Eva Cassidy

Eva Cassidy had one of the purest voices I’ve ever heard. This is one of my favorites.

Enjoy.

Eugene Peterson Interview

Here’s a rare interview with Eugene Peterson. Watch, and I think you’ll see why he’s one of my favorites. (HT; Internetmonk)

Who, Me?…Poetry?

I didn’t grow up with any appreciation of poetry. So it is somewhat surprising to me that later in life I have begun to read a few poets. Christina Rosetti, John  Donne, G. M. Hopkins, Gerhard Tersteegen, and Wendell Berry to name a few.

Wendell Berry is one that makes me slow down and breathe easier. It’s not because he only says comforting things, but rather because he brings a quality of sabbath to bear in his writings.  It doesn’t take a literary genius to figure that out though. His volume, A Timbered Choir, is tagged on the cover, “The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997″.

This is one, from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, I really resonate with.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

-Wendell Berry

It’s “No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul-Friday!”… Only, Like On Saturday, Because I’m A Day Late

Oops! Since ”No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul-Friday” isn’t officially listed on the church calendar, I don’t think anyone will mind. This week it’s “No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul-Saturday”

Friday is (usually) the day I ask you, “How are you really doing?

The reason I ask this is, well, lots of people ask how you’re doing, but not very many really want the truth. The unvarnished, messy, sometimes embarrassing  truth. But I am asking for that truth.

If you do write in know that I’ll pray for you and that you won’t get trite, easy answers to real problems. Even if you don’t write in at least you’ll know someone is asking. 

“Carry On My Wayward Son”… On An Organ… By A Little Japanese Girl

Wow. Just wow.

Even the audience at the end seems to be dumbfounded. 

My piano recitals never sounded like this.

It’s Friday!

Both of you who have been reading this blog for a while know that Friday is the day I ask you, “How are you really doing?

The reason I ask this is, well, lots of people ask how you’re doing, but not very many really want the truth. The unvarnished, messy, sometimes embarrassing  truth.

The truth for most of us is that we’re not nearly as far along as we thought we’d be by now, that we’re hiding behind various masks we’ve constructed to show everyone what we think we’re supposed to be, and that keeps us from knowing and really being known. We are alone because no one knows us. We feel like Psalm 142:4, “No one cares for my soul.”

It’s no wonder. Not only will no one really listen to me, I couldn’t tell them even if they would listen. (I know this isn’t true for everyone, but it’s true for enough of us to be a “true” statement) Well, not on Friday’s here.

I’m asking, and listening, and for once the anonymity of the interweb can help.

Tell me how it’s really going.  Use your real name or not, fine with me. But be honest. Even if you don’t write, you’ll know someone is at least asking.

If you do write, know that; I’ll pray for you (pray for me too), I won’t give you trite, easy answers, and that I’m trying to work on my log, before your splinter.  

*Disclaimer* If this post reads like it was written by someone with no idea how to form coherent sentences, we’ve been dealing with a stomach bug at our house, and I’m a little sleep deprived. Sorry. 

A Little More Substance, If You Please!

Some of you may have noticed that I haven’t posted much in the way of insightful commentary on much of anything lately. Well, sorry.

 I have several things in the draft stage, but nothing is final yet. I’m still thinking about stuff. A process that takes me only slightly less time than the previous ice age.

If you’ve got something you want to talk about, by all means write in. I’m game.

“No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul” Friday

Here it is again. It’s “No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul” Friday. That day of the week when I ask you the reader, both of you,” How are you really doing?”

You may or may not write in. You may or may not use your real name. I may or may not know what to say, or be able to help.

But at least you’ll know someone is asking.

It’s “No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul” Friday Again

Guess what?

It’s “No-One-Cares-For-My-Soul” Friday. That day of the week when I ask you the reader, both of you,” How are you really doing?”

You may or may not write in. You may or may not use your real name. I may or may not know what to say, or be able to help.

But at least you’ll know someone is asking.

Under Construction

I’m working on a post, but I’m not done with it yet.

In the mean time here’s something to ponder, be amazed by, wonder at.