Listening to Jackson C. Frank - Blues Runs the Game
On our journey through the American Southwest, on the eve of the wedding day, I sat with two friends on our motel-room balcony. We smoked our pipes and talked about life; one of us strummed on his guitar and at one point I shared a poem I had written; a bottle of homemade mead was passed around; and the crickets chirruped in the warm Phoenix air. I will not easily forget that.
Last night we bottled the Stout and the IPA. There were just three of us in the kitchen, listening to music, sipping wine, and doing the good work of bottling. It is good to be with people. It is good to have friends to sit with. I am thankful for the good grace of friendship in my life.
Listening to Lightning Dust - NPR Tiny Desk Concert
This morning at St. Herman of Alaska Orthodox Church, I became a catechumen. If you would like to know why, please ask me. I will do my best to put it into words. When the brief ceremony was over, the priest said, "welcome home" to me. Maybe that explains it better than anything else I could say.
A year ago, I would not have understood myself. Five years ago I would hardly have recognized myself. Ten years ago, I would have greeted myself as a stranger.
This morning at St. Herman's, a kid ran up to me and headbutted my leg. I was confused until he proclaimed, "I'm a Pachycephalosaurus", at which point I understood him perfectly. I understood because I am the same person now that I was when I was five years old and I loved dinosaurs so much that I wanted to become a paleontologist. You might not recognize me shrouded in a beard and smelling like I just walked out of an incense shop, but if you were to sit and talk to me over a glass of homemade wine, in five minutes you would find yourself talking to the person that you had always known. I still think Pachycephalosaurus is flipping sweet.
Will
