Last night I rolled over in bed and typed this into my phone. It's not a song, and I'm not astute enough to qualify it as poetry... I guess it could be called creative journalling. I think I might start posting some of these "stream of thought" type notes:
I thought I knew I what to do, but I don't. Fleeting moments of peace are now endangered in the thick cloud that sits like a sponge on my head, heavy and wet, soaking up focus and clarity. I thought I knew what to do, but I don't. I crane my consciousness to see what lies beyond, but it's muffled and dark. I can only see my feet, two ragged stubs jutting out below my kneecaps. I'm out of options. I put one in front of the other and pray there is no cliff.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Unpublished
I want you to know that I haven't been entirely neglecting this blog. I've been writing some, but nothing I currently care to "publish." I put that "publish" word in quotes, because being a blog poster is perhaps the farthest thing in the writing realm from being a published author. They do make you feel special though, what with the "Publish Post" button and all... I guess lately I've been struggling to click that button. It could be because I don't want to preach and I don't want to gripe, and try as I might it seems I have a propensity for both. Also, many of these blog ideas I'm writing are incomplete, and it would be a shame to "publish" an incomplete thought. Regardless, they still seem worthwhile to jot down in the off chance it triggers something meaningful. I've realized that the expulsion of words is therapeutic for me (I'm not unique in this, you should try it). Speaking and writing have always been the way that I've managed to refine the random abstractions, however simple or convoluted, that tend to bang around in my head until I give in. Even when nobody is reading along, this type of expression gives me a feeling of release. Perhaps everything I write on here isn't meant to be broadcast. What a novel idea! ...I guess I'm okay with that.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Journal Update: Time Flies
I can't believe I've been writing on this web page for over two years. Time is a strange thing, it moves even when we don't, yet somehow we think we own it. We think we can carpe diem our way to the grave, seizing every moment and milking it of it's potential value. The older you get, the faster it goes. I didn't believe it either, kids, but it's true. Time flies.
The rate at which we grow slows, but time keeps flying by. There can be less difference between someone who is 30 and someone who is 50, than between someone who is 15 and someone who is 20. I think the late twenties are about figuring out what happens when all that expedited growth stops. I now have time to sit back and think, "What have I become?" "What did I allow to shape me?" The good news is I was shaped, molded, and I came out an adult with a half-decent head on his shoulders. The bad news is that my putty is much more dry than it used to be, so in order to change the shapes I dislike I'll have to work harder. I'll have to deliberately make better choices, consistently.
Health class in high school was what we called an "Easy A." We were taught a bunch of things we already knew about sex and disease and pregnancy, but I think administratively they were responsible to cover those bases, to bring everyone "up to speed" as it were. Mrs. Sahagian was our health teacher, and a fun one at that. She was bubbly, and would ease our adolescent awkwardness by saying "PENIS" really loud with a smile. "PENIS PENIS PENIS!" She'd say, "Now you try it... it's not a bad word so just say it and get it over with." I did a lot of eye-rolling in that class. I was so advanced, I thought, and all this stuff was too cheesy for me. Misses, which is what we called her, had hung a lot of inspirational quotes around her classroom, many of them about doing the "right thing." I remember a giant saying that wrapped around three walls of the classroom. I remember thinking how stupid it was. It read "THE CHOICES YOU MAKE TODAY EFFECT THE PERSON YOU ARE GOING TO BE TOMORROW."
Hindsight is 20/20. That quote could not be MORE true. It didn't ring true back then because I could change on a dime, I felt different from one day to the next, constantly experiencing and growing and changing. But my choices, especially in my late teens, have dictated the last decade of my life. My choice to move to Seattle, to join a band, to marry my wife, are a few major choices that define my surroundings as I sit and type this ten years later. They define who I spend my time with, what I do for a living, and what I'm qualified to do in the future. They define where I live, how much I make and who I know. These are the big choices, but there are millions of tiny choices that can have great bearing on your life. Those little choices can become big in the long run. They define how I resolve conflict, how I love and serve, and to what capacity. They can decide for you whether or not you're going to be honest, or whether or not you're going to be addicted, or whether or not you're going to be GOOD. Tiny little choices that seem harmless in your present day can completely alter your days to come.
Back to this blog. After a few years, I realize the choice to start writing it has changed me. I guess I feel more comfortable writing, but I feel like I can form my thoughts better as well. I edit and proofread less than I used to, but I think that's because in the beginning I was naively fearful that someone would discover how fallible and normal I was. Along the way I think realized, among many other things about myself, that I am pretty normal so gave up trying to sound ridiculously smart. I'll admit though, the pull is there to reach for the thesaurus and find the most ostentatious locution to delineate my postulation (e.g. this sentence). I never went to real college, so the thesaurus has lent me a much broader vocabulary than my A.P. English teacher did.
Looking back at the last two years I also realize that I am the same in ways that I'd like to be different. I still have similar fears when it comes to failure. I have the same anxieties when it comes to my art and how it is viewed, who likes it and what it's monetary value is. I struggle with those things the same way I did two years ago, and maybe even more-so now. Maybe it is a constant battle, something that I'll fight for a lifetime, but I never want to settle. I never want to look back and say, "I was better then." I want to be the best now that I've ever been, as sappy and as sensational as that sounds. If time flies I need to grab ahold of it. If the choices I make today define who I am tomorrow then I need to make wise choices. Simple right? It never is.
I'm glad for you who read this. You have helped me in ways you'll never know. The recognition that your eyes are following these words across the screen has caused me to be honest, it's caused me to think deeply about my life, and I hope these lines have caused the same for you. Thank you.
The rate at which we grow slows, but time keeps flying by. There can be less difference between someone who is 30 and someone who is 50, than between someone who is 15 and someone who is 20. I think the late twenties are about figuring out what happens when all that expedited growth stops. I now have time to sit back and think, "What have I become?" "What did I allow to shape me?" The good news is I was shaped, molded, and I came out an adult with a half-decent head on his shoulders. The bad news is that my putty is much more dry than it used to be, so in order to change the shapes I dislike I'll have to work harder. I'll have to deliberately make better choices, consistently.
Health class in high school was what we called an "Easy A." We were taught a bunch of things we already knew about sex and disease and pregnancy, but I think administratively they were responsible to cover those bases, to bring everyone "up to speed" as it were. Mrs. Sahagian was our health teacher, and a fun one at that. She was bubbly, and would ease our adolescent awkwardness by saying "PENIS" really loud with a smile. "PENIS PENIS PENIS!" She'd say, "Now you try it... it's not a bad word so just say it and get it over with." I did a lot of eye-rolling in that class. I was so advanced, I thought, and all this stuff was too cheesy for me. Misses, which is what we called her, had hung a lot of inspirational quotes around her classroom, many of them about doing the "right thing." I remember a giant saying that wrapped around three walls of the classroom. I remember thinking how stupid it was. It read "THE CHOICES YOU MAKE TODAY EFFECT THE PERSON YOU ARE GOING TO BE TOMORROW."
Hindsight is 20/20. That quote could not be MORE true. It didn't ring true back then because I could change on a dime, I felt different from one day to the next, constantly experiencing and growing and changing. But my choices, especially in my late teens, have dictated the last decade of my life. My choice to move to Seattle, to join a band, to marry my wife, are a few major choices that define my surroundings as I sit and type this ten years later. They define who I spend my time with, what I do for a living, and what I'm qualified to do in the future. They define where I live, how much I make and who I know. These are the big choices, but there are millions of tiny choices that can have great bearing on your life. Those little choices can become big in the long run. They define how I resolve conflict, how I love and serve, and to what capacity. They can decide for you whether or not you're going to be honest, or whether or not you're going to be addicted, or whether or not you're going to be GOOD. Tiny little choices that seem harmless in your present day can completely alter your days to come.
Back to this blog. After a few years, I realize the choice to start writing it has changed me. I guess I feel more comfortable writing, but I feel like I can form my thoughts better as well. I edit and proofread less than I used to, but I think that's because in the beginning I was naively fearful that someone would discover how fallible and normal I was. Along the way I think realized, among many other things about myself, that I am pretty normal so gave up trying to sound ridiculously smart. I'll admit though, the pull is there to reach for the thesaurus and find the most ostentatious locution to delineate my postulation (e.g. this sentence). I never went to real college, so the thesaurus has lent me a much broader vocabulary than my A.P. English teacher did.
Looking back at the last two years I also realize that I am the same in ways that I'd like to be different. I still have similar fears when it comes to failure. I have the same anxieties when it comes to my art and how it is viewed, who likes it and what it's monetary value is. I struggle with those things the same way I did two years ago, and maybe even more-so now. Maybe it is a constant battle, something that I'll fight for a lifetime, but I never want to settle. I never want to look back and say, "I was better then." I want to be the best now that I've ever been, as sappy and as sensational as that sounds. If time flies I need to grab ahold of it. If the choices I make today define who I am tomorrow then I need to make wise choices. Simple right? It never is.
I'm glad for you who read this. You have helped me in ways you'll never know. The recognition that your eyes are following these words across the screen has caused me to be honest, it's caused me to think deeply about my life, and I hope these lines have caused the same for you. Thank you.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Self Defeat: Believing Our Own Lies
There is something in me that hates me. I think it might BE me. I think I might hate myself... well, at least some part of me seems to be committed to my own failure. We all have that voice inside of us. Not the one that says very quietly, "Go say sorry," but the one that says very loudly, "You are not important." Who is this voice? Why won't it shut up? And more importantly, why am I so quick to believe it?
I wrote a journal entry called "My Own Worst Enemy" a few years back, but it was more about my outward behavior than my inward struggle, so I feel like this post is justified as it is more focused on that lying bastard inside my head.
A few minutes ago I was inspired to write this because I was filling up my coffee pot at the sink and myself said to myself, "Our band is just one of those bands that nobody cares about."
This statement is one of many that have been playing in my head for the past few weeks. My mind tells me almost daily that I'm not driven enough, talented enough, capable enough or faithful enough to create anything of timeless value. Sometimes I'll fight back and say, "Wait a minute, I'm pretty proud of this specific thing I created," and then the voice will come back and remind me of every criticism I ever heard about that piece, and convince me that these criticisms are mostly true... and I believe it. I believe that even my proudest moment was probably not very good. If I combat this voice even more and convince myself that "Hey, you know what? It WAS good, I don't care what they say." Then this voice will tell me, "That was then, this is now, you're probably all dried up."
This damned voice. What makes me believe it? I believe it because it is me. It sounds like me. It's the me who hates me. Some more religiously charismatic than I might say it's the voice of "evil" or "Satan," but I don't think so. I think it's me, my flesh, a manifestation of my dirty human depravity. Plus, I think I've heard the little demon on my shoulder before, and his sales pitch is much more eloquent than mine. I don't believe him at first because he doesn't sound like me so he needs a trickier approach. I am quick to believe this other voice because it is my own.
So what happens? Well, after awhile you start believing your own lies, which all essentially say the same thing: "I'm not good enough." Suddenly, and unknowingly, you defeat yourself. Has anything positive come from guilt and shame? Has any life flourished after believing that it was worthless? The only thing left after believing our own lies is our own defeat.
We humans are built to withstand so much, pressing on at the top of the food chain for thousands of years, so it's true that the only thing that can stop us is ourselves. Our complex brains coupled with our innate desire to self-destruct can prove a treacherous adversary in matters worth pursuing. Nothing worthwhile was ever done without this nagging, lying voice shouting the whole way that it is unattainable, that we will surely fail because we are not "good enough." I suppose the best defense is to hear this voice and to blindly believe the opposite, regardless of the facts it presents us with.
May the Truth inspire us beyond our own petty defenses.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Record
I've been agitated lately. Ornery. I can work myself into a frenzy doing absolutely nothing. I feel a weight on my mind, and with it comes these pangs of doubt and worry and regret. These days I can find a way to stress and wonder and plan and curse my plans through any distraction I impose upon myself. This is all of course because it is time again to write.
It is time to write a record.
Record. Thats a funny word to still use as a noun, especially since we've never done a vinyl pressing. Alas, the word "Record" is still the current industry standard for the daunting and tumultuous journey I am about to embark on. Do I sound like I'm complaining? Sorry. Like I said I've been agitated lately.
My Dad is a bit of a genius nut. He has cycles, ups and downs, much more dramatic than most people. You could probably call him slightly manic, although he'd probably deny it as he most likely remains unmedicated. Sometimes I think I may have chipped a bit off of that old crazy block. Although in most ways I'm not like my Dad at all (he hasn't an artistic blood cell in his body), I think sometimes I can act like him emotionally. Which is scary. I'd like to think of myself as emotionally adapted, an advanced communicator, a relational problem solver... but really, deep down I'm just a nut. I smiled just now when I typed that. Honesty feels good.
Maybe it has to do with stress. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me, and I feel very alone on the battlefield. It's easy to blame my band mates for lack of interest, drive, growth... talent. And maybe they can shoulder some of the blame, but the sad thing is I can't sling any of that mud without getting a significant amount of it all over myself. I'm not as driven as I could be, as talented as I should be. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me and I am not good enough to conquer it. This is new for me. Talk to me five years ago and I would have said to you in confidence, "I would love to do so many things, but I feel really limited because of the band and our current style of music." Talk to me now, I have a HUNDRED places I could steer this ship and I feel like my arms are cut off. I CANT STEER. What happened to my vision? What happened to my confidence? I suddenly have all the freedom in the world to seize what ever lies ahead and I have this terrible feeling that I'm really not good enough to see it come to fruition. Is that truth? Well, from a spiritual standpoint I am enough because He who is in me is enough. Perhaps I'm not relying on that. However, what if it is true? What if I'm a connector, someone who brings all the geniuses together in one room and milks their minds of the good ideas - and then with that milk I make a milkshake that blows minds? Maybe my mind doesn't have the best milk. This could also be true.
It's funny, one moment you're on the road in a band thinking, "Man, what we could do if these guys let me," and then you're at home going, "WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITHOUT THESE GUYS?!"
And no, our band isn't breaking up. Not just yet. See the "Seven-Year-Itch" post for the prequel to this one. Long story short things aren't like they used to be, and we can no longer afford to have five full time members in our band. Which leaves me, the one full time member, to try to find time to write with the part-timers.
So back to my crazy Dad and how I think I have genetically inherited a similar cycle. If I am not surrounded by inspired, passionate people, this is the only way I create: Self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency, self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency... you get the picture.
To simplify: Destruction-Creation-Boredom rinse, repeat.
It is so stereotypical it makes me sick. Artists and their mini-meltdowns, their flare for the dramatic. Yuck. Not me right? I'm different right? Maybe not...
Let me tell you though, I've got big plans for this next record. I have demos and I have plans. These plans will be hard to achieve. I'm just so terrified of putting out something that I'm not 100% proud of, I want to do it right. I want the right people involved, the right vibe, for the right reasons. This is a lot of think and to pray about. We could use your prayers too, if you're the praying type of person. I need wisdom for how to move forward, faith that no matter the outcome it will be Good (with a capital G), and inspiration for the times when the thought of this work sucks all the creativity out me.
For those of you long-standing blog followers, I probably sound like a broken record. There's that word again. For those of you who are newer, you can read similar sentiments in post from a few years ago called "Tapering."
It is time to write a record.
Record. Thats a funny word to still use as a noun, especially since we've never done a vinyl pressing. Alas, the word "Record" is still the current industry standard for the daunting and tumultuous journey I am about to embark on. Do I sound like I'm complaining? Sorry. Like I said I've been agitated lately.
My Dad is a bit of a genius nut. He has cycles, ups and downs, much more dramatic than most people. You could probably call him slightly manic, although he'd probably deny it as he most likely remains unmedicated. Sometimes I think I may have chipped a bit off of that old crazy block. Although in most ways I'm not like my Dad at all (he hasn't an artistic blood cell in his body), I think sometimes I can act like him emotionally. Which is scary. I'd like to think of myself as emotionally adapted, an advanced communicator, a relational problem solver... but really, deep down I'm just a nut. I smiled just now when I typed that. Honesty feels good.
Maybe it has to do with stress. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me, and I feel very alone on the battlefield. It's easy to blame my band mates for lack of interest, drive, growth... talent. And maybe they can shoulder some of the blame, but the sad thing is I can't sling any of that mud without getting a significant amount of it all over myself. I'm not as driven as I could be, as talented as I should be. I feel this thing that I have to conquer is in front of me and I am not good enough to conquer it. This is new for me. Talk to me five years ago and I would have said to you in confidence, "I would love to do so many things, but I feel really limited because of the band and our current style of music." Talk to me now, I have a HUNDRED places I could steer this ship and I feel like my arms are cut off. I CANT STEER. What happened to my vision? What happened to my confidence? I suddenly have all the freedom in the world to seize what ever lies ahead and I have this terrible feeling that I'm really not good enough to see it come to fruition. Is that truth? Well, from a spiritual standpoint I am enough because He who is in me is enough. Perhaps I'm not relying on that. However, what if it is true? What if I'm a connector, someone who brings all the geniuses together in one room and milks their minds of the good ideas - and then with that milk I make a milkshake that blows minds? Maybe my mind doesn't have the best milk. This could also be true.
It's funny, one moment you're on the road in a band thinking, "Man, what we could do if these guys let me," and then you're at home going, "WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITHOUT THESE GUYS?!"
And no, our band isn't breaking up. Not just yet. See the "Seven-Year-Itch" post for the prequel to this one. Long story short things aren't like they used to be, and we can no longer afford to have five full time members in our band. Which leaves me, the one full time member, to try to find time to write with the part-timers.
So back to my crazy Dad and how I think I have genetically inherited a similar cycle. If I am not surrounded by inspired, passionate people, this is the only way I create: Self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency, self destruction, creative inspiration, complacency... you get the picture.
To simplify: Destruction-Creation-Boredom rinse, repeat.
It is so stereotypical it makes me sick. Artists and their mini-meltdowns, their flare for the dramatic. Yuck. Not me right? I'm different right? Maybe not...
Let me tell you though, I've got big plans for this next record. I have demos and I have plans. These plans will be hard to achieve. I'm just so terrified of putting out something that I'm not 100% proud of, I want to do it right. I want the right people involved, the right vibe, for the right reasons. This is a lot of think and to pray about. We could use your prayers too, if you're the praying type of person. I need wisdom for how to move forward, faith that no matter the outcome it will be Good (with a capital G), and inspiration for the times when the thought of this work sucks all the creativity out me.
For those of you long-standing blog followers, I probably sound like a broken record. There's that word again. For those of you who are newer, you can read similar sentiments in post from a few years ago called "Tapering."
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The End of the World
They say it's coming soon, you know. As early as May 21st, 2011, the day after my birthday, which will make my birthday party the best birthday party ever. But in all seriousness (if you can even seriously assess the inevitable destruction of man), is there any truth to this? Are people just fear-mongering, trying to manipulate public fear in order to indoctrinate potential followers? I have my own crazy (and I'm sure uneducated) theories about the Rapture - the event which marks the official start of The End - but what does the Bible really say about it? There's a lot of artful, creative writing in Revelation, much of it hard to understand, so what I like to do is just go straight to the source and ask Jesus. Turns out He had some stuff to say about the end of the world:
Matthew 26:36-44
36"But the exact day and hour? No one knows that, not even heaven's angels, not even the Son. Only the Father knows.
37-39"The Arrival of the Son of Man will take place in times like Noah's. Before the great flood everyone was carrying on as usual, having a good time right up to the day Noah boarded the ark. They knew nothing—until the flood hit and swept everything away.
39-44"The Son of Man's Arrival will be like that: Two men will be working in the field—one will be taken, one left behind; two women will be grinding at the mill—one will be taken, one left behind. So stay awake, alert. You have no idea what day your Master will show up. But you do know this: You know that if the homeowner had known what time of night the burglar would arrive, he would have been there with his dogs to prevent the break-in. Be vigilant just like that. You have no idea when the Son of Man is going to show up."
Jesus says "But the exact day...? No one knows that." As we all know there are people claiming to be followers of Jesus who think they know, but alas, Jesus their Lord says they don't. And I assume He's probably ashamed that they don't read His words more often.
I for one am not afraid of May 21st, 2011. Partially because, even if I'm wrong, I know I'm right with God, and partially because I don't believe anyone who says "The world will end at this time." According to the Bible, not even Jesus knows that, so by claiming knowledge of that you are putting yourself above Jesus, which makes you a blasphemer and someone that I can't trust any more than I can stand (which is very little). This has been a great kick starter for cults and religions over the years. A leader says "Follow me and my true doctrine, because the end of the world is coming and only people who follow me will be saved."
There have been 44 documented and failed predictions of the end of the world, most of them religion-based. In the last century there were plenty made by The Watchtower Society of the Jehovah's Witnesses.
Since the late 19th Century, the Jehovah's Witnesses were taught that Armageddon would happen in 1914. Membership grew, as you can imagine, in anticipation of this great event. When Armageddon failed to happen in 1914, Watchtower Magazine predicted, "The year 1925 is a date definitely and clearly marked in the Scriptures, even more clearly than that of 1914; but it would be presumptuous on the part of any faithful follower of the Lord to assume just what the Lord is going to do during that year." Good call on that last part, because it bailed them out of looking like complete clowns again. But, they always need some motivation for people to join so...
The Watchtower Society selected 1975 as its next main prediction. This was based on the estimate "according to reliable Bible chronology Adam was created in the year 4026 BCE, likely in the autumn of the year, at the end of the sixth day of creation." They believed that the year 1975 a promising date for the end of the world, as it was the 6,000th anniversary of Adam's creation. Exactly 1,000 years was to pass for each day of the creation week. This prophecy also failed.
The point is this, people will use the Bible for false motives. They will use it for power and government, for financial gain, for prestige and fame, for just about anything other than what it was intended for. If you ever have any questions about what people are saying concerning the end of the world or anything else, go to the source. Jesus Himself, in the Bible itself, says "You have no idea when the Son of Man will show up." So you can be rest assured that those claiming to know are contradicting the same Jesus they claim to follow, probably because of some selfish motive to get people to join their cooky, twisted Church sect.
I won't go into detail about how I have this theory that the Rapture is a metaphor for death. And since death brings us into eternity, and eternity is timeless, all of us will be caught up at the same time in death, in "Rapture" form. I won't talk about how there are correlations between Jesus' language about the Rapture will be an unexpected occurrence and how death can happen any moment. I just won't, because it's not the point I'm making. The point I'm making is that we can all have our bogus theories about what's going to happen, but we can't jump to conclusions, and we especially can't trust the conclusions of those who contradict their own source.
Matthew 26:36-44
36"But the exact day and hour? No one knows that, not even heaven's angels, not even the Son. Only the Father knows.
37-39"The Arrival of the Son of Man will take place in times like Noah's. Before the great flood everyone was carrying on as usual, having a good time right up to the day Noah boarded the ark. They knew nothing—until the flood hit and swept everything away.
39-44"The Son of Man's Arrival will be like that: Two men will be working in the field—one will be taken, one left behind; two women will be grinding at the mill—one will be taken, one left behind. So stay awake, alert. You have no idea what day your Master will show up. But you do know this: You know that if the homeowner had known what time of night the burglar would arrive, he would have been there with his dogs to prevent the break-in. Be vigilant just like that. You have no idea when the Son of Man is going to show up."
Jesus says "But the exact day...? No one knows that." As we all know there are people claiming to be followers of Jesus who think they know, but alas, Jesus their Lord says they don't. And I assume He's probably ashamed that they don't read His words more often.
I for one am not afraid of May 21st, 2011. Partially because, even if I'm wrong, I know I'm right with God, and partially because I don't believe anyone who says "The world will end at this time." According to the Bible, not even Jesus knows that, so by claiming knowledge of that you are putting yourself above Jesus, which makes you a blasphemer and someone that I can't trust any more than I can stand (which is very little). This has been a great kick starter for cults and religions over the years. A leader says "Follow me and my true doctrine, because the end of the world is coming and only people who follow me will be saved."
There have been 44 documented and failed predictions of the end of the world, most of them religion-based. In the last century there were plenty made by The Watchtower Society of the Jehovah's Witnesses.
Since the late 19th Century, the Jehovah's Witnesses were taught that Armageddon would happen in 1914. Membership grew, as you can imagine, in anticipation of this great event. When Armageddon failed to happen in 1914, Watchtower Magazine predicted, "The year 1925 is a date definitely and clearly marked in the Scriptures, even more clearly than that of 1914; but it would be presumptuous on the part of any faithful follower of the Lord to assume just what the Lord is going to do during that year." Good call on that last part, because it bailed them out of looking like complete clowns again. But, they always need some motivation for people to join so...
The Watchtower Society selected 1975 as its next main prediction. This was based on the estimate "according to reliable Bible chronology Adam was created in the year 4026 BCE, likely in the autumn of the year, at the end of the sixth day of creation." They believed that the year 1975 a promising date for the end of the world, as it was the 6,000th anniversary of Adam's creation. Exactly 1,000 years was to pass for each day of the creation week. This prophecy also failed.
The point is this, people will use the Bible for false motives. They will use it for power and government, for financial gain, for prestige and fame, for just about anything other than what it was intended for. If you ever have any questions about what people are saying concerning the end of the world or anything else, go to the source. Jesus Himself, in the Bible itself, says "You have no idea when the Son of Man will show up." So you can be rest assured that those claiming to know are contradicting the same Jesus they claim to follow, probably because of some selfish motive to get people to join their cooky, twisted Church sect.
I won't go into detail about how I have this theory that the Rapture is a metaphor for death. And since death brings us into eternity, and eternity is timeless, all of us will be caught up at the same time in death, in "Rapture" form. I won't talk about how there are correlations between Jesus' language about the Rapture will be an unexpected occurrence and how death can happen any moment. I just won't, because it's not the point I'm making. The point I'm making is that we can all have our bogus theories about what's going to happen, but we can't jump to conclusions, and we especially can't trust the conclusions of those who contradict their own source.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Good Mourning, Good Knight
I shop at H&M just like everyone else. So it should be of no surprise to you that sometimes, just like everyone else, I can't fall asleep.
I love when I can't sleep, because my mind starts going places it normally wouldn't go during the day. In the dark of my quiet bedroom, away from the noise and distractions of the day, my imagination can tend to run a little wild.
A few nights ago there was a lunar eclipse. I don't know if that played any significant role but I couldn't sleep. It was 3:30am and I was writing a song in my head. A silly, Celtic folk jig about... well, I typed it all into my phone so I'll share it with you. I hope you laugh as much as I did the next morning.
It goes like this, 6/8 feel, kind of like an old Christmas carol:
Chorus
Good mourning, good knight
Suffer well, suffer right
There's no telling of what they might say
In sackcloth and ashes each moment that passes
Is all the more reason to pray
Verse 1
You had no idea of what would occur
when you left for the war on that day
They came from the forest and took your Delores
and sailed with her countries away
Verse 2
And on your return you were chagrined to learn
That your lover was stolen away
By privateer merchants two years ago
Searching would be of no use anyway
(Chorus)
Verse 3
On the day you wake up with no pain in your gut
You must set off to seek your revenge
And may you never rest til you sever the heads
Of the men who had taken your love
(Chorus)
Profound, eh? No? I agree, it's funny. I even demoed it out in the morning with three part harmonies and picking acoustic guitar. I think I'm going to add an accordion to it to give it that circus-folk feel. I can picture drunken Irish sailors swinging steins of beer, belting out this song with thick accents. New demographic perhaps?
I love when I can't sleep, because my mind starts going places it normally wouldn't go during the day. In the dark of my quiet bedroom, away from the noise and distractions of the day, my imagination can tend to run a little wild.
A few nights ago there was a lunar eclipse. I don't know if that played any significant role but I couldn't sleep. It was 3:30am and I was writing a song in my head. A silly, Celtic folk jig about... well, I typed it all into my phone so I'll share it with you. I hope you laugh as much as I did the next morning.
It goes like this, 6/8 feel, kind of like an old Christmas carol:
Chorus
Good mourning, good knight
Suffer well, suffer right
There's no telling of what they might say
In sackcloth and ashes each moment that passes
Is all the more reason to pray
Verse 1
You had no idea of what would occur
when you left for the war on that day
They came from the forest and took your Delores
and sailed with her countries away
Verse 2
And on your return you were chagrined to learn
That your lover was stolen away
By privateer merchants two years ago
Searching would be of no use anyway
(Chorus)
Verse 3
On the day you wake up with no pain in your gut
You must set off to seek your revenge
And may you never rest til you sever the heads
Of the men who had taken your love
(Chorus)
Profound, eh? No? I agree, it's funny. I even demoed it out in the morning with three part harmonies and picking acoustic guitar. I think I'm going to add an accordion to it to give it that circus-folk feel. I can picture drunken Irish sailors swinging steins of beer, belting out this song with thick accents. New demographic perhaps?
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