"...We Would Both Live Forever."

I wrote here a few months ago that I was more determined to live than I ever had been. The running, the sprinting hills, the insane workouts, the CPAP machine to treat my apnea, all of that is because I want to live.

Throughout all of that, my dog Roxanne has been with me. She was the main reason I would close the computer and go running, or head out to the woods. She was the main reason I lost 22 pounds.

Yesterday I took her to the vet and found out she had leukemia. The family made the hard decision last night, and we had our final moments this morning.

I don't really know how long I've had her, but I know I have been very blessed to have had her as long as I did.

Here are some of my favorite moments over the past year.

I could never tell her no.

"A noble spirt embiggens the smallest man."

At our favorite place, Juden Creek.

After a four mile hike at the Silver Mine

At Silver Mine over Labor Day

Jungle Dog!!!

Cheering on Kyle, Jordan, and myself during our Epic Marathon of Stairs

At the top of the rim of the Giant Hole, (which she climbed by herself)

Black Lab in the snow.

It's a good day to be a dog.

Watching me at Wet Weather Falls

Back porch during the winter. Josh thinks her flea collar looks like a Britney Spears mic

After this picture was taken, all of the international students had their pictures taken with Roxanne

There is in nature mutualistic symbiosis, where two organisms enjoy a relationship that benefits both, such as birds that peck meat from between the teeth of crocodiles. When I got Roxanne, she was entering the final stage of her live, as labs tend to live 12-14 years. There wasn't room for her at my sister's house as the other dogs were eating her food and she didn't have time to walk her.

From the time I got her until the very end, we were doing on average two miles a day. I took her to the woods, and she joined me in everything I did outside, as I found myself being more and more active. As a result, her life was extended well beyond the average lifespan to 17. My sister thinks she could have lived to 20 if not for the cancer. I dropped from 242 down to 220, and am sleeping much better. Our symbiosis has increased both of our lives in years and quality.

After we made the decision, I went on a two mile run. It was the first time I've run distance on my own. I figured if I could complete the run, I'd be better. I finished the run, but the goodbye was still very hard.

As I was running, I imagined her still setting the pace. I ran up a hill, and moved from beneath a street lamp's orange light into the dark street. I looked up and saw the belt of Orion, and Plieades shine through the night's dusky cloak, and remembered why I took up running in the first place.

Every step was made with purpose. Every breath, drawn with determination. Every movement made free from fear.

A few months ago when I was in the middle of triathlon training, Roxanne and I were out running. She just got back from the vet and had lost weight. I thought to her, "If I could give you my determination to live, we would both live forever."

Our final moments

How I'll always Remember You.

The Symmetry of Water

Before I begin I'd like to give a couple of shoutouts.

First to A New Kind of Art by Josh Reeves. http://jreevesart.blogspot.com

He's a lanky-muppety sorta fellow who looks like Jim on the Office and plays drums like Wilco's Glenn Kotche

His art embodies sexy. You can see for yourself. (Also, I took the pictures he has up.)

Next: The Working Paper's by Micah Rains. http://micahrains.blogspot.com

I'm not jealous at all that he got to spend a month in India doing ministry. Not jealous whatsoever. No even in the slightest. Really, I'm not.

All right, now that's out of the way. I've found myself enthralled by the beauty of water. We live on a planet finely tuned to carry liquid water and thus support intelligent life, which not only allows me to take these pictures, but to appreciate the beauty of it.

Still water creates a perfect mirror. I think these are among the most beautiful pictures I've taken.

The lower pond of Juden Creek, lit in Autumn's blaze

These next three were taken at the Tree Farm

one of my favorite places on earth

Tree Farm at Twilight

(actual twilight, not those books and movies I've

neither viewed nor read)

The next four were taken at the Silver Mine over Labor Day, and with my Canon powershot

Cherokee Lagoon

(I've swam from one end to the other. I remember Bobby Brune got a leach.)

Scivally Bridge

Bollinger Mill

Cape County North

Here we are back at lower pond of Juden Creek
This was Summer

Same pond, at the start of Spring

Missouri's by no means known for beautiful, or even tasty water. Still, it has it's own subtle beauty nonetheless.

I was recently challenged to do something more with my photos, rather my ability to capture such images. I'd like to answer that challenge, though I'm not necessarily sure how to. But then if I did it wouldn't be a challenge.

We'll see what happens. I'm excited.

"Alive Now in Your Fall"

If you've never spent the night in an RV in Kroger parking lot with a Norwegian, you're missing out.

More on that later.

Earlier this month I had one of those days at work that made me think I should find another line of work. The student I taught in the morning did absolutely nothing but make noises that make him sound like windshield wipers and cry because he said it was too hard to pick his pencil up the floor. Afterward I ended up working in the office until well after 11pm.

I get days like those, I believe we all do. And I do have to say, I enjoy my jobs. One does not teach special education for students who can't function in the normal classroom, or mentor youth in foster care unless one loves to do it, and I honestly do. Still, working as hard and as intensely as I do does cause me to run myself ragged. Serving 50 plus youth over a 150 mile radius with various needs has been impossible.

I thought it was time to update my resume. Instead of opening it up on my Mac, I ended up opening some of my writings I'm working on.

Some time not too long ago, I told myself...

"God never promised us a life free from failure, though He never intended for us to endure it. We experience failure because we have rebelled, we all have turned away. He promises us His presence, and is faithful to never forsake us. Our failures are to be evidence to us that we need God.

With that in mind, we can fail boldly! Knowing that our failures maybe colossal, God’s love and grace are so much more sufficient because He is sovereign. Our failures cannot in any way separate us from God for we are His heirs, not because we earned, but because of who God is..."

I read about how I played a filler set with Jason Harwell and Jon Black at a time when I had no clue where my life was going. I read about how I lay in disbelief of that I did that and ran across my copy of Francis Schaeffer's "Escape from Reason" which gave the Why I needed to live this insane life of mine. Dr. Schaeffer challenged me to learn how to speak meaningfully to my age. Which is why I write. Why I work. Why I make music.

I told myself:

" If not for failure we could never truly appreciate grace and receive love. Realizing this makes me all the more bold.

That having been said, I'm not afraid to fail."

I left the office with more energy than I did when I ran my triathlon, and ready to attack these challenges with renewed intensity. On my way out I thought back to a meeting I had that day with one of my clients/students, telling him that I found my job was impossible.

He disagreed, "Trust me man, you've been doing a good job."

I thanked him. As I left the office, I came to realize I had been doing the impossible for the better part of a year now.

I took a much needed break from my jobs, if only for a day to head down to Nashville. That brings us to this weekend. I attended Tom Jackson's Live Performance Bootcamp and Industry Showcase. Tom Jackson is THE authority when it comes to live music performance.

I had seen him at work before, and have his DVDs so to see him live in person again would be a much needed experience for me. I knew a lot of what he was teaching, but to hear it live in person, and after having applied almost all of his teachings and experiencing for myself how well they worked, made it so much more real.

Aside from Mr. Jackson teach how to connect with an audience and create moments on stage through music, I got to met some incredible people. One guy came all the way from Egypt. Another came from Norway, though currently was living out of an RV. I asked at if I could crash with him since Alex, my favorite Canadian, was out of town that weekend. HE said sure. He happened to be parked at Kroger's parking lot just a few blocks from the Soundstage where the workshop was. We ended up writing a song at 3AM in his RV. Quite a change for both of us because I typically don't co-write and he's written in white stone castles in Denmark. (Who doesn't)

One thing Tom Jackson told us is that we wait for the opportunity to come before we prepare. So when the opportunity finally does come, we can't make the most of it. I tell my students/clients all the time to do what they need to do when they need to do it, so when the times comes they'll be able to do what they want to do.

I came to realize I've been doing this for some time now. I've spent a great deal of time reading and studying, writing and working on music. Over the past year I've been working hard to establish myself in my day jobs, getting my finances in order, and getting in better physical condition.

Part of the preparation has been to learn how to be the best from the best. Learning from Tom Jackson in person made everything I remembered so much more real and substantial. Aside from learning way more information than I could possibly process in one setting, I got to see some very talented acts. One is going to be on a TV show with Ted Nugent, another was a family act who did the catchiest song ever that I found myself singing in Kroger at 6AM, another was a lady who wrote over 6000 songs, which I had the unenviable task of following to close out the night. THere almost wasn't enough time to fit me in, but thankfully the risk paid off. There are few things more unnerving than playing for a panel of industry experts and a room full of musicians.

I got one song and killed it. My performance was described as "Intense," "Charismatic," I was told in by one of the experts, I have a bright future and keep working. Most importantly, everyone left happy.

It's always good to see how far I've come and how much work I still have to do. That happened this time last year when I opened for Bill Mallonee to give Grace Cafe a grand send off.

I returned to Cape and went for a long hike, lost beneath the waving branches that were lit by autumn's flames.

I have not felt this alive in longer than I can remember

"A voice inside the wind, calling you to move

It's not over yet, something left to prove

Nothing left to lose, a chance to gain it all

You can live again, alive now in your fall."

Jason Harwell

The World is my Canvas

My eye is the brush. My camera phone is my pallet.

Here's another round of my favorite camera phone shots. Again, I have a pretty simple philosophy of shoot what I see. Years of reading graphic novels have given me an eye for juxtaposition.

At any rate, Gentlemen: BEHOLD!!!!

Give me eyes

The Ghost of Wet Weather Falls

Streetlight Rosetta

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Scivally Bridge

This is Josh Reeves' favorite, and he embodies sexy

"flowers growing out of the desert flowers out of parched ground

flowers coming right up through the cracks
of the pavement in your old town

flowering's not a science it's more like a fine art

flowers coming right up through the cracks of our broke up little hearts"

Bill Mallonee

Karl told me this reminded him of Fern Gully

To the Rescue

Speaking of ferns

My new house.

Raining light

"Stay by your stained glass window and I can tell you

of the Maker of the reds and the greens and blues and the yellows.

And I can show, just this point of light through this window

As the clouds roll away and the sun strikes the pane."

Ridgely

"Can you start walking me again?"

If You've Ever Wondered about that Giant Hole on the Outside of Town

I meant to post these some time ago. Jordan Duncan and I took a visit to the giant hole just out side of town.


Here's what the way up to the Giant Hole was like.

Here's a smaller hole on the way to the giant hole.

I wonder if this will give me an extra life?




Looking back on the way up






Here we are getting closer to the top





Here we are at the top, looking out.

This looks like a great spot for a barbeque.

Roxanne came with us too. She has the climbing skills of Spider-Man





Now here we are looking down from the inner rim of the Giant Hole. IN case you start to fall and you can't fly, grab on to this.

This could well be one of my favorite shrubberies in the world ever.

I highly recommend a visit to the Limestone Quarry.

Determined to Live

Last night some friends and I played in the rain-soaked streets, splashing through every puddle between the courthouse and river. I wish it would rain tonight as it's always helped me sleep; not that'd I'd be able to hear it from where I'm sleeping tonight, which is the hospital.

I'm back in the sleep lab for the follow up study on my apnea. I actually got decent sleep when I was down there, which many of you know is a rarity for me. I have a new found appreciation for oxygen, as I tend to not get enough when I sleep and Of all the crazy things I do, and as insanely busy as my life is, I take the greatest risk everytime I go to sleep.

Every time I go to sleep, there's a chance I won't wake up due to sleep apnea. Perhaps that's why I've averaged 5 hours for the past three years. I'm due in for another test later on this month, they won't rig me up with as many crazy wires and sensors as they did last time, they're going to fit me for a CPAP, that will give a burst of air when my apneas occur.

In my last test I had 0ver 40 apneas where I stopped breathing. It wasn't so bad that they had to wake me up to rig the CPAP to me, nor was it so bad that I actually woke up. I've been doing what I can to minimize the risk when I sleep by sleeping on my side and drinking less beer and coffee and not exercising late at night. If left untreated I run a higher risk of stroke, heart attack, or just falling asleep at the wheel, or what have you.

My doctor told me there's no quick fixes here. This doesn't fix itself suddenly but over time and with a great deal of work on my part.





A Star Wars Joke would be too easy.


Part of this work is my decision to complete a triathlon. I've given myself 8 weeks to train and am starting my third week. Its been intense, and a challenge. Just last week my dog Roxanne and I were sprinting up the terraces at SEMO after work after having swam 500 yards earlier that day.

On the drive over I found myself asking, "Why the hell am I going to do this?"

I certainly don't enjoy running, I never have. I thought of all the other people who I know don't work out regularly much less with the intensity that I do, and figured somehow at that moment they were much happier than I was going to be for the next hour or so.

I often have to play mind tricks with myself to get me to run, such as imagining I'm leading a group of survivors out of a burning building, or I'm being ordered to take a hill in the sound and fury of battle, or whatever scenarios my hyperactive imagination can invent. I've also started visualizing myself accomplishing the major life goals: such as going on tour with the record, having the books published, receiving my masters, the most recent one of standing at the altar waiting to get married. Such determination to live kept me at the hill. The realization that I was the only one sprinting terraces did help drive me upward.
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I ran into April, who was running herself, and she told me "I'm glad you can dominate those hills." I certainly didn't feel dominant as I drove my way up the hills battling gravity the entire time. Lifting my legs off the ground to propel myself up and out was a battle against gravity. The entire time, gravity kept pulling me back as I strove up and forward. On the way down, I still battled gravity. This time I was careful not to let it overwhelm me.

There is a personal gravity that I have to battle day in and day out. It's the gravity that keeps me in bed 5 minutes before I have to be at work. It's the gravity that keeps me on the couch rather than working out. It's the gravity that keeps me on youtube and facebook though I need to be writing. It's the gravity that keeps me from picking up the phone and booking concerts, or scheduling meetings with my clients. It's not until I focus that I can break out of Gravity's tyrannical grasp.

Three time UFC Middleweight World Champion Rich Franklin says this, "Breaking away from our everyday world requires us to expend extraordinary energy - to achieve lift off and create a new trajectory. When accomplished, we are free."

I have the tendency to put my head down as I sprint. It doesn't actually make me run faster, it only makes me think I'm working harder and is in fact slowing me down. I realize while I have my dad's work ethic, I also have some of his bad habits, as neither one of us believe in the 'work smarter, not harder.' But by keeping my head down restricts my air, bends my spine, both of which hinder running. Finishing my workout made me appreciate air all the more.

Last night before I met up with the friends, Roxanne and I went on our run. As I climbed up the longest hill, the setting sun was at my back, and as I reached the apex, I could see just beyond the trees the rising shadow of twilight spreading into the sky and above it the full moon hung like a newly minted coin. Suddenly the dryness in my throat was forgotten, the pounding of my lower limbs softened, the sweat no longer stung in my eyes and I just ran. The sky filled with dark clouds like a black tide and the rain fell upon us just as we made the turn at the first mile and headed back. IT was refreshing, invigorating.

I told myself, "I will live."

Scars

"If I were to tell you, a tale of no tomorrows, of suffering and sorrow would you stay with me?"

Billy Cerveny--Harmony

My arms and legs are littered with scars. Like most men, years of yard work, athletics, outdoor activities, and whatever else have left more than their shares of impressions on me, and I suppose I never outgrew that childish habit at irritating these abrasions. We wear scars on our hearts for constantly living in this fallen world. And we find it is very easy to dwell on all the falls, all the scrapes, and all the bruises that we will inevitably accumulate by simply being human. It is easy for us to irritate these wounds with feelings of bitterness, animosity, bearing unforgivable grudges, blaming others, sentiments of self-pity and be as Mike Schmid sings, "Left to swim a lonely sea, complaining in hyperbole, why me? It's just not fair!"

Of course none of these actions can actually heal, rather such attitudes only cause our wounds to bleed more. Eventually two things can happen; either they will become hard, calloused and numb as ice and impenetrable to anything or anyone else. Or these scars will become seething and infected, becoming a very accessible port of entry for other nasty sicknesses to enter into our hearts and infect every aspect of our lives throughout all our time.

Much of what I am do as I write is examining old scars. Some I have had for a long time now, and can still recall exactly how they were inflicted upon me as vividly as the day I first acquired them. Others are some that I have forgotten about. Others still are very raw and tender. And just like a wound will foment and sting when antiseptic is applied, I expect the same to happen as I write. And there are two directions that I can take.

One is to write from the calloused scars on the outside, and let the hardness of these old inflictions dictate my writing. In which case this treatise will be everything I didn't want it to be: bitter, spiteful, hateful, festering, seething, and worse. While it may feel cathartic at the moment, all I will do is cause more division among those I am writing about, and cause more animosity to grow in myself. THe other approach I can take, is to realize as Nouwen describes, that I am, "called to recognize the sufferings of his time in his own heart and make that recognition the starting point of his service."

If I write from the open wound, and not the hardened scar, that can be used to bring healing and reconciliation. There's something to be said for being wounded. One thing I've noticed about the church these days is there is a lot of emphasis on healing. I've attended a couple healing services, where people claim to have the power of God to give healing. I've heard claims that if we don't receive healing from communion or worship or prayer or whatever it's our own fault because we don't have enough faith. While these ideas may be well intentioned, I don't believe they're entirely right.


Such people believe that we are supposed to live our lives free of pain, free of suffering and sorrow. And if there is pain in our lives, then there something wrong with us because God doesn't want us to experience pain.

This isn't true, for God Himself is in pain, and when we suffer, He brings us closer to Him. I have learned that sharing in sufferings and sorrows are the most important things for us to share. It has often been my wounds that have driven me closer to God; that is true healing. That is as we bow before God as our Lord in all things, He will use our wounds to bring us closer to Him. These simply are a part of life, and if I ignore them as I write, I ignore a great part of being human.
God is sovereign and will heal us as He sees to, when He sees fit to. If God wants to leave me wounded because it makes me depend upon Him more He will, and I will be better for it. Someday God will call us to Him, and He will not only mend our scars and cracks, but will make all things new. Until then, God will use these scars to bring us closer to Him. Paul knew what this meant. God left Him wounded with a thorn in the flesh. Three times, Paul prayed for God to remove it, but God did not. As Paul himself writes:

Because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me--to keep me from exalting myself!
Concerning this I implored the Lord three times that it might leave me.
And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness " Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.


Human weakness is the perfect platform for God's divine power to shine forth.

Christ understood this as well. As it was written of Him:


He was despised and forsaken of men,
A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
And like one from whom men hide their face
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.


Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried;
Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten of God, and afflicted.


But He was pierced through for our transgressions,
He was crushed for our iniquities;
The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him,
And by His scourging we are healed.

God used Christ's wounds to bring us closer to Him, to realize how desperately dependent we are to be upon Him at all times for all things. Nouwen continues, "When we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope"