I don’t want to call it a mystical moment, because it wasn’t ethereal enough. But it was close. This afternoon I was low on sleep, standing in line to pay for my lunch at the Divinity School’s coffee shop, and I heard the song: Bend and Break from Keane.

I still don’t know what the song means. Well, I at least don’t know what the song meant to the composer! (There’s a fine difference).

If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

In such a chorus, the song seems to be in the first person (singular): it’s about me. Is this written to a long-gone lover to whom a living person has to keep living in order to reconnect? (i.e. I have to survive just for the hope of not letting this hope die!) Or is it an admission that I’m weaker than the person I wrote this song to? (i.e. I’ll try to not let you down … just wait!)

I don’t know the meaning for this opening stanza either:

When you, when you forget your name
When old faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up

Why is the author the cause of awakening? At this point I could [and I guess do!] raise the first movie parallel this stanza prompts: the scene from The Notebook. It’s a touching movie; a hopeful one … an idealistic possibility.

What about another possibility? In many songs invoking the 2nd person, I question whether the conversation extends to a human-God dialogue. This doesn’t work as a human song, however. But what about a divine one?

What if God says this to us?:

Bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up

Unfortunately, the verses don’t work as a possible monologue from God. (Confession: I often interpret these “you” songs with divine parallels even though the original authors didn’t intend so … it’s faithful playtime). Even though the words don’t work as a divine monologue, they work as a dialogue:

[God]:
When you, when you forget your name
When old faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up

[Human]:
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

[God]:
Bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up

[Human]:
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

(repeated: a mantra response to the ‘fleeting-ness’)

Even though I’ve used this song on loop as a prayer, I must refer back to when I first heard it Friday at noon. The small speakers cut above the conversations amidst the long line for food. It wasn’t the words … it was the melody … that cut through the clamor. Thank God!

So I’m starting to buy into this whole independent thing. To be fair, I’ve been on the cusp of some breakthroughs for artists/companies/etc “selling out.” It’s been fun. I bought my first Dashboard Confessional CD back with The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most (was that 2001?). I’ve even been a fan of and followed Jon McLaughlin since October 2004; if you haven’t seen it yet, he’s been hot on iTunes for the past three weeks. Hehehe – this is a good statistic: Jon has 8 of my 25 songs most-listened-to in my iTunes (and the minimum barrier is 82 complete plays … and counting). He’s awesome. His “A Song You Might Hear in a Wedding” is my most-listened-to song and has a good 20-play barrier to being surpassed by a song from Wicked.

I have to half-heartedly confess, in spite of both those instances, I’m a big-store consumer. (For a while I used Barnes & Noble’s web store for book orders, but once they discontinued my credit card relationship with MBNA (and hence my benefits minimized), I gradually switched over to Amazon because of the ease-of-use.) In an everyday parallel: why repeatedly pay $1.50 or even $1.75 for a 20oz bottled soft drink at the University’s Food Service vendor (I’m convinced it’s Sodexho … probably) when I can get a 24-pack of 24oz bottles for $7.98? Most often I taper my consumption so it’s a combination of the two.

Ok, enough of my UofC-inspired confession. This afternoon I had a fun, unexpected moment. In the midst of my work stress and post-class pondering was a comment-aside that caught me: “hold on, I have to love this for a second.”

The comment came when I was put on hold in a telephone call. I was ordering a camera part and the supplier had to transfer me to his knowledgeable colleague. Once I reached ‘said colleague,’ he picked up the phone and told me to “hold on, I have to love this for a second.” A comment like that, even with a substantive delay, deserves laughter rather than ire.

Moishe, the knowledgeable colleague, then began to describe to me what was happening. His graphic designer was giving him a proof for a quarter-page advertisement for a magazine highlighting an online community he supports. That same community is one I’m now a part of (it feels so good to say that) and am learning from this summer. “This ad looks so cool, I wish you could see it.” At this point in the conversation I hadn’t said a word. After his uncensored elation, he took my order and repeatedly said how happy he was that things “just seemed to keep working out”. HE KEPT STEALING MY LINE!!!

This is my third interaction with Moishe each interaction has been so professional. He’s a salesperson in a camera outfitter in Ohio. How did I get connected with him? The most amazing blog I’ve ever been a part of! http://www.strobist.com This is more extensive than most books and shows why I’m addicted to Web 2.0 movements. Even with all of Gmail’s “bells and whistles,” Strobist is cooler because it has a dedicated author and an interactive community behind it. It offers advice for how to use off-camera flash techniques for photography. In regrettably simple words: it helps make my photos look less like crap.

I’m starting to buy into this whole independent thing. Strobist is notorious for teaching how to take discarded cardboard cereal boxes and turn them into light-shaping tools. It’s about being cheap … and practical. There’s a mis-identification of (? misnomer doesn’t work here, but I’m meaning: “gross error in attributing”) institutions with effective communications. (I can give you a long list of institutions who suck at sharing their message(s)). It’s also an error to ascribe effective communicators with the label “poster child” or “in-crowd.” Hmmm … these distinctions weren’t as clear as I’d hoped: realize that the efficacy of communication does not have a “tight-knit” correlation of being under-girded by top-down systems — for example: even though Strobist has the structures of flickr and Blogger, if it doesn’t have its users, its communication sucks. With all of my frustration with “systems” and institutions, Strobist is a nice remedy for showing new possibilities. And comments like Moishe’s are the biggest motivators. The excitement is contagious!

One of the annoying truths about creativity and communication:

when you’re ‘on’,
you’re ON!
when you’re ‘off’,
it sucks.

Last night I thought that truth held fast … until I woke up this morning and checked my e-mail. I had several great comments throughout the day from friends saying that the University of Chicago Divinity School Ministry Program’s e-mails I sent out last night were awesome. It produced some excitement. Then came the criticism. Some of the personal e-mails I sent last night got responses ranging from “Ok Adam, that was more than my mid-day 3-sentence reasonable reading length” to “Adam, I couldn’t understand it. Your thoughts went all over the place and even re-reading it didn’t help.”

That response hurt. Exampled in a lackluster set of pictures from an event this afternoon, my creativity and communication skills are in a funk.

Luckily, the desolation gets little chance to set in and ferment. I’m not completely convinced this is a good thing (we all need lows from time to time in order to learn), but my nightly renewal came from the blogosphere. I continuously track (on last count) 55 different blogs. They include topics such as religion, buddies’ reflections, non-profit marketing advice, biblical studies blogs from professors, multimedia and motion graphics firms, advanced photography techniques, and many others.

Here are four entries that are ‘worth’ it on their own, but put together begin to feed off of each other:

First is an entry in CreativeThink called The “Thuban Phenomenon” and has a sermon illustration I know I’ll use in a congregation in 2.5 years. Anyone have a good answer to that? I’m reading John Henry Cardinal Newman, so I’m a little skewed at the moment.

Second, is a site I know I’m going to use in a workshop I’m leading in late August on the relationship between spirituality and technology. A blogging nun, who recently spoke at my school’s ministry conference, put up a link to “3 Minute Retreat”s. Even though this says three minutes, I know it’ll absorb a Saturday afternoon in preparation for the workshop just going through the archives and pulling out gems.

Third, is one of my favorite movements: Church Marketing Sucks. This site rocks. They have a blog entry about church architecture that is awesome. While most churches cannot alter their architecture if their building already exists, there’re still tons of possibilities to make little alterations after this inspiration.

Finally, my favorite biblical studies web blog is in conjunction with my favorite biblical studies website: www.ntgateway.com The administrator, Mark Goodacre (a prof. in Duke’s Religion dept.), wrote an entry on the Seven Deadly Sins in Writing. I wish I’d read this prior to the slew of mid-terms I handed in last week. It would no doubt have helped.

After the initial read, I couldn’t stop laughing:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6604879.stm

Apparently staunch creationists have their own version of creativity (do they see the irony?). Nevertheless, in spite of the motivations for such a project, it’s still a piece of art. And it sounds like the material of my dreams as a kid when I played with Legos. I always saw in our “illustrated bibles” at home a version of the Ark looking down through the many floors (of course Noah built an atrium in the Ark – right!?!?). I specifically remember the Hippopotomi in a pool on the lowest level.

If only we could each have our own arks — then our imaginations would have all the reductionism and blending of the stories as the BBC article did of the Noah narrative. Let’s not mention Gilgamesh. (PS – I ripped this story from Jim West — follow his blog, it’s great!)

Edit: Link inactive for Jim West’s old blog; his new one is at: jwest.wordpress.com

It’s springtime. My windows are open, my fans are pumping optimum air through my room, and I’m in a different time. It’s bizarre how fresh air — living air — can invoke nostalgic moments. Entering my room after my shower this morning it felt like I’d just moved into DDH. Even though that was back in August, it’s that time now as well.

Nostalgia is powerful and dangerous. All of the angst from this previous winter is pushed back to the recesses of my mind; yet, I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing. Uncertainty about classes brought out some amazing results. This detached sense about my classes I’m now nursing probably can’t replicate the Winter’s results. Then again, I don’t think I want it to. My focus is somewhere else and it feels awesome. My next 1000:1 will come out on Monday and that e-mail will hopefully refine how I’m choosing to focus on something else. My productivity has been “through-the-roof” the past three days, but it’s not on schoolwork. :/

Having frequent air-induced memories (at least five per day) has reaffirmed why I love my current Chicago setting. The insight from these recounted memories gives me some new strategies for the future. I’m not going to wear myself out this summer. I’m going to casually blog (non 1000:1) more. I’m going to take more chances and not worry so much about the anticipated results. Nostalgia from weather is liberating. It feels awesome.

OK … I have to admit: I’m a junkie. I’m a junkie with a long of things — news, technology, music … everything. There are many things in life which cause binges, but rarely do they cause binges combined with anticipation. This is finally stirring me to that level, though.

Go back three years. In the summer of 2003 I was working in Seattle and caught a news flash: 2Advanced (the most innovative website/design firm I’ve ever seen) had planned a special media event. The invitations weren’t quite apple-esque (in that they told practically nothing other than what would be on a ‘save-the-date’ postcard), but they were interest-piqueing. They showcased a launch event at a rented theater, a lineup of techno DJs, and a killer new website. Then came by biggest fear: they disabled their current website.

This website was beyond cool. It was extraordinary. Throughout most of my senior year of high school I would spent my Friday nights and weekends learning to do HTML (now I laugh thinking back to that), databases (yeah, the start of a lot), and dreaming of new ways to solve all of the church’s organization problems using technology (even more laughable than working hard to learn HTML). 2Advanced was my site I repeatedly checked in on for creativity.

Creativity comes to me when I see other things that trigger moments of awe. Sometimes it’s a by-product of asking ‘how did they do that’ and other times it’s a tangent that was worth following. 2Advanced was that.

So when I was working in Seattle, they disabled their current website (v3 Expansions) and instead put a timer counting down until the release party for the new version. I stayed up the night before … routinely checking to see if they were leaking it early to the server. Fat chance.

When I got into work the next morning it was the first thing I loaded, and it was SO worth it. The animation flew at me while the music gave it a driving force making me want to stay on the site longer and longer. It was like a thriller book that I couldn’t put down, but I had to since I was at work. I explored most areas of the site that evening after walking back to the apartment.

…

It seems 2Advanced is at it again, but this time there’re even more tell-tale signs it’s coming:
1) In the past couple of days, an overlay layer has appeared in the graphics and Flash on their site showing dirt, grime and noise. The site doesn’t look broken, but it’s not as clean as it used to be. (The update has to be coming soon.)
2) Eric Jordan (the creative genius at 2Advanced), didn’t release a May audio mix on his site (www.neverrain.com) because he had a VERY IMPORTANT project at 2Advanced.
3) On 2Advanced’s website, they announced in December that v5 is coming in early 2006.

So I’m anxious.

I’m ready.

I’m in that mode where hours and hours of techno mixes from NeverRain definitely aren’t helping the time go by. Although they definitely do help me keep pace for my side-projects I’m working on.

Texas – Oklahoma – Kansas – Missouri – Iowa – Illinois – Indiana – Ohio – Kentucky – West Virginia – Virginia

Those are the states I was traveling in during a four-day period. That’s over 20% of the states in the union (or — more if you go by some of the stories we heard in Virginia — some still yearn for closure (on both sides)). It’s been a long two weeks — and it’s going to be an even longer summer.

This past week I hiked with four friends on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia in a 33-mile section around Roanoke. This is my fourth time doing a four-day section during May. Normally I love the trail. This year, however, my schedule was so out-of-whack that I didn’t train nearly as much as I should have. Last spring, while living in Ft. Worth, I trained at least three (and usually four) days a week on the stairmasters at the TCU Rec. Center for at least an hour (usually over 150 flights of stairs). For the past year, ever since I left TCU for the trail last year, I’ve yet to live in the same place for three weeks straight without at least a two-day period of living elsewhere.

That schedule has taken many forms. Last summer I was working in Keokuk but doing camps, mission trips, and moving around periodically to different congregation members gracious enough to host me. Then came Europe. I was all over the place. Then came winter break with my graduation trip to Ft. Worth and then my crazy schedule this spring, with the peak movement during my seminary visits when I woke up in seven beds in a ten day span; and it was never with a girl! (That note was for those friends laughing and thinking they know me better).

So I didn’t train as well for the trail as I should have. Even still, I definitely enjoyed it – as the pictures will show once I get them onto my computer.

Looking back at the events right before the trail, I’ve finally hit an unexpected transition point in my life. Before, for the past year, I’ve always had stuff in multiple places. This spring I had stuff in four places at times – in my office at TCU, in Daryl Schmidt’s and Judy Dodd’s house from when I was housesitting, in David Gunn’s condo for when he let me stay while Daryl was sick, and at my home in Iowa. Two weeks ago, right before the trail, I made my last trip of the semester back down to Ft. Worth. I picked up the rest of my stuff, worked on a bunch of transition issues, saw friends for the last time in a while, and completed a phase in my life.

My motto before the trip: I’m leaving TCU.
My motto after the trip: I’m getting ready for Chicago.

I shouldn’t be able to mark this transition this clearly. There’s one thing that’s adding the clarity: everything is in one place. Having all of my stuff at home hasn’t happened in a LONG time. Having everything that professors, friends, family and others have invested in me coming all together and resting on each next step I make is humbling. Having a 30 lb. backpack resting on my waist and shoulders for each step up and down a mountain when I hadn’t prepared well enough was also humbling.

Each step I now take is training. I’m not sure for what it’s training me. It’s like walking on the Trail without the map – the trails have ups, downs, level areas, and nice views; but, in the end, you only know you’ve reached the end when you stop. You don’t need a map and you don’t need detailed instructions … you just need the training.