Spring 2023
3/12/23
I want to build the world
The real one with my hands
To turn the magic of a thought
To cultivate the land
I want to build the world
And undo entropy
Exhausting body and my mind
A heart with no anxiety
I want to build the world
And make what I enjoy
To give some value to this place
That raised me since I was a boy
I want to build the real world
Not the world inside my pocket
Not the world of this digital age
But the one that builds me when I touch it
3/15/23 am
What is it in my heart that feels so unwell? I don’t quite know how to describe what I’m feeling this morning. It’s similar to what I recall Sartre describing in his book Nausea. I feel sick, but I’m not. It’s some sort of unwellness at the thought of existence itself.
I don’t know what to do with these days when I feel this way. Everything in me wants to crawl into bed and sleep until I stop hating. Stop hating my life. Stop hating me for all that I’ve not accomplished. And stop hating me for all that I have done, too. I think that’s the crux of most of my “sickness.” Me hating me and then feeling guilty for all the hate. Lord, help my heart find the rest I know You have for me. The rest found in seeing me the way You see me. Are Your thoughts toward me ever negative? Do You ever wish I would just do better? Do I exasperate You, Lord? Will You show me if, and when, and where, and how, and why I do?
4/1/23 pm
I’ve taken to keeping a coffee journal in the last few days. I’ve found that keeping a log of my observations about the taste and the particulars of each brew has helped me notice the subtleties that I never could grasp before. My note taking has led to a feeling of empowerment. I love how a simple and consistent record of my observations leads to more ability. More expertise. More knowledge of cause and effect. More authority. Where else can I apply this sort of practice in my life?
Perhaps I could benefit from some written observation about my progress as a guitar player. But there’s something about that which feels much less scientific than my notes on coffee. How could I turn art into a science? Or my ability to emote through music into something quantifiable? That feels like an impossible task. But is it really?
If nothing else, I imagine that such a record would serve as an encouragement to me, personally. That would be worthwhile in the end, wouldn’t it? Perhaps, and perhaps not.
Journaling has certainly proven useful as a tool for personal development. Those days where I feel my lowest are lifted by the aid of perspective. The perspective of my own years. It is good when I see that I am not the same man I was 5 years ago. Or even 3 years ago. When I am afraid of my own self, I find comfort in the fact that I am not actually the “me” that I’m afraid of. That “me” is dead and gone and a new, truer, realer, more present “me” now stands in his place. While I possess every age I’ve ever been, I am not every age I’ve ever been. I can enjoy the wisdom of every past “me” without the curse of having to be those men. Thank You, God, for this redemption.
4/4/23 am
Is there any difference between sacred and secular? Over the course of my life, I find myself moving toward belief that all things are sacred. That organized religion doesn’t give a thing its sacredness. It may heighten the awareness of that sacredness, but that’s about the extent of religion’s power. I am convinced that food is sacred. The physics of sound is sacred. Care is sacred. Humanity… all of it is sacred. Every invention. Every thing made from something else. Every product of a creative mind. It’s all sacred. If there is any beauty, any goodness, and truth to be found, then there is a sacred quality about that thing, too. I’ve observed that my idea about the sacredness of things seems to be offensive to many. At least many that I’ve mentioned it to. It usually comes up in the context of music. The dichotomy between sacred and secular seems especially present in that world. It’s evident in the use of terms like “worship music.” I hate that classification. It’s not a genera and people treat it like it is. Additionally, I think the idea of “Christian music” is equally absurd. Jesus did not die for the sake of music. Therefore it is not “Christian.” It cannot be. There is only “music.” And then, for each person, there is “music that person likes” and “music that person does not like.” For a person to condemn a whole world of song just because it’s “secular” is enraging to me. There is a very real sacredness to a thing that reveals the truth about something else. And in the case of music, at least in the case of good music, true things are being revealed about the heart of the songwriter. Just because they might be ugly things, that does not make them untrue. And I believe there is great value… a sacredness to being honest about what is real.
4/5/23 pm
I never locked my door at night
And never in the daylight
A silent open invitation
For you to come on in
I grew to be a lonely man
Hid my heart with heavy hands
I’m learning how to open them
So you can come on in
Who told you?
Who told you that shame was yours to hold?
Who told you that evil is what you are?
Who told you that a prayer is only good if you’ve been punished first?
Who told you that penance is more desirable than you are?
Who told you to feel dirty when you like a girl?
To hide your desire?
To keep all of your intimacy for yourself?
Who told you that feeling is a sin?
That anger always leads to hate?
That sorrow always leads to despair?
That hurt just means you need to get over yourself?
That depression is your fault?
Who told you that you were naked?
Exposed?
Vulnerable?
And who told you to hide it?
Who told you that sin was some created thing?
And not a piece of proof that there is something inside of you calling out to light?
Who Told You
4/18/23 pm
Today I logged out of all my social accounts. I’ll maybe go back to them eventually but I like myself better, generally, when I’m not on social media. Already today, I’ve caught myself tapping on those apps. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I see that login screen barring my way. How long would I have spent mindlessly scrolling if I didn’t have that simple little roadblock? How many times a day do I do that? How many literal days have I wasted that way in my life?