Showing posts with label Joe Crookston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joe Crookston. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

"and I can see it in you..."

"It's in the blooming of an orchid
It's in the baby when she talks
It's in the sugar of a maple
And in silence of a hawk…
It's in your hungry neighbor
It's in the digging of a shrew
It's in the belly of the Buddha
And I can see it in you…"

Joe Crookston

It's the fourth day of March.  It's Super Tuesday II. Primaries are being held in Texas, Ohio, Vermont, and Rhode Island.  Here in Missouri it's a Winter Wonderland.  Big, fluffy snowflakes are drifiting down from a dove gray sky blanketing the city in silence.  There is a blustery wind sending swirls of visible cold around the ankles of students braving their way from apartments and co-ops to the corner coffeehouse.  But our family is almost cocooned in the warm smells of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven and a vanilla candle near the stairs…the sound of the twins' laughter in the playroom and folk music seeping out from under Jeff's office door. 

It feels like the best parts of Christmas have been resurrected today.  The warmth of family and baking, the sweet sacredness of gratitude, the stillness of winter's promise…a child being born in a manger.  Today has that sense of quietness.  As if to remind me that underneath all this snow and cold there is a miracle growing…a small bulb has been sleeping -- waiting for just the right moment when warmth and light and the song of robins will call it to the breakfast table of Spring. 

I feel that promise today.  I sense that for all of us, there is a silent, unseen something calling us to a greater awakening…to rise and open our eyes to all that is budding and blossoming in consciousness…right now.

In 1994 some colleagues and I began witnessing a conscious stirring in collective human thought…an awareness of the inherent internal hunger for spirituality.  New books were being written and published that encouraged readers to probe and explore the unseen and unknown, television hosts were beginning to address the inner live of their guests, films were being produced with themes of transformation, redemption, forgiveness.

By 1996 we were fully engaged in this quest for all things spiritual and by the year 2000 we no longer had to convince one another that prayer had a radical impact on the our lives…it was no longer a question…it was a generally accepted paradigm for 87% of those polled.  When thinking back on that fateful days in September, 2001...the senseless acts of violence launched in New York and Washington, DC...events that held our hearts hostage, I am so grateful that we were a community of thinkers prepared to pray.  We were already primed by this hunger for something deeper, able to respond from a core of spiritual beliefs that had been nurtured by  whatever faith tradition or spiritual practice we had embraced.  And we did.  We responded from that core and discovered the best in ourselves.

Today the attacks on our peace are quite different…more subtle perhaps…but no less aggressive and frightening.  Unemployment in the double digits, millions of people losing their homes, a recession looming, and a health care crisis that for many keeps them awake at night often wondering what terror might lie hidden beneath the skin…their own or that of a loved one.

Our reponses and solutions could be the same today when terror rages within, as it was almost seven years ago…this time, instead of just starting with prayer and then looking outside of ourselves for a sense of peace, safety, security and hope, we can return to those core practices that gave us such direction and empowerment in the days following 911...and stay there. Perhaps we could continue by taking down the fences and boundaries that leaves us on an "us" and "them" playing field. 

What would change today if we were to treat everyone like out neighbor.  What if we were to think about our co-worker...whose child is ill requiring her to miss work...with the same compassion we showed the mother who hadn't seen her missing son since the Trade Towers fell and our hearts almost leapt out of our chest because we were so eager to extend our love to her...from wherever we were across this land.  What if the man who lost his job because of plant layoffs were treated with the same willingness to "pitch in" as the firefighter who was injured that day in September saving lives.  What if we were to pray for the millions of homeowners facing the loss of their homes as we did for those Trade Center neighbors who were displaced in the wake of jet fuel smoke over Manhattan.

We are all one.  We all live out from the same place…the kingdom of heaven.  We all have one supreme leader…a divinely good God.  We are citizens of one race…humanity.  We all have the same hopes…to love and be loved…to feel that we make a difference in the world, that our purpose is clear, and that we are valued for what we do.

We all have access to the same space of silence within…the place where God speaks to us of His ever-presence and love.  

So today, rather than looking to CNN or MSNBC to tell me what the state of our economic health, security or promise is…I am going deeper…I'm asking God how I can best serve Him.  Who does he need me to love, comfort, help, care for? 

There is something rising in all of us today.  It has been pushing its way through the cold soil of complacency and self-determinism, apathy and consumerism, frustration and distrust...it is strong and it is steady, it never gives up on us.   This unseen something knows the core of who we are as the children of God, it is stubbornly persistent as only hope can be…it is the very I AM in us that is springing forth…rising and rising to burst through the soil and breathe the light.

When we are silent we can hear it breathing in us, we can feel the shifting of the soil around our heart, we can smell it like scent of a crocus bud still striving beneath the dark rich earth.  Today I am grateful for the silence of the snow, the quiet of the frozen ground where something beautiful and grand is growing strong.  I am ready for Spring.

"O little town of Bethlehem,
   How still we see thee lie;
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
   The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
   The everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
   Are met in thee tonight.

O morning stars, together
   Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
   And peace to men on earth;
Where charity stands watching
   And faith holds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
   And Christmas comes once more.

How silently, how silently,
   The wondrous gift is given;
So God imparts to human hearts
   The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear his coming,
   But in this world of sin,
Where meekness will receive him, still
   The dear Christ enters in.

- Phillips Brooks

The Christ in springing forth from the soil of our hearts...from the kingdom of heaven...Bethlehem in each of us...each moment...no one is left out.
Kate

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

"...please tell me who I am..."

"...There are times
When all the world's asleep,
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man.

Won't you please,
Please tell me what we've learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am."
- Roger Hodgson

For months now my husband has been recommending that I listen to the songs of Joe Crookston, an emerging folk artist he met last year at the NERFA (Northeast Regional Folk Alliance) conference in New York.  I have so many artists that I love…and the space of silence (though reading this blog you would never believe it) is prime mental real estate for me as a spiritual healer…that I didn't take him up on it. 

But Jeff, who is not at all pushy, pushed…a few times.  One morning, while I was making breakfast, he brought in a small CD player and asked me to listen to a song.  It was beautiful, but the lyrics were so deep that I couldn't seem to focus on turning the veggie bacon
and plumbing the depths of their profound meaning at the same time.  I said something like, "Lovely…", which it was…musically, and then turned back to slicing avocado and crumbling feta for the omelette.   So the artist's name never connected to the song for me.  Just a lovely listening experience…nothing that really poked at the soul.

Then before he left for the International Folk Alliance festival in Memphis last week, Jeff pushed one more time.  I came into my office after seeing him off, and there on my computer keyboard was a CD.  Right there in the middle of the place my fingers spend a lot of time on a daily basis.  So I sat down and rather than pop it into the CD drive of my laptop, I set it aside and got to work.  Over the course a the next two days I moved it from one spot on my desk to another.  Until one morning when I remembered my rule about not handling a piece of paper more than once…part of my simplicity movement...and was caught in the headlights of my own playbook for living simply.  I had it in my hand ready to put it in yet another corner when I realized that if I was going to obey those rules I either had to pop it in the CD drive and listen to it…or, I had to get up from my desk and climb the stairs to Jeff's office and put it on his desk.  The easiest thing to do was to listen to it.  So in it went. 

I immediately went back to work before the first track started.  "Hmmm…a very interesting instrumental  opening…" me thinks as I continue with the work at hand.  Then the first moment of voice and lyrics burst through the guitar strings and I broke into tears.  A sob caught in my throat and I was stunned by the power of what I was experiencing. 

This was such a surprise.  I hadn't even heard more than the first six words of the lyric yet, but something deeper in the performance, Joe's thoughtful use of a familiar 1970s pop/rock hit in such a sober, gentle -- spiritual way…resonated deeply.  I was amazed, in an instant, by the way such meaningful lyrics were reclaimed for me …when set to music
I felt comfortable with.  And I was surprised that a song I had heard hundreds of times on the radio had lyrics that I had never really thought about…at all.  Each of these things hit me at once and I felt a dozen emotions flood my heart. 

Supertramp was a group that my singer/songwriter/folkie genre-loving younger self just didn't connect with.  They were flashy, played instruments that were electric…electric guitars, electric keyboards with that buzzy sound, lots of drums and loud banging...and they just weren't Dan Fogelberg, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne-ish enough. 

I was a folk snob.  And because of it I missed out on really listening to songs that had themes of longing and hope…messages that might have reached me like the voice of an encouraging friend in those lonely days when the search for a "self" was fraught with doubt and confusion.  It makes me wonder how many of my life's "angels" were missed because they didn't come in a package I felt comfortable with or weren't coordinate with how I wanted to be seen, or who I wanted to be seen with…or listening to.

Joe Crookston's version of
"The Logical Song"from his new CD "Albert Baker Charley & Dog", is hauntingly sober and beautiful. I have listened to it many, many times over the last week.  The lyrics though, came from the heart of that young rocker, Roger Hodgson, the lead singer from Supertramp.  Realizing this I want to know him better through his music, so I've now downloaded Supertramp's version too.  I love them both.

The 1970's folk-loving hippie version of me who wouldn't listen to Supertramp 30+ years ago is reclaiming herself as someone who is open to new genres of music -- and the messages she may have missed out on -- each time I play this 70's Supertramp rendition of
"The Logical Song".  And the 50+ year old hippie-woman-me who still loves, loves, love folk music is grateful that Joe Crookston could gently serve up Hodgson's message in a way that unlocked the doors of my heart to a new/old angel message of longing and desire for identity and purpose…finally.  It is helping me remember that the search for "who am I?" is timeless and universal.  I love that Mary Baker Eddy points our lives in a new direction when she addresses this question in a way that is radically empowering:

"…rise above the oft-repeated inquiry, What am I? to the scientific response:  I am able to impart truth, health, and happiness, and this is my rock of salvation and my reason for existing.

Human reason becomes tired and calls for rest.  It has a relapse into the common hope.  Goodness and benevolence never tire.  They maintain themselves and others and never stop from exhaustion.  He who is afraid of being too generous has lost the power of being magnanimous.  The best man or woman is the most unselfed."


So…as I listen to "The Logical Song"…whether it's Joe's version or Rodger's…I am reminded that there is work to be done.  Yes, I am able to impart truth, health and happiness…this is my reason for existing. 

Fashion designer Dianne von Furstenburg, in a recent advertisement for American Express shared, in talking about her life's journey:

"I didn't really know what I wanted to do
But I knew the woman I wanted to become…"

I, too, know the kind of woman I want to become…open to new ideas, accepting of others regardless of packaging, generous, kind…able to impart truth, health, and happiness…since, as Eddy says, it is my reason for existing.  I am a work-in-progress.   I guess it's never to late to become a closet Supertramp fan...even for this dyed-in-the-wool folkie.

I've included the full lyrics to "the Logical Song" below in case you want to read them. 

"When I was young,
It seemed that life was so wonderful,
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.

And all the birds in the trees,
Well they'd be singing so happily,
Joyfully, playfully watching me.

But then they send me away
To teach me how to be sensible,
Logical, responsible, practical.

And they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable,
Clinical, intellectual, cynical.

There are times
When all the world's asleep,
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man.

Won't you please,
Please tell me what we've learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am.
- Roger Hodgson

Thank to Roger and Joe...between the two of them...I think I'm beginning to get the message...
Kate