some of the magic that was lost.

Basically, I am terrexcitehorrithrillified about this whole thing. 

The Carpenter, Babel, and Carry Me Back.

This year, what are most likely my three favourite folk bands each released a new album, two of which have been added to my favourite albums of all time.


Carry Me Back
by Old Crow Medicine Show

Carry Me Back is Old Crow's fourth full length album, and their first in four years, since the release of Tennessee Pusher.

I was introduced to their music with O.C.M.S. only a few years ago, and the raw, unrefined bluegrass energy and excitement, and the pride in their own heritage and the heritage of our nation made me fall in love. The love continued with the palpable passion of Big Iron World, and they became one of my favourite artists in any genre. Sadly, when I bought Tennessee Pusher, I was disappointed that the energy seemed to have dissipated; the music was played with skill, and the songs were well composed, but the passion was missing, and with some refinement the exuberance faded – that's not to say that the music became melancholy; their first albums were brilliantly balanced between joy and sorrow.
Carry Me Back has the most refined sound of all of their releases, and yet, the palpable passion, the obvious joy and enjoyment of their craft, the intimacy, and the raw bluegrass are as present as at the first. Carry Me Back is a wonderful example of the perfect melding of old-fashion art, and modern process.
I want to learn the banjo.


Babel
by Mumford & Sons

Babel is a good record, but it's not great.

Sigh No More was an extremely powerful record in so many ways: the music was raw and untamed, imaginative, vibrant; the lyrics were beautifully written, and hard hitting and relatable; it was perfectly constructed, each song having its own flavour, yet being cohesive and united – it was an instant classic, received by a massive audience, many of whom didn't know they had any like for folk music.

So what happened?

I know, most of you are about to close this page and grumble about some stupid hipster who only likes obscure music at the expense of quality – but hear me out.
Sigh No More was untamed and passionate, but Babel feels restrained. The lyrics are still beautiful, still relatable, and the music is still played skillfully, but there's something missing; it feels like they were trying to duplicate the success of their first album – something they could easily have done, had they only filled a disc with incoherent noise – which they did, simply because of the fan-base built with Sigh No More. The title-track, "Babel," is a powerful introduction, and the lead single, "I Will Wait" was a good choice as such, and "Lovers Eyes" begins with beautiful, subdued harmony, but fades into almost the same chord progression as the first half of the album.
All that being said, "Lover of the Light," "Hopeless Wanderer," "Broken Crown," and "Not With Haste" are brilliant tracks, demonstrating the same passion and imagination shown in their first album, and their rendition of Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" is a captivating cover (the not near as much so as the original).
I'm sure that I will gradually fall in love with this album, as I have with others, but my first impressions are that it is restrained music attempting to convey unrestrained joy and sorrow.
Please don't hate me.


The Carpenter
By The Avett Brothers

The Avett Brothers' I and Love and You was a huge hit, but it was not an instant classic for me, as Emotionalism, Mignonette, and the Gleam EP & Second Gleam were; in fact, it took me more than two years for me to fall in love with it. There were select tracks that I actually disliked for a long time ("Kick Drum Heart,""Tin Man," "Slight Figure of Speech," and "It Goes On and On"). But The Carpenter... now that's an entirely different story.

There is not a song, not a verse, not a lyric, not a note on this record I do not love. They have managed to perfectly combine the magic of Emotionalism with the mainstream refinement of I and Love and You without sacrificing any of the passion of their earlier music. "The Once and Future Carpenter" is a perfect opener, and "Live and Die" follows it perfectly. "Through My Prayers" literally makes my eyes well-up with tears (but that's because I have a personal connection with the lyrics). I honestly do not think The Avett Brothers have written a better, more cohesive, or more beautiful album.
The Carpenter is absolute perfection.
Forgive my gushing fanboy nature.

"The gospel is no weak thing, but comes in power!"

"For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty. For when he received honor and glory from God the Father, and the voice was borne to him by the Majestic Glory, 'This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,' we ourselves heard this very voice borne from heaven, for we were with him on the holy mountain. And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts, knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone's own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit."

2 Peter 1:16-21

"The gospel is no weak thing, but comes in power. The law sets before us our wretched state by sin, but there it leaves us. It discovers our disease, but does not make known the cure. It is the sight of Jesus crucified, in the gospel, that heals the soul. Try to dissuade the covetous worldling from his greediness, one ounce of gold weighs down all reasons. Offer to stay a furious man from anger by arguments, he has not patience to hear them. Try to detain the licentious, one smile is stronger with him than all reason. But come with the gospel, and urge them with the precious blood of Jesus Christ, shed to save their souls from hell, and to satisfy for their sins, and this is that powerful pleading which makes good men confess that their hearts burn within them, and bad men, even an Agrippa, to say they are almost persuaded to be Christians. God is well pleased with Christ, and with us in him. This is the Messiah who was promised, through whom all who believe in him shall be accepted and saved. The truth and reality of the gospel also are foretold by the prophets and penmen of the Old Testament, who spake and wrote under influence, and according to the direction of the Spirit of God. How firm and sure should our faith be, who have such a firm and sure word to rest upon! When the light of the Scripture is darted into the blind mind and dark understanding, by the Holy Spirit of God, it is like the day- break that advances, and diffuses itself through the whole soul, till it makes perfect day. As the Scripture is the revelation of the mind and will of God, every man ought to search it, to understand the sense and meaning. The Christian knows that book to be the word of God, in which he tastes a sweetness, and feels a power, and sees a glory, truly divine. And the prophecies already fulfilled in the person and salvation of Christ, and in the great concerns of the church and the world, form an unanswerable proof of the truth of Christianity. The Holy Ghost inspired holy men to speak and write. He so assisted and directed them in delivering what they had received from him, that they clearly expressed what they made known. So that the Scriptures are to be accounted the words of the Holy Ghost, and all the plainness and simplicity, all the power and all the propriety of the words and expressions, come from God. Mix faith with what you find in the Scriptures, and esteem and reverence the Bible as a book written by holy men, taught by the Holy Ghost."

Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary on the Bible; 2 Peter 1:16-21

"The authority of the Holy Scripture, for which it ought to be believed, and obeyed, dependeth not upon the testimony of any man, or Church; but wholly upon God (who is truth itself) the author thereof: and therefore it is to be received, because it is the Word of God.
"We may be moved and induced by the testimony of the Church to an high and reverent esteem of Holy Scripture. And the heavenliness of the matter, the efficacy of the doctrine, the majesty of the style, the consent of all the parts, the scope of the whole (which is, to give all the glory to God), the full discovery it makes of the only way of man's salvation, the many other incomparable excellencies, and the entire perfection thereof, are arguments whereby it doth abundantly evidence itself to be the Word of God: yet notwithstanding, our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority thereof, is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit bearing witness by and with the Word in our Hearts."

Westminster Confession of Faith 1:IV-V

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

John 1:1-5

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven."

Matthew 5:17-19 - the words of Jesus

Jesus states very plainly, that he "did not come to abolish the Law or the Prophets [...] but to fulfill them." Jesus is the Word, and the Law - both Old and New Testament - is Grace, and is God, and God is Love; If Jesus is the Law, and Jesus is God, and God is Love, then is the Law not Love? If Jesus spoke the words of the Old Testament - the Law - then shouldn't we who claim Faith in Jesus, have Faith in the Law? And shouldn't a believer in Jesus, be a believer in the Word, because Jesus is the Word? The Law is Grace unto us, and a manifestation of Love in the truest form: the Love of God, and Jesus for those He created in His own image, for His own Glory.

In memoriam.

Edward S.S. Huntington – born April 15, 1939, died July 11, 2007
He left a strong legacy in at least six of his natural born children, and another, whom he, and all of his children, consider a member of the family; presently, there are 30 grandchildren to carry on a legacy of Faith and Love, for which he and his wife, Susan, built a solid foundation.


"For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account." 
– The Apostle Paul's Epistle to the Philippians


"Death is a great loss to a carnal, worldly man, for he loses all his earthly comforts and all his hopes; but to a true believer it is gain, for it is the end of all his weakness and misery. It delivers him from all the evils of life, and brings him to possess the chief good. The apostle's difficulty was not between living in this world and living in heaven; between these two there is no comparison; but between serving Christ in this world and enjoying him in another. Not between two evil things, but between two good things; living to Christ and being with him. See the power of faith and of Divine grace; it can make us willing to die. In this world we are compassed with sin; but when with Christ, we shall escape sin and temptation, sorrow and death, for ever. But those who have most reason to desire to depart, should be willing to remain in the world as long as God has any work for them to do. And the more unexpected mercies are before they come, the more of God will be seen in them."
– Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary on the Whole Bible

Helplessness Blues

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see. And now, after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be a functioning cog in some great machinery, serving something beyond me. But I don't know what that will be – I'll get back to you someday soon, you will see.

What's my name? What's my station? Oh! just tell me what I should do! I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you, or bow down and be grateful, and say, "sure, take all that you see," to the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me. And I don't know who to believe – I'll get back to you someday soon, you will see.

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see of the world outside is so inconceivable, often I barely can speak! Yeah, I'm tongue-tied and dizzy, and I can't keep it to myself! What good is it to sing helplessness blues? Why should I wait for anyone else? And I know you will keep me on the shelf – I'll come back to you someday soon myself.

If I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm raw; if I had an orchard, I'd work 'til I'm sore, and you would wait tables, and soon run the store, gold hair in the sunlight, my light in the dawn. If I had an orchard I'd work 'til I'm sore.

Someday I'll be like the man on the screen.

Outrage.

January 22, 2012 marked the 39th anniversary of the Supreme Court's judgement in regards to the Roe vs. Wade case. As I have for nearly my entire life, I attended the local prayer for Life on the North Dakota Capital building steps, and march around the Capital mall.

Growing up, my activity in the Pro-Life movement was very limited, and not my own choosing. It wasn't that I didn't believe that abortion is wrong, I was just never interested in being involved. I was often more or less dragged to the annual prayer and march at the Capital, and Teens for Life? Forget it. 

In 2008, I moved from Bismarck, ND, to Charlotte, NC, and was completely uninvolved in anything Pro-Life for the entire time I lived there. But gradually, I became far more aware of the frequency of the act of abortion, and the general attitude of its acceptability, and in the last year, or so, I have become far more passionate about the movement (still gradually, but at a much greater rate than previously).

At the 2012 Prayer for Life event, I noticed that the size of the group had decreased greatly since my last attendance (three to five years, perhaps). I overheard many of the attendees discussing how wonderful it was to see a group this size again. My heart sank to my boots. The president of Bismarck's First Choice Clinic gave a very short speech, and we began our march. 

When I was younger, they had always had multiple speakers (two to four, if I remember correctly): there was always a message from the local Teens for Life group, one or two shorter presentations, and a longer, primary message.

I noted to my mother that the event seemed very short, and she said that they had done away with the longer message a few years earlier. And here began my outrage.

I was furious that the leaders of the local movement had seen fit to shorten the event to such a degree that, along with our small number, our presence was hardly noticeable. We were on the Capital property for hardly 30 minutes, and walked down the block for refreshments. What kind of example do we give when we are not even passionate enough about our cause to brave the cold (and this year, it was mild) for longer than thirty minutes. That's less time than some people drove to be present. People camp out, chain themselves to things, and truly fight for far less important causes. 

As the Priest opened in prayer, I noticed how few people didn't cross themselves (fewer than ten, including myself), and I was, again, outraged. This is not because I find the practice offensive, and it is certainly not because I resent the Roman Catholic presence at the event; in fact, I am thankful for the passion these people show for the fight for human life.

I grew up in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. The OPC is known for its passion for theology, and hatred for high-church liturgy, and its members will debate in circles, with an unquenchable fire, the Five Points of Calvinism, known as TULIP, and the utter Grace of God. These are elements I believe very strongly, but there hardly seems to me to be much passion for anything but nitpicking over theology. One thing I have heard repeatedly in the OPC (and many protestant gatherings I've been involved in), is that the Roman Catholic Church is apostate, and no longer adhering to the truth and purity of the Gospel, and that most of its members are not true believers.

As I stood on the Capital steps, I thought "Where are the protestants?" The excuse I have heard from some, "It [National Right to Life] has just become such a Catholic organization," came to my mind.

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." [James 1:27].

What child is more alone, more rejected, more of an orphan than the inconvenient, despised & rejected fetus? What senior is more alone, more rejected, more of a widow(er) than the inconvenient, despised & rejected elderly?
Yes, there are elements of Roman Catholic theology that I utterly disagree with, but I must ask: those afflicted souls – the rejected children, the elderly or paralized who are unable to feed and care for themselves, and need a respirator or feeding tube to survive – who visits them in their affliction? who cries out for them when they cannot cry out for themselves? who more than the Roman Catholic church? So I must also ask: where is the Protestant? why is his stubbornness accepted justification not to practice True Religion? The original protestants were stubborn and headstrong, unwilling to yield – it's in our name, for God's sake (I say that intentionally, not in vain)! We are PROTESTants! Now, we choose not to fight for the weak because the cause has become "too catholic"?! I recognize, our original rebellion, our first protest was against the Roman Catholic church, but now we are more willing to stand beside unbelievers for lesser causes, than beside our own brothers who claim our Christ and practice True Religion as set forth in Scripture; how is this justified? 

"I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." [John 14:6];

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast" [Ephesians 2:8-9]. 

These are passages most commonly quoted by Protestants to prove a lack of true Faith in the Roman Catholic church. But what does the very next verse in Ephesians say? "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." Furthermore,

"What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.  But someone will say, 'You have faith and I have works.' Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder! Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless? Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar? You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works; and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, 'Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness' — and he was called a friend of God. You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. And in the same way was not also Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out by another way? For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead." [James 2:14-26].

Is this not legitimate justification for the emphasis of works in the Roman Catholic faith? True Faith is evidenced in good works, not in arguing circles about theology, and which denominations are legitimately Christian constantly. Theology is important, and we should strive to learn more, and I do believe the teachings of my denomination (with some exceptions), but I am frustrated. Protestants speak mighty words, but do little but debate the seriousness of things.
Additionally, the Roman Catholic church is currently fighting passionately against tyranny, not only for themselves, not only for Christians, but for all living in the United States (I searched for hours for the text of both letters to the President, but could not find them); the Anglican Church in North America has issued a public letter standing with them, as has the North American Baptist Conference of Churches. Why so few?


I say these things with love for my Brothers. We have a responsibility to take action concerning our faith. We must stop speaking and start acting!

Odd Redneck.

"I wanna black coffee, with chocolate, and room on top for two shots of espresso."
He strutted around the counter, waiting for his drink to be made. He noticed my companion, and greeted her enthusiastically. I gathered, from their conversation that he is a painter, on his way to the art studio located below the coffee shop.
"My mom has a photo of me next to Janice Joplin. She says she's gonna take it to a film store an' get it blown up real big. I can't hang it in here – it needs barb-wire, an' rope, an' alarms," he said, waving his arms.
"Maybe you should keep it downstairs, in the studio, and don't let anyone see it, or know it's there," my friend suggested.
"Nah, I'd hang it up, so people could see it. I'd put it right up there," he said, pointing just above the counter, "real high, so no one could reach it. But I'm layin' with my head in her lap, and she's runnin' her fingers through my hair. It was on my mom's front porch."
"Write your book, Bubba," my friend said, repeating a suggestion made many times before. He said he was working on it.
I marveled at his stories, wondering how much of what he said might be based on fact.
He rocked back and forth as he spoke, and wore a raggedy, black polyester coat riddled with tears and leaking stuffing, and an equally damaged knit stocking cap. His hands were calloused, rough, and stained. He wore a silver ring on his third finger of his right hand, and two, on with an oversized blue stone, on the third and fourth fingers of his left. His smile was jagged, and one of his teeth, rotted.
"I got one leanin' up on Jimi Hendrix too." I shook my head in awe. "Yup, right on my mom's front porch. The town I grew up in lots a' artist would stop in. Even Jerry Garcia, an' his Dead Heads came to the farm a few times. I remember, he showed up with two busses one time," he continued, even including the year, as he had for both Ms. Joplin, and Mr. Hendrix. "Jerry Garcia wrote one quarter of his songs on my mom's farm. Yup, on his banjo. He wrote everything on banjo. That's why all the Grateful Dead songs have that rhythmic, folky style. I remember one day, no one could find him, an' I said 'Oh! he's down by the crick with his banjo!' An' that's where he wrote Sugar Magnolia," citing the year, once again.
He walked away to pay for his drink, and we shared speculation as to the truth of his tales, and whether they were exaggerations, or delusions.
"Hey!" he said to my friend, "if I throw you a few buckies, would you edit my book? 'Cause my spellin' is shot!"
"Tell you what," she responded, "you get me your book, and I'll see what I can do. I know some people who are really good at that kind of thing, so I might get them to do it instead, because my spelling isn't any good either."
"Did you graduate highschool?" he asked, leaning in.
"Yes I did."
"Then you're better than me. I quit school at ten years old, 'cause I thought I was cool, sittin' on my John Deere tractor, watchin' my brothers an' sisters go to school. 'See ya!'" He laughed. "My brother told me I would regret it, an' he was right."
He proceeded to tell us about all the jobs he couldn't get because he didn't have a highschool level education.
Eventually, he came to telling us that he's a redneck.
"But I'm an odd redneck."
"That's what you should call your book."
"Maybe I will. 'Odd Redneck.'"