In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to
conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot
hope
To emulate–but there is no competition–
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under
conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

I think this is the most encouraging metaphor I have read about the writing life–that it is in an endeavor of lost and found. That it is not a competition between myself and better men, but it is achieved by “only the trying” and that the rest is not my business. Very encouraging news for a young(ish) writer.

This is not really a promotional post or an advertisement–though I’m certain it will read that way. I assure you I wasn’t paid to write this, nor do I have any illusions about how many times it will be read (answer: approximately 5.) Rather, it’s meant as a nod towards gratitude–a trait I am trying on more in my daily life. I’m thankful that I was accepted into the program, that my 30K dollars are helping to support it, and that in the painful process of reading-eating-writing-sleeping-working I am molting into something bizarre, and fearful, and artistically unpredictable.

SPU’s MFA is not a program for everyone, but if it is the right fit (as it has been for me) you won’t want to take your shoes off for a really, really long time.

1. Grow a beard.
2. Read more works by Wendell Berry
3. Complain less.
4. Compliment more.
5. Watch 75% less movies/TV than I watched in 2010. (Only 2-3 programs were really worth the time invested in them.)
6. Slow down through simplification.
7. Nurture the appreciation for words like ‘vociferous’, ‘picayune’, and ‘atavistic’. (Go on, look them up if you want. They’re really great.)
8. Write for at least an hour every day (procrastinating sleep if needed.)
9. Practice the discipline of living in the present tense.
10. Become a treasure hunter–seeking out the gold that lies buried, and conspicuously on the surface, of all the people in my life.
11. Embrace mystery while foregoing quick judgments.

Every time I play his music in the car, my girls ask, “Isn’t this Christmas music?” I guess they have heard his Christmas album quite a lot.

There are at least three reasons why we still want to make music:

One: We believe making music has something to do with what we were put on this earth to do. If we leave our songs alone, they call to us until we come back to where we belong. When we live in the sweet spot of that calling, it gives others (you?) permission to discover the sweet spot of your own calling and live there.

Two: Both Karin and I have had occasion to bury loved ones. When we put loved ones in the ground, we find that we lose interest in acquiring stuff. We know we can’t take it with us when we go. No, it’s not about acquiring, rather it’s about what we are able to leave behind. That’s what gives life meaning: doing work that you can leave behind, your personal token of gratitude to the world in return for the gift of getting to be alive in it. (We believe the opportunity to make this record with Mr. Henry has everything to do with what we will leave behind.)

Three: Presence. There is a beautiful passage of scripture that made an impact on me as a child that I have never forgotten. Jesus said that if you help someone in need, someone hungry or naked or thirsty or imprisoned, if you are able to be present with them and soothe them in some way, it’s the same as if God was hungry or naked or thirsty or imprisoned and you found a way to help God.

There is so much need in this beautiful broken world it can be overwhelming. Maybe the most profoundly satisfying thing about making music for the last 20 years is we have watched people invite our music to be part of the big moments of their lives – a slow dance in the kitchen with someone who changed everything, a walk down the aisle at a wedding, a child being born… Unfortunately, big moments also occur during seasons when it feels like everything is going horribly wrong. We all need music during those dark times too – I know I do. It’s always humbling and amazing to learn that our music can be present in those too-difficult-too-imagine times. In some small way, through our music, it feels like we get to be present too, even when that is physically impossible. We get to be there in spirit.

That’s enough to keep us coming back.

Artists make art because it is a calling, it is truly a gift to the world—the extending of the soul rather than the anchoring of it to temporal possessions, and it allows artists to share those fragile moments from afar with the broader community.

If you want, you can read the whole letter from OTR—it’s an inspiring account of their journey in the “music industry” and their desire to make art outside of that restrictive paradigm.

If you’re a fan, please support this new album. Make an investment in it—Christa and I did. You’ll get music and bonus prizes just for contributing. Plus, it’s cool to support creativity, vision, righteousness, and optimism in a world that often promotes the opposite.

If you don’t know what WatchD.O.G.S. are, well the “D.O.G.S.” part stands for Dads of Great Students. It’s an excellent national program I’ve been blessed to be a part of this entire school year. The idea behind Watchdogs is to get men more involved in their kids’ education and school life. Studies have shown that just having an adult male presence volunteering in the classrooms and hallways of public schools, actually helps kids feel more secure, fosters better academic performance, and decreases violence and other trouble areas later on. And what I really love about the program is that as a Watchdog, the program will take whatever time you, as a dad, uncle, grandpa or brother, are willing to give. It’s not about quantity, but quality. Just having “Dad” there for a little while actually makes a difference. If it’s an hour a year, they’re cool with that. A day a week, that’s even better. I try to volunteer for an hour a month and it really doesn’t impact my work schedule all that much.

Sometimes I eat lunch with the girls and their friends in the cafeteria. Other times, like today, I help out with math games and pirate impersonations. The teachers are happy to have you, the kids (at that age) think you are some kind of super hero (or clown as the case may be), and you have the satisfaction of giving in a small way to these cute little-people-in-progress who need some time and attention.

 Being a watchdog also gives you an appreciation for what teachers do all day. I’m not kidding. Teachers should make more $$$ than lawyers in my opinion. After only one hour a month I can say that teaching elementary school is truly the most challenging profession—even with summers off. My saintly wife volunteers in the classroom a couple times a week for multiple hours (I can’t imagine…)

But I’d be lying if I told you I was a Watchdog for all those other good reasons above. The main reason I do it is because I love my girls so much. They are always delighted to see me show up. I don’t necessarily get it. I’m the same grumpy dad they see in the morning, evening and weekends. But just entering their world for 60 minutes or less means something special to them. Sarah just about glows each time.

So today, as the pirate said his goodbyes and freed his valiant 1st grade captives back to their classroom, Sarah beamed and told me, “That was the funnest recess ever! I’ll always love you, Dad.”

I just smiled and thought, Aye, ye wee landlubber, aye.

Here’s a link to the CNN article posted today about air evacuations.

Many of our friends are doing what they can in the relief effort. If you’d like to assist in this, some trusted colleagues of ours in Qinghai have set up a method to give aid: Yushu relief. Let’s pray for those who are suffering at this time…

Me: “A limo driver?”

Sarah: “Yeah, a limbo driver. Because if you see a limbo, then Hannah Montana is probably inside it.”

Me: “OK.”

Anna: “It’s not limbo, it’s limo!”

Sarah: “That’s what I said, LIMBO.”