The Wind and the Rain

Another oldie, I really should have posted it years ago. One of my favorite memories. I say this a lot but I really should post what I take the time to write. I have so many drafts it's not even funny. Enjoy.

Sometimes I think back to the time
When we got lost on that old country road
We didn't care where we ended up
We just kept following, never leading
Our destination made me want to stay forever
Watching the rain fall softly on that old windmill
There was something so sweet
When our eyes did meet
As the dying sun finally went away
What we felt I could not say
It was something so strange
But I knew we would never be the same
And what I like the most about that night in Amsterdam
Is the fact that it was just you and I
Whatever happens that night stays the same
No one knows what we experienced that time
No one has seen what we saw
Life may have changed since then but that day will forever remain
That day was you and I
The wind and the rain

Live

I'm not sure what it is about me, but I don't think I've ever been happy living with anyone. Now there is an natural tendency to jump from "me not being happy living with other people" to "me not liking the people I live with." It may sound like the same thing, but I promise it is different. I love the people I live with. Otherwise I would not live with them. But something inside me just goes steadily awry when I live with others.

Maybe I need more space than these living situations allow. I will admit I have been a part of some living arrangements that have been/are...tight. Not a lot of room. Maybe I am a goldfish.(to understand this reference go see Big Fish) But as I say this I am reminded of the house I lived in last year that was huge, more space than I wanted in fact, and I still felt this way. I would get on edge and the slightest thing fires me up. I remember yelling at my best friend because our laundry got mixed up on accident. Why did it matter? Who cares? I really don't like it because it sort of forces me to spend all my time elsewhere, so I don't feed these feelings and don't get riled up. I know that isn't the most forward way of dealing with it at all, but what I am supposed to say to my roommates: listen I like you, I just don't like living with you? I would have no idea what to say if that was told to me. Just writing about this makes my chest tighten a little, it makes me a little on edge.

I was talking to someone a while ago about this subject. I felt that I would really thrive living alone. There is no one to blame, or become resentful of. No one can annoy you or take up your space. But this person whom with I was sharing the conversation, though I can't remember who, thought this a rash decision at least for the time being. I remember them saying that since my time here in Bozeman is coming to a close, that I should make the most with the friends that I have and live with them, not apart. I see their point, but if all living with my friends did was create tension and separation than I am certainly not making the most of anything. But at the same time I will certainly not move out, that wouldn't be taken well by my roommates. Plus I don't want to move out. I like it here. I just have a difficult time doing it.

I really don't understand myself some of the time. Some things that are so fundamental like getting along with the people you live with seem to be completely absent in me. What happens if someday down the road I decide to live with someone for the rest of my life? Will this come back? Actually I'd rather not think about that, let that worry about itself.

-Bitter heart, bitter face
Broken child, broken vase
The room is cold, and growing dark
The sun is fading from the park
Darker still, there is no light
Don't give up, you've got to fight
Bitter heart, you've got to feel
Little child, you must kneel
In your hands, something begins to glow
Hold it to your chest, never let it go
Warm your soul, warm your night
Little child, it will be alright

Surrender

    I have found that sometimes God speaks truth to you in subtle, gentle ways. Other times he kind of bludgeons you over the head with it. The latter has been happening recently. I got home from 3 weeks of travel, and sort of began thinking about all that had happened: Christmas with my family, visiting friends in Colorado; and something began stirring in my head. God was trying to tell me something. I realized that I got EVERYTHING I wanted for Christmas. That has never happened, nor do I think it should. But I got all the presents I wanted, I got to see all the people I wanted to, and at the end I was left asking why? Slowly but surely the answer came saying, "Matt I have given you EVERY earthly possession you could possibly desire. I have surrounded you with people who love and care about you. I want you to focus on ME. You don't need to give any attention to that other stuff. I am right in front of you. And there isn't any excuse you can claim. You cannot claim school overbearing you, you cannot claim exhaustion or busyness or work. It's time you got back to ME." That was enough for me to stop and acknowledge God as being in control, but it did not stop there. Only a couple of days later the sermon at my church was based on 1 John 3:1 "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!" God didn't give us the bare minimum amount of love that we would need, he lavished us with love.

    In the sermon the parable about the prodigal son was also used as an example. This is one of my most fond parables, one I am very familiar with, and yet I had never thought about the story this way: in the story there are two examples of lavish, extravagant living. One is earthly lavishness, and one is Godly lavishness. The younger son receives his inheritance from the father and spares no expense as he squanders that wealth. He is only concerned with the things the world has to offer him. (This is where I start to squirm in my chair.) But he turns back and heads for home, hoping for the minimum amount of forgiveness, of grace. But when he returns his father is waiting for him. Upon his return lavishes him with a robe, the family ring, sandals, and a feast. The father greatly exceeds what the son was expecting. This is God waving his hands in front of my face and saying "Hey! Hello in there! All that crap will get you nowhere, and fast. I'm trying to lavish you with my love, if you will only let me!" I give up, I surrender. I want the love I've been cheating myself of. I want you, Lord.

Vacation? No, this is an adventure. Part 1: Seattle

I love Christmas and I'll tell you why. Though it may be hard for me to remove the selfish, gimme-gimme part of Christmas from this explanation, I'll do my best. I love Christmas because it is about sacrifice. My family is dispersed across the country, and has even been spread across the world in years past. But there is an understanding that we will do whatever it takes to make it home for each other. I remember my sister coming home from France and having her bag taken by mistake by an Italian man who didn't speak any English. Or in the same year when my dad and other sister had to drive from Seattle to Colorado Springs fighting blizzard conditions the whole way. It is about sacrifice. My dad pulled me aside when everyone was home this past Christmas and said "as far as I am concerned this is Christmas, having everyone home." I think he hit that one right on the head.

It was both incredible to see Seattle under a foot of snow, and terrible when you realize that a large city full of people who don't know how to drive in snow still need to do their Christmas shopping. I was so glad to have two 4-wheel drive vehicles at my disposal. I learned that in my parents new neighborhood maybe a quarter of the residents had 4-wheel drive cars and maybe a tenth had snow shovels. I was glad to do it, but I have never shoveled or dug out cars more than over the 11 day span of being home. What really made things tricky was that our street was in a private neighborhood (don't ask me what that means) on top of a huge hill. The hill was probably 200 feet long and super steep. Anyone without 4-wheel drive was doomed going up or coming down the hill. As a result, most of the neighbors were snowed in. One night I went out and shoveled almost half of the hill, though I didn't feel obliged to do it as much as a spirit of wanting to give my time and energy. Thankfully some neighbors saw that and finished shoveling the next day.

I also love MSU's travel board. I used it my freshman year, and for some reason forgot about it after that. It is such a useful tool. For Thanksgiving I brought 2 guys out to Seattle and between splitting gas and declining gas prices it cost me 10 bucks round trip. 10 dollars! For Christmas break I took Kristy (another complete stranger) after she called me about 4 weeks in advance. I picked her up from the dorms, as it is not unusual for freshman to be without cars. So we start driving. For most of the ride she was texting a girl who lived next door to her. Apparently this other girl was not too thrilled about Kristy traveling with a stranger. Anyway we get to talking and Kristy asks me what I do besides school. That is a fairly simple question for me to answer since I pretty much only do Young Life when I'm not studying. She hadn't heard of Young Life but quickly equated it to Campus Crusade for Christ, and she began spouting off names of people I might know through Cru. Wouldn't you know that she was living across from a good friend of mine, and next to a girl I met through Cru. It turned out that it was one of these girls was the one texting Kristy the whole time. She was very relieved to hear that I wasn't a stranger after all. I hope those girls keep hard after Kristy. She is cool and easygoing; she just needs a little direction. Don't we all.

There is nothing like driving by yourself. After a while you do go a little batty, but it really is a unique outlet. You can sing at the top of your lungs, be messy with snacks, and you never have to worry about compromising in what you are listening to. But as much as I like driving alone, driving with someone is sooo much better. I found out that I am a much safer drive when there is someone else on board. Not that I am a reckless driver, but when the roads were bad on my trip, I was perfectly content to go slow and not push my luck. Maybe I should have company with me more often with I drive in the winter. I've also decided that girls are much more fun to drive with long distances. There is never much of an awkward silence, and even though you may not really be a part of the conversation, you always feel involved. The two guys who rode with me over Thanksgiving said a total of 10 words combined during the trip. It isn't their fault necessarily, it just would have been nice to have had some conversation. I digress, it was wonderful to spend a week and a half at home, but at the end I was ready to hit the road for Colorado. More to follow on that trip.

November Blue

If I weren't leaving would I catch you dreaming?

If weren't gonna be gone now could I take you home?

If I told you I loved you would it change what you see?

If I was staying, would you stay with me?

If I had money would it all look good?

If I had a job now like a good man should

If I came to you tomorrow and said let's run away

Would you roll like the wind does, baby would you stay?

My heart is dancing to a November tune

I hope that you hear it singing songs about you

I sing songs of sorrow because you're not around

See babe I'm gone tomorrow

Baby follow me down

I don't know why I have to, but this man must move on

I loved my time here, didn't know it till I was gone

November shadow shade November change

November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains

November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains

You're yellow hair is like the sunlight

However sweet it shines

Bit by the cold of December I'm warm beside your smile

Oh baby tell me I'm not leaving

You're everything I dream

I'm killing myself thinking I'm fallin like the leaves

I'm killing myself thinking I'm falling like the leaves

- Avett Brothers

Sometimes I want to be Trapped

Maybe someday this blog will be lighter in content. Maybe my heart will be lighter someday for that matter.

I had this thought. I think that I like the feeling of being trapped. It sounds counterintuitive but I think I am right. The reason for this is that when you are trapped, everything becomes clear. Of course there is the initial realization of being trapped and you try and find a way out with blind haste only to find there is none. Once you calm down from this, the situation greatly improves. You realize that you have nothing to do but face what you are up against. You know you can't quit, you know that there is nowhere to go. It is very simple when you are trapped. There aren't alternatives, no backup plans. This may be a stretch but I think college is something that traps us, and we take great comfort in this trap. As long as you are not completely turned off by college you can expect anywhere from 4 years to 8 or ten years of commitment. By recognizing this, you can block off the next half decade or decade and just put your head to the grindstone. You don't have to look up or take a breath. In that regard, and maybe only that one college is easy. You embrace the walls of academia though they are a sort of prison. Even though you may face the most challenging obstacles in your life, you can't help but take them on. It doesn't mean we attack everything in the best way possible, hardly in fact. But in the end I think we do face them.

Then suddenly your college experience is coming to a close and things that you normally would have addressed and overcome seem less of a priority. After all, if you wait just a little while longer you can run from these problems. That I do not like. Having the option to turn tail and run does not sit well with me. When it comes down to it, I don't believe I would choose the right way out. I feel like 9 times out of 10 I'll choose the easy way. I'm kind of afraid of what is going to happen in the spring. I'm not afraid of what decisions I'll make, I believe they will be right. But will I be content with how I handled everything? Will I act as though I am up against a wall with nothing to do but face the music or am I going to just slink away unnoticed? We shall see.

Gone But Not Forgotten

I thought about writing this when I was on facebook, so I wrote a note and this is the exact copy of it. Lazy? perhaps but I just wanted to make it available to everyone on here as well.

Today marks the 6th anniversary of my friend Travis McCorkle passing away. It is strange to me, it seems so long ago but at the same time I remember it like it was yesterday. This was an event that was one of the most significant of my high school years, and probably my whole life to date. I remember the funeral so vividly, and why not. It was the first one I've ever been to. A year later I went down by myself to Florence, CO. to see Travis's grave. That sort of broke my heart all over again. His grave stone was adorned with trinkets and trifles from family and friends. One item that I saw that really brought back the memories was Travis's hacky sack, which was lying atop the gravestone. He and I spent a lot of time playing with that thing over the course of two years of working together. It is funny how you can have such a strong association with someone through a toy. I still keep a 2-dollar bill that he gave me one night that made its way into the tips at work. That may seem to be less significant, but when he saw it in the tips he was excited because he collects those. But I asked him if I could have it, and he agreed on the condition that I never use it or give it away. That was one of the last times I ever spoke to Travis. Another strange thought that crossed my mind today was the fact that I am almost as old as Travis was when I met him. I mean in a few years I'll have outlived him, but then again 26 is so young to die. It is amazing to me how someone could leave such an impression on someone who only knew them for a short period of time. Well Travis, today is your day, and you and your family are on my mind. Rest well my friend.

The Passing of Music

Tonight I attended a concert put on by a family band of sorts. The Werner quartet is 4 kids, one boy and 3 girls ranging from 14 to 18 years old. First of all I was under the impression that the quartet only played cello. But to my surprise, all of the kids were not only exceptional cellists, but incredible pianists, and bass players. They constantly changed clothes, set and instruments. I really can't get over how amazing this really was. Each child played solo pieces, all of these were memorized, completely. Each player had truly unique styles from the others. Andree the youngest, was by far the most fun to watch. She was constantly moving rythmically to the music, she was probably the smoothest piano player of the bunch. Mariel the next oldest was the steady one, the backbone. She wasn't as magnanimous as Andree or as technical as the two oldest, but she was constant, nearly mistake free. She seemed content with being more in the background, but when she soloed she was quite good. Helene the second oldest was probably the most technical of the four. She was astounding. She loved to be at the front, and you sort of could tell. Luc, the oldest, he was the leader. Though not quite as technical as Helene he had that quality that cannot be attained with precision. He had IT. Anyway, it was during the concert that something dawned on me.
The idea of music, at least this kind has a great deal of heritage. What I mean is that it is passed down. I suppose the argument could be made that the family isn't all that impressive because they only attempt to recreate great works in music. But there is something about how they presented it all. They came out many different flashy, fun outfits; they were constantly changing instruments, sets. They not only mastered these pieces, some of them hundreds of years old, they managed to convey the same feeling behind the music all the while adding a modern theme. They made it their own and transformed it. They even made their own arrangements of some of the pieces to better fit their style and influences. The encore was the most fun.
They came out this time with electric cellos, a keyboard, a bass guitar and an electric guitar. Oh and sequined outfits and hair wigs. They played a set of Queen songs to close out the evening. As if what they showcased wasn't impressive enough, they proved that they could also excel at rock and roll. Luc played guitar like he had been playing as long as he had cello, but it was plain to see that he had picked it up recently. All this and for 6 bucks. I am speechless. What a night.

This Wasn't Supposed To End This Way

Gosh dangit. This is really superb timing. I mean as if my life wasn't complicated, confusing, and careening out of control on its own, then this had to happen. Have you ever been so hung up on a decision that you lose sleep over it? I laid awake for at least 2 hours the other night having a prolonged conniption fit over this. Nothing is never simple, I've found. And it is never as easy as I envision it to be it my mind. I have to leave, there is no doubting that. But on so many levels it seems impossible to. How can I leave on of my best friends behind for the last 2 months that he will be in Montana? What a way to end a year. How can I leave the two friends I have made in this house, knowing that in some capacity I am wounding them for their tolerance and brotherly love? How can I go and ask others to accommodate me, but wishing to keep the details rather vague? Even before all of that, how do I confront my roommate in a loving manner that I am moving out almost immediately because of his brother?
In those terrible hours spent alone in my room with my thoughts all I wanted to do was pack up, and leave in the middle of the night without a trace. It was maddening because in my extremely non-confrontational mind, I knew that would be by far the easiest option. But I also knew it was the only option I couldn't carry out. I knew that the hard road was the only road. Of course the next step in my head involved, as it always does, carrying out these scenarios of what could transpire between me and the people that are involved. They are inevitably negative, and absurd but none the less possible, at least in my mind. When sleep did finally come I was left with the thoughts that only the worst would come of this situation. Already I have been reassured in at least one facet of this situation but by far the hardest has still to come. I know I won't blow this off because it is a hard decision and an awkward one but I just dread beginning this whole process. I know it is soon. I'm not even worried about logistics, though that is usual. It is the relational struggles that are sure to follow.
Also I am unsure how I should deal with this on the level of outsiders. Certainly I want my friends to be aware, but can I disclose this to my high schoolers? I'm not afraid of what they, or their parents may think. I know my actions are correct and pure, but there could be talk about my friends who stay behind. I want to protect them, it is the least I can do. My decision is my own, and it doesn't and shouldn't reflect on them in a negative light. That is the worry I have. In no way is this decision meant to elevate me above anyone. Through all of this I want that to be understood. We are all in different situations and I think there are different ways to approach something like this. No right path, just our own. I know I have to follow mine, no matter how hasty and crazy it may seem. No matter the hurt, no matter the hardships.
I am grateful for one thing. Recently I've been having a hard time(understatement) in knowing for certain where I am supposed to be going, what I am supposed to be doing. But this was undeniable. It was completely clear. Ironically I wished for some sort of ambiguity to clout my judgment because I was afraid of what it meant. Since the outcome was far harder than what I wanted, I wished for the alternative. But I know now that I am so glad there is no mistake. A conversation with a fellow student last week about school suddenly comes to mind. I told him that "most of the time the struggle (in school) is not about how to do something, it is about knowing what to do on the spot." We know how to get to the conclusion, but if we don't know the way to the beginning then we can't ever get to the end.

No Know No Know

There are some people that we consider to know well and understand. But about this man, no one could say that they understood him. Rather they could say that they understood very well that they did not understand him at all. In this regard they find common ground with him. They know nothing about his circumstances though he has spoken about them countless times. We can reproduce the same details, same emotions from them, but no conclusions can be drawn leaving us for a loss. Is this alright? In a way it is always mysterious and leaves us very intrigued to hear these accounts. But what if anything do we ever gain? Is that the point, to gain something from them? On the one hand it is maddening to no end, living on the wrong side of this one-sided relationship. We receive volumes and anthologies full of nothing, or better nothing we are capable of understanding. I for one am not up to the challenge of wading through the jumbled life of someone else, at least not before sifting through mine own. I want to, but I can't. It doesn't take long but we begin to see this continual leaflet dropping as a front for actual communication, though it is not. Shortly following we(I) become bitter and choose to sever what appears to us as an already cut off friendship. But then it comes, a simple thoughtfulness from the other side. We thought it impossible, like Japanese soldiers singing carols on christmas night on the battlefield. Suddenly we don't know what to think. Then it seems all too likely that the other has no idea of the thoughts that have transpired on our part, and rightly so. So back to the beginning we go again. We must be left to our first conclusion and be satisfied: we understand that we don't understand at all. In some sort of twisted, unfulfilled way there is actually solace in that. I think, therefore I am...I admit to knowing nothing, therefore I know.

If this made sense to anyone, my hat is off to you. I don't quite understand it all myself. It is about everyone and about no one. Better put from the movie The Darjeeling Limited: "all the characters are fictional."