tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975710322621676612023-11-16T08:48:52.086-08:00russwriterRusshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-82051004630140444372018-08-04T10:18:00.000-07:002018-08-04T10:30:00.045-07:00Building Bridges, Not Walls<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We live in a world bent on division. As Americans, we sink -- stuck in the </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">quicksand of dissension where civil discourse cannot exist. Even before the election of November 2016, we seemed to have drawn permanent, inked lines in a bitter concrete jungle.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since then, we have become more and more concerned with being right than seeking compromise. We seem more focused on political parties and sides than what is best for all of us as a nation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I have sung with the Turtle Creek Chorale (mostly gay) men’s chorus for nine years. Last month, around 150 of us embarked on our Friendship Tour, coasting out of Dallas on three buses on a Thursday morning, June 21, for Tulsa, Oklahoma; Little Rock, Arkansas; Shreveport, Louisiana; and Tyler, Texas. Our mission, as always, was to share beautiful music and bring joy, but this time, to communities outside of -- and most likely very different from -- our own. More importantly, we hoped to seek compromise and unity with the listeners along the way. Without preaching or criticizing, we sought to build bridges by sharing our songs and stories and perhaps baring our souls in the process. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something unexpected happened.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We absolutely did those things. We sang our hearts out in four churches over the course of our tour. I am quite certain we brought joy to numerous people in our audience. We probably even changed some lives for the better. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I was changed, too.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One portion of the tour changed my life profoundly. We had the option of going to sing at Central High School in Little Rock. We were told we would literally get on the buses, go to the campus, sing one song, and be on our way, so I contemplated skipping this portion of the tour to rest or sight see, but I ended up going. From the moment the buses pulled up to the front of Central High School, the school attended by the Little Rock 9 at the height of desegregation in the late 1950s, I knew this was sacred ground. The building stood boldly, proudly, and beautifully as we silently and reverently exited the buses. We sang Gilpin’s “Why We Sing” on those hallowed steps, and we welcomed those nine pioneers into our fold. Two people wandered upon the scene and listened, but we sang for the Little Rock Nine. If eight of them weren’t still living, I could swear each of their ghosts sang with us. We absolutely sang on their strong shoulders. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After we finished, we took some time to wander around the grounds, viewing monuments and just taking it all in. As I quietly walked towards the bus, admiring the towering trees in that historic neighborhood, my friend Kevin Hodges said, “Can you imagine if these trees could talk? What they’ve seen?” I could have sworn I heard them whisper. Trees speak truths if you stop and listen. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rest of the tour bred an abundance of profound moments. Every audience reflected humanity back at us as we sang day after day and night after night for four days. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We built bridges with our words, stories, and melodies, but the audiences met us in the middle of those bridges. They applauded, smiled, and cried. Many of them stood when we sang “Stand Up.” When we sang the African-American National Anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” African-American audience members stood tall and proud. Almost all of our venues filled to bursting throughout the tour. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the most meaningful moments for me occurred at our least attended performance at Centenary College in Shreveport. An older gentleman, seated in the second or third row, appeared fairly solemn throughout the concert. He maintained a stoic expression throughout. I should have been watching our conductor, Sean Baugh, throughout the concert, but I digress. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I noticed from the first note of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” that he perked up and sang or mouthed every word. I don’t mean he mouthed a few words. He was in sync with us, the Turtle Creek Chorale from Dallas, Texas, for every syllable. That is what music does. It brings people from different places, figuratively and literally, together. Some lines in that song seem especially resonant and relevant to the climate we live in today. “People talking without speaking...people hearing without listening…” The moment shared between that man in the audience and the rest of us on stage and in that building was the most important kind of bridge made of holy humanity. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTtEXmV0VlBs6MQ9ZjX8W7CKGQXvslKPU-Hfkw4Q4VarLRhRE6kqWI_rO3x7m6O4dVS82GVZyuqGF-w_lJivSAtsgiBy91Cm_7emgP1L-eVNTQN_pZDPzhGwzpYTfRXB_WsSMMukPyNad/s1600/Gathered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTtEXmV0VlBs6MQ9ZjX8W7CKGQXvslKPU-Hfkw4Q4VarLRhRE6kqWI_rO3x7m6O4dVS82GVZyuqGF-w_lJivSAtsgiBy91Cm_7emgP1L-eVNTQN_pZDPzhGwzpYTfRXB_WsSMMukPyNad/s320/Gathered.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was privileged to share one of my favorite </span><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "arial"; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brené </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brown passages at one point in the Friendship Tour concert from her book </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Braving the Wilderness. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; text-indent: 36pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It explains how the power of music brings people together:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Music, like all art, gives pain and our most wrenching emotions voice, </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">language, and form, so it can be recognized and shared… The world</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">feels high lonesome and heartbroken to me right now. We’ve sorted</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ourselves into factions based on our politics and ideology… But </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">rather than coming together and sharing our experiences through </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">song and story, we’re screaming at one another from further and </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">further away… Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">another is grounded in love and compassion (44-45).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s what music did for us on this tour. It brought us all closer together, within our own choral community, our local communities, and to the communities beyond our comfort zones. We thought we went on this tour to build bridges to bring strangers into our fold. We discovered they were not only willing to come hear our songs and stories; they were willing to build bridges to meet us in the middle. I hope we can find a way to do that in all of our daily lives before it’s too late. The middle place holds a truth, a peaceful calm, and a spirit that goes beyond sides and you and me. I long for a day we can all meet there and make music together. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brown, Brené. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Braving the Wilderness: the Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Vermilion, 2017.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Simon, Paul. “The Sound of Silence.” Columbia Records, 1964.</span></div>
Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-30892154821297875332017-07-28T07:50:00.000-07:002017-07-28T10:27:24.718-07:00Be Still and Float<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Impressed at myself and the fact that I’d made it in without falling into the river, I lounged comfortably in my tube in the Guadalupe, except for the cold water chill grazing my bum. I’d been both excited and anxious about this trip for months. I needed to get away. I wasn’t taking a full-on vacation this summer, so this weekend getaway was my summer trip. I travelled to Austin with ten friends for a long weekend of relaxing, eating, and tubing. This would be my first time floating the river, at almost forty-two years of age, hence my anxiety. I was also the only single on this trip. There were five couples (who I adore), and me, the proverbial eleventh wheel. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Is this it?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I thought, as I floated immobile in the still river. “When do we start moving?” I inquired to our group. This was a piece of cake. I was lying in my tube feeling completely relaxed. “Can you pass me a Modelo?” I savored the sound of the top popping and the taste of the icy beer on my lips. I could feel the cold water on my feet and my seat. I was surrounded by people I care about. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I could get used to this. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">And we did, indeed, start to move down the river, albeit at a glacial pace. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The night before we went to the Saltlick and had delicious barbecue. We stayed in a glorious, gorgeous cabin off the beaten path. The deer were plentiful, and it was such a nice escape. That morning, I stole away to the front porch with my coffee for a silent, still, introverted moment. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SjVjJ5sAEp61sc6HHVPMZBkn0WiSaaEB9dl-5JwUgZUzcHUa4b7_FejL8E35c6pzqMBus-2Yd4PAJs25uimfqsi2uMU2NyADARshDCRnNrC2-B_seCZRx5IVr_0poCnARzSc3R7c8SQX/s1600/tree+from+porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SjVjJ5sAEp61sc6HHVPMZBkn0WiSaaEB9dl-5JwUgZUzcHUa4b7_FejL8E35c6pzqMBus-2Yd4PAJs25uimfqsi2uMU2NyADARshDCRnNrC2-B_seCZRx5IVr_0poCnARzSc3R7c8SQX/s320/tree+from+porch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Back at the river, it was my friend Stephen’s birthday, so we decided while all eleven of us were floating in the Guadalupe River, we should sing happy birthday! Because eighty percent of us sing in the Turtle Creek Chorale men’s chorus, we harmonized instinctively, and this was no mediocre rendition. Everyone around us was smiling enrapt by the music. A girl floating with a group nearby proclaimed, “I’m Lauren! It’s my birthday, too!” So we immediately sang the song again for her. The river was filled with all kinds of happy people, and it was a joyous moment. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we finished our second round of happy birthday, we realized a group of ominous clouds were gathering and approaching us. We actually began to blow backwards. It wasn’t long before we had blown back past where we entered the river in the first place. Then it began to rain. It was chilly. I shivered. We felt annoyed, uncomfortable, giggly, and exhilarated simultaneously. I will never forget that indescribable moment. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rain finally dissipated, and we took turns pulling our crew in the right direction. The remainder of the float was relatively calm, until the last bit. We actually picked up quite a bit of speed, and our twines broke, so we got separated a few times. I had feared this from the beginning, but I managed just fine. Another storm was brewing, and exiting the river in the right spot proved to be challenging, but we made it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That night we headed to the Gristmill for dinner. As we waited for our table on the palatial patio, we marveled at the seventy-five degree weather on a mid-July evening in Gruene, Texas. As we ate our southern faire together, framed in a peaceful, calming sunset, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkprhhD_GIF4A58tYSn2hbR8RWnzuDyUIm4DM3FfPleqEChk-uuVNj7gYMlloXVp4zBNbWGy_6HVauF40ZFbSKSbZ08fYqKMsXAp2U0zauzLS4r47EFCL835Y400crSxWRSbXQ7V9YDEq2/s1600/gristmill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="1080" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkprhhD_GIF4A58tYSn2hbR8RWnzuDyUIm4DM3FfPleqEChk-uuVNj7gYMlloXVp4zBNbWGy_6HVauF40ZFbSKSbZ08fYqKMsXAp2U0zauzLS4r47EFCL835Y400crSxWRSbXQ7V9YDEq2/s320/gristmill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sunday morning, as I drank my coffee on the porch of that charming cabin, I felt as if I floated amidst the strong, rooted, sprawling trees. I have always been in love with the trees and think we can learn so much from them in their beautiful wisdom. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UIUWOfwP9pQHsOj7F213UvBLkhvUjoEOf9MAAPRkaLedKHAD9IKf-sGiAyizAvdNIfCl5SiR4q6Ph5fp9UEi8t6k75aQGtFcnGWDSWXaESP6F4p7u6d8DLIzpV0zlZZgccr-1ihS-Sqe/s1600/tree+at+cabin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0UIUWOfwP9pQHsOj7F213UvBLkhvUjoEOf9MAAPRkaLedKHAD9IKf-sGiAyizAvdNIfCl5SiR4q6Ph5fp9UEi8t6k75aQGtFcnGWDSWXaESP6F4p7u6d8DLIzpV0zlZZgccr-1ihS-Sqe/s320/tree+at+cabin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our entire group broke bread together one last time at brunch in Austin at Cafe Bouldin. We ate well on this trip. My friend Stephen and I both ordered a drink called a “Beyonce” and I proceeded to ask the group, “Does anyone want to taste my 'Beyonce'? It’s delicious!” and we all laughed.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the waiter asked how he should split our checks, everyone paired off, and I replied, “I’m alone.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He replied, “I prefer -- independent.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m totally fine either way.” I smiled at him.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On our way out of town, Lars, Stephen, and I (I carpooled with them) stopped by Barton Springs for one last vacation experience. I could check another first off my list. I jumped into the cold spring. My feet barely touched the rocky bottom. I propelled myself up and down with my toes. I felt invigorated, relaxed, centered, and buoyant. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbYee2RBwbVMX5To6B_7lVs7iJM9Z-A6-ygpZdKGuozc5wkCyEcLcs4rohfQk4uHyjE4eBP_4FmzCxVb_sqmq_WoJANd2xqXfrWUXyUehCZZ4IwcDkrVJ1_aTM9oiTjzhEAvRLQWOV6Wp/s1600/Russ+Barton+Springs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbYee2RBwbVMX5To6B_7lVs7iJM9Z-A6-ygpZdKGuozc5wkCyEcLcs4rohfQk4uHyjE4eBP_4FmzCxVb_sqmq_WoJANd2xqXfrWUXyUehCZZ4IwcDkrVJ1_aTM9oiTjzhEAvRLQWOV6Wp/s320/Russ+Barton+Springs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t take an exotic, far-away vacation this summer, but I’m so thankful for this long weekend away from the monotonous details that can weigh me down. Life is about so many things, but the most important pieces are those tiny moments that end up causing us to bubble up with smiles, laughter, and life-affirming emotions. Like when you look a friend in the eye across the room and share a knowing feeling of love and understanding. Or when you laugh until you cry. Or you’re just sitting on an unfamiliar porch with a cup of coffee and the trees, and you are reminded of everything that is actually familiar and true. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In that last moment of our trip, as I floated and bounced in that cold, crisp water, I reflected on these feelings and memories, and I looked forward to the next tiny moment that would give me life’s grandest feelings and carry me on. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-67053914171128031252016-08-02T15:38:00.002-07:002016-08-03T06:46:21.637-07:00Carpe Diem<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We descend three flights of stairs like marching soldiers drenched in solid black and palpable anticipation. Voices silent and minds stilled, the cacophonous sound of our black dress shoes on the metal steps echoes throughout the stairwell and fills me with adrenaline. The past year of preparation scatters in my mind like Polaroids, and I feel overwhelmed in this culminating moment.</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Almost a year ago, we began working on songs for GALA Chorus Festival -- a five day event in Denver where over 150 choruses from around the world come together to perform, listen, and appreciate choral music. Our artistic director, Sean Baugh, hand-picked songs dealing with life and death and seizing the day. Our set was aptly entitled, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carpe Diem: Songs of Life and Death</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and included “The Music of Living,” “Requiem,” “I Love You/What a Wonderful World,” “The Sound of Silence,” “No Time,” and “Angels Calling.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I fell in love with the sounds and words of each of these songs. As GALA neared, I could have grown tired of them, but I came to love them even more. The theme of living life to the fullest resonated with me, and the lyrics and melodies of these songs were gently etched on my heart.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each Tuesday night at rehearsal, I had the honor and privilege of singing with Turtle Creek Chorale brothers I cared about, adding meaning to our Carpe Diem set.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On June 12, 2016, (three-and-a-half weeks before our GALA performance) forty-nine innocent people were brutally murdered at PULSE, a gay dance club in Orlando, Florida. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And just like that, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Carpe Diem: Songs About Life and Death</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> became much more than a set of songs for GALA.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read Stacy Horn’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Imperfect Harmony: Finding Happiness Singing with Others</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a few years ago, and singing with the chorale constantly reminds me of her words: “In times of sorrow (and celebration) there are two other things to believe in: music and each other” (18).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The PULSE shooting took place in the two o’clock hour on a Sunday morning. About sixty-five hours later, we (the Turtle Creek Chorale) were waiting to go onstage to sing a concert for healing for Orlando and our community. We were ready to sing all of the songs from our GALA set but had not planned on this dress rehearsal. While the shooting had diminished our spirits, this performance, and the audience’s gracious, loving response fueled our souls and our songs with emotion, passion, and healing energy. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s what music does, and it’s not just the performers. It is a multi-layered, magical union between the performers on stage with each other, their conductor, and the audience.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward back to GALA festival, where choruses from all over the world -- </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 26.4px; white-space: pre-wrap;">including Beijing, Germany, and yes, Orlando -- to name a few,</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 1.8; white-space: pre-wrap;"> performed. The Orlando chorus wept openly in response to the audience’s reaction during their poignant, life-changing set. Grief, healing, and gratitude overflowed in the hall.</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wednesday, July 6, at two o'clock in the afternoon, we descend the stairs, ready to sing</i><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</i><br />
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<i style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We wait in </i><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">the wings, sharing silent smiles of brotherhood and sneaking last minute </i><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">hand-squeezes. </i><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We walk onto the stage in unison and instinctively turn to face our conductor. From the first downbeat, we are in synch. Sean’s conducting is more gently precise than ever, and we are hanging on his every move. Crystalline sound permeates Ellie Caulkins Opera House. Darkness shrouds the audience, so we can barely see them, but we can feel them. After each song, the audience erupts in applause, and we receive several standing ovations throughout the set. I have never felt more connected to the singers around me, the conductor in front of me, and the packed audience from floor to ceiling. The moment is enveloped in the music of living. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As our set concludes and the final note echoes throughout the hall, we exit the stage and walk into the lobby. The audience greets us with applause and tears. A woman stands to my right, looks me in the eyes with tears flowing out of hers and whispers, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I whisper right back to her and look up, continuing to whisper, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” in my mind. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I make a conscious effort to embrace this feeling -- this music of experience, this indescribable meaning ricocheting around and within me -- and I am longing to write it all down. </span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m one day poorer, another day singler, and we’re all going to die, but together with all these people I have raised my voice and once more I have come with joy.” -- Stacy Horn</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f1f4f5; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Horn, Stacy. </span><span style="background-color: #f1f4f5; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Imperfect Harmony: Finding Happiness Singing with Others</span><span style="background-color: #f1f4f5; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Algonquin: 2013. Print.</span>Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-21525001671646696252016-06-22T16:15:00.000-07:002017-06-12T15:35:36.339-07:00Love Again, More... (remembering PULSE Orlando)"Nothing helped until the day she took a tablet and pencil into the basement and moved the event out of her and onto paper, where it was reshaped into a kind of simple equation: loss equaled the need to love again, more. With this, she was given peace." from <i>home safe</i> by Elizabeth Berg<br />
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Monday evening, June 13, I started a new book. I gasped when I read this last paragraph in the prologue and knew I had to write about Orlando, even if it was a selfish act.<br />
<br />
Saturday night, June 11, I sang with the Turtle Creek Chorale at the Dallas City Performance Hall in the Arts District. It was the third performance in our "Heartstrings" series, our final concert of the season. I joined several friends to celebrate the birthday of our friend Matthew at The Mitchell downtown after the show. It was an amazing weekend and a beautiful evening with friends and family.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning, June 12, I woke up to news that there had been a shooting at a gay dance club called PULSE in Orlando -- at least 20 people were dead. Later that day I would learn that 40 people were dead and countless injured.<br />
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I felt physically sick and emotionally numb. It could have been me.<br />
<br />
The first gay establishment I ever went to was The Village Station on Cedar Springs in Dallas, Texas, and I went frequently in my twenties. I was probably 19 the first time I went (over 20 years ago...I know) with a group of friends, on an 18-and-up night. That first time was one of the scariest, most liberating experiences of my life. I was still wary of "coming out" at this point, and I was surrounded by so many diverse people, but we were the same, and there was no judgment, no pressure to conform or force ourselves to be something we weren't. At that time, complete, unconditional acceptance was something I hadn't found, and to be honest, I was fearful of it. I had been so conditioned (by my church and society as a whole, never by my family) to think something was wrong with me, and I should continue to pray and seek to change to become a whole, "normal" person.<br />
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The church, society, and I were wrong, and going to The Village, in addition to meeting several friends who loved me unconditionally in college, was one of the first steps to understanding and loving myself.<br />
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During those Village Station hay days, I can remember that euphoric feeling of dancing to my favorite songs, like the latest Madonna, Britney, Whitney, Toni, and so on. I vividly remember one night when my friends and I were standing out on the patio, and the pounding heavily-bassed intro of Whitney Houston's "It's Not Right, but It's OK" ignited the air, and I must have broken a record making it to the dance floor. I felt so alive and free.<br />
<br />
It could have been me.<br />
<br />
I hope and pray that everyone one of those precious lives that were lost at PULSE that night were filled with a sense of liberation, belonging, and joy until the moment their lives were stolen. I hope they heard their favorite songs that night and spent it with some of their favorite people.<br />
<br />
The weekend before this atrocity, my dear friend Dustin and I went to Station 4 (formerly The Village Station...yes, it's still there!) to a benefit concert with Debbie Gibson and Tiffany. It was an absolute blast. The place was packed, and everyone was excited and overjoyed.<br />
<br />
It could have been us.<br />
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I avoided the news as much as possible that Sunday after the massacre in Orlando. We had our TCC awards banquet that night, and I helped my friend Doug with the Year-In-Review as Marge Williams. It was a blessing to make people laugh. That night when I got in bed, I read an article about the aftermath in the PULSE nightclub -- when responders were walking around identifying the bodies early Sunday morning -- cell phones were ringing, chiming, and buzzing with unanswered calls and texts. I was haunted by that never ending space between those lost and their loved ones that could never be filled -- at least not physically with "I love you's" or embraces. <br />
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Tuesday, June 14, I had the honor of singing with my Turtle Creek Chorale brothers at my church, the Cathedral of Hope, in a healing concert for Orlando and for those hurting in the community. We raised over $15,000 for the victims and their families. There were over 2,000 people in attendance, and almost 30,000 online attendees.<br />
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When we (the Turtle Creek Chorale chorus) walked into the main building of the Cathedral of Hope to perform, it was physically and emotionally overwhelming. There was standing room only and dozens of police officers were in attendance. It immediately brought tears to my eyes. I was so grateful for those officers that night.<br />
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The first song we sang was a mash-up of "I Love You/What a Wonderful World." When I looked out at the multitudes in the audience, their misty eyes and body language, said, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much." And I felt the same way. The grief, gratitude, and emotion permeated the air in the room. It was a heartbreaking, yet profoundly beautiful expression of humanity.<br />
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I held my emotions in check until Camerata, one of our small groups, sang "MLK" by U2. The lyrics had never been so moving: "Sleep, sleep tonight, and may your dreams be realized..."<br />
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That night as I went to bed, I was still angry, sad, and scared for our world and community, but I felt a little more peaceful, and I finally slept.<br />
<br />
When massacres like this happen, I get angry, sad, and doubtful. I get angry at the shooter, and angry at God. I cannot and will not believe that "everything happens for a reason" and "God let this happen" and all that. I even had one of my pastors pray with me last Wednesday night at church because I was so filled with anger and doubt.<br />
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I refuse, however, to lose all hope and faith. And since I feel the need to do something, I will continue to love others and share light in the world. I will not combat hate with hate. I will temper hate and darkness with love and light. There is no other way I can see through it.<br />
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Monday, when I was frantically working out (finally), I had my phone on shuffle. "Afterlife" by Ingrid Michaelson came on, and I immediately thought of those angels who lost their lives at PULSE in Orlando:<br />
<br />
"When the world is breaking down around you<br />
Taking everything you know<br />
What you didn't know<br />
Is that we can go forever if we want to<br />
We can live inside of a moment<br />
The one that we own<br />
<br />
You and me we got this<br />
You and me we're beautiful, beautiful<br />
<br />
We all, we all, we're gonna be alright<br />
We got, we got, we always got the fight in us<br />
We all, we all, we're gonna live tonight<br />
Like there's no tomorrow 'cause we're the afterlife..."<br />
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You can watch the video here which is SO relevant and worth viewing and listening:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uf_QhUZX3BM">AFTERLIFE by Ingrid Michaelson</a><br />
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It's ok to be afraid, but I will not live in fear, and I will not dim my light. I hope you will do the same. Live, love, and share light, and don't let anyone or anything cover you in darkness.<br />
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I'll close with this. Sunday, there was a vigil in Orlando for those lives that were lost that horrific night. There was a rainbow in the sky that afternoon/evening. It's imperative that we understand (whether it's a metaphor or your reality) that God put a rainbow in this vast, complex sky for every single one of us. End of story. Or, perhaps, that's just the beginning.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKFjapQfPjQO_RnwZn1qazjbbfKK_xXgVvLZO4QcwbdKNmIwM76ghE9G17dsPJAnqzOAu6n2cGfG9_nS-txPiBxgoSC_oA2AZOCx8fCjaVAZHyA99rz49bgugzxfNpN5kpfJVOqaienbI/s1600/13442334_10209100679657074_9106830580705292823_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKFjapQfPjQO_RnwZn1qazjbbfKK_xXgVvLZO4QcwbdKNmIwM76ghE9G17dsPJAnqzOAu6n2cGfG9_nS-txPiBxgoSC_oA2AZOCx8fCjaVAZHyA99rz49bgugzxfNpN5kpfJVOqaienbI/s320/13442334_10209100679657074_9106830580705292823_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<i> I took this photo at the Interfaith Peace Chapel June 14, 2016</i><br />
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Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-78103771837477772242016-05-02T19:21:00.001-07:002016-05-02T19:21:20.181-07:00Do Not Demo<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This evening after work, I stopped at the Katy Trail by way of Reverchon Park.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked up the familiar concrete ramp and steps to the Thomson Overlook</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And made my way to my favorite stretch between the overlook and American Airlines Center.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This time I decided to walk down to where the trail begins, marked “0.0 miles.”</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-01c1a1b6-745e-ae0a-73ff-89df3fab36c7" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I noticed if you look at the other end of that marker, it is also marked “3.5 miles.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I smiled to myself and thought how beginnings and endings get mixed up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I decided that I would, for the first time, journey from this end to the beginning.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I tread briskly along the darker path marked “pedestrians only.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stopped at every water fountain.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had nowhere to be and no obligations on this Monday evening. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked, jogged, and side-stepped, but my mind was lifted and still.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought about the trees along the trail -- beside, behind, and before me -- </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How each one had her own story, her roots and her branches gnarled and sprawled in majestic, muddy, scarred storytelling, like every being on that trail.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I walked, jogged, and sidestepped until I reached “3.50 miles” at the other end/beginning at </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Airline Rd.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stood there embracing the moment and the extraordinary, chilly breeze of May 2, 2016.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then I remembered I had to walk back to where I started.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I jogged on the way back until</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I noticed a wall with some words painted on it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I paused and took a picture, as I often do, afraid of forgetting moments. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do Not Demo</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Do Not Demo</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Do Not Demo” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX-Ed_RGi4l1tEu-t9qzloeoP_cwX5clARv0IgFSj3UsFa5EhvvQtXBP2xORgmNBgeSp04J1MyxsQI5dEN_p7NTyAsMeHQW6xLuRCA6lQCaOZRPwnsbF2BSa4ENtSHge0ksod-DRVxianx/s1600/do+not+demo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX-Ed_RGi4l1tEu-t9qzloeoP_cwX5clARv0IgFSj3UsFa5EhvvQtXBP2xORgmNBgeSp04J1MyxsQI5dEN_p7NTyAsMeHQW6xLuRCA6lQCaOZRPwnsbF2BSa4ENtSHge0ksod-DRVxianx/s1600/do+not+demo.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The words declared insistently three times, demanding to be noticed...like poetry.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took a deep breath and thought about how we tear things down to build them up again and vice versa.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We even tear each other down to build ourselves up. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I walked and jogged and sidestepped the rest of the way back, I stopped at every water fountain. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I returned to my car over two hours and 8.17 miles after I began. And as my journey ended, I had to look back at those trees one last time.</span></div>
Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-81407089156452957932016-03-11T12:43:00.001-08:002016-03-18T14:00:37.145-07:00UnSUNG Heroes<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I found out the programming for our latest Turtle Creek Chorale concert, I have to admit, I was not exactly thrilled. Part of the show would consist of songs dedicated to local community “hero” organizations, which is lovely, songs including Katy Perry’s “Firework” and one of my personal favorites -- “Beautiful City” -- from Stephen Schwartz’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Godspell</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second half of the concert would consist of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, a movement of music Turtle Creek Chorale co-commissioned with several other GALA choruses. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is an original group of songs honoring the life of Tyler Clementi, the Rutgers student who lost his life to suicide in September of 2010. His is not my story to tell, but he was a wonderfully creative, talented gay man who was just starting to come out of the closet and to grow into an amazing, uniquely beautiful human being. His roommate secretly videoed him being intimate with another man and posted it online for the world to see. There is so much more to Tyler than this, and you can read more about Tyler’s life, wonders, and accomplishments at </span><a href="http://www.tylerclementi.org/tylers-story" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.tylerclementi.org/tylers-story</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was hesitant to embrace a group of challenging, unknown songs, that might take me to dark places. I was afraid it would remind me of loved ones I’d known who had lost the will to live and chosen to end it all. I was even more afraid to look in the mirror and see the little boy who could not reconcile who he was with a world and a God that didn’t fit and had those thoughts himself. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was scared this music would break my heart.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it has.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But this beautiful music has an important story to tell. Sometimes our hearts need to break a little bit to become stronger and share in the collected humanity of living. Acknowledging the darkness can even help us create and experience light, and that’s what we are doing by singing this music. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love to read words that change me, that make me better, and add meaning to who I am. There are several texts in this program that have done that for me. If you haven’t discovered it by now, Sean Baugh, our artistic director, is a programming genius.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a line in Katy Perry’s “Firework” that is the bottom line for me. “You don’t have to feel like a wasted space. You’re original, cannot be replaced. If you only knew what the future holds: after a hurricane comes a rainbow.” It might seem simple, but there is beautiful truth in those words. I wish every child (or human being for that matter) who struggles alone in the dark could understand and believe that there is a sliver of rainbow light on the other side of the door waiting after the hurricane. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another song not from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ragtime’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Make them Hear You.” The song opens with, “Go out and tell our story, let it echo far and wide. Make them hear you, make them hear you. How justice was our battle and how justice was denied. Make them hear you, make them hear you.” That song resonates with me on many levels, but I feel like we are Tyler’s collective voice in this concert. He is no longer here, so we are singing for him, so he can be a hero, too. Tyler is our hero. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You need to come to the show to experience the magic of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, but there are a few lines that really strike me. The first time we sang “A Wish” it blew me away. It is a beautiful song about longing for the simplicity of childhood from Tyler’s perspective. When we finished singing through it the first time, I looked up and realized several of the guys in the chorus were weeping. “I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight, I wish I were a child again when everything was simple.” I had the opposite experience as Tyler. When I was a child, I suffered from depression and felt the weight of the world was too much. When I went off to college, I felt liberated and loved unconditionally by an amazing group of friends. I was able to grow into my true authentic self. Tyler never got that opportunity.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Suicide is, for me, the most unimaginable and devastating of human endings. I started having panic attacks my senior year of college when my cousin committed suicide. I was on my way to my aunt’s birthday just a couple of years ago when I heard of Robin William’s suicide. I had to turn around and go back home because I had a panic attack. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know what the answer is to the epidemic of suicide. We cannot know what goes on in the minds and hearts of others, but I think that for those who choose to end it, there is a switch that is flipped, and they cannot get it to turn back on. Whether they have been bullied or just feel trapped in that darkness, none of us know. I do know that it’s an issue that never seems to go away, and we all need to do our part to help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to emphasize that this is NOT going to be a depressing concert. It is a hopeful show celebrating heroes, one of which is Tyler Clementi.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My favorite line in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> says, “Go back for those who trail behind, give a hand to those who fall. Stop to help the one out on the edge, carry those who can’t go on.” So this is our way of helping and celebrating Tyler. We go into the darkness and hold his hand, and we carry him in our voices, and we will share it with the world. If Tyler can’t, we will, so he becomes our hero, and maybe we get the chance to be heroes ourselves, singing the songs that Tyler never got to sing. “There are songs you haven’t heard and music yet to play. I have melodies to sing, and words I long to say. How I want to play my song where arms are open wide in a place where I belong, a world that’s large and kind…”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of my favorite songs of all time is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Godspell’s</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Beautiful City” which we are singing in this concert. For me the song is about making the world better. There is a line about building a beautiful city: “We may not reach the ending, but we can start -- slowly, but truly mending, brick by brick, heart by heart. Now, maybe now, we start learning how.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe we can all help build a more beautiful, heroic, “large and kind” world. I know that is certainly what we, the Turtle Creek Chorale, are trying to do with our Heroes show. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>You can find out more about the Tyler Clementi Foundation and become an "Upstander" at www.tylerclementi.org </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>You can purchase tickets for our upcoming Turtle Creek Chorale concert March 31 and April 1 and 2 at Dallas City Performance Hall at www.turtlecreekchorale.com </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">References</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-eda01432-675e-cda6-81a0-86bb0706cc88" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ahrens, Lynn. “Make Them Hear You,” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ragtime: The Musical. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BMG Entertainment, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 1990.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gasser, Nolan. “I Have Songs You Haven’t Heard,” from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The Tyler Clementi </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 1.38; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Foundation, 2013.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Perry, Katy. “Firework,” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Teenage Dream. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Capitol Records, 2010.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Schwartz, Stephen. “Beautiful City,” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Godspell. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ghostlight Records, 2011.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stewart, Pamela. “A Wish,” from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The Tyler Clementi Foundation, 2013.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stewart, Pamela, and Jake Heggie. “The Narrow Bridge,” from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tyler’s Suite.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The Tyler Clementi</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Foundation. BMI, 2014.</span></div>
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<br />Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-40324250306372263292015-07-16T20:44:00.000-07:002016-06-26T10:42:12.519-07:00The Big Picture<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.7999999999999998; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Big Picture</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’ve opened our eyes, and it’s changing the view. How big, how blue, how beautiful.” -- Florence Welch</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have dreamed of whale watching for most of my adult life. I will never forget the gum commercial from years ago where the woman is enjoying her her chewing experience so much that she misses the whale as it jumps out of the water. While she is savoring her gum, she hears a spectator celebrate, “IT’S BREATHTAKING!” but the whale is gone when she looks out to sea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; line-height: 1.8; white-space: pre-wrap;">It reminds me of the time I was in San Diego with friends, and we were at the beach. A chipmunk distracted me -- so much so that I didn’t hear a British couple proclaim, “Oh my God! It’s a pod of whales!” so I missed the whales gloriously jumping out of the ocean while I marveled at a cute little land rodent. I have traveled to Florida and California and seen the ocean in its splendor, but I have never been on an actual whale watch until I vacationed in Provincetown, Massachusetts, this past June.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; line-height: 1.8; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two of my closest college friends, Jason and Sam, like me, are turning 40 this year, and we have been friends for going on twenty-one years. We decided to go somewhere none of us had been before. </span>Provincetown<span style="font-family: "arial"; line-height: 1.8; white-space: pre-wrap;"> would be a “rite of passage” trip since each of us had wanted to journey there for years.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On our second, life-changing day in Provincetown -- Friday, June 26, 2015, to be exact -- we walk up and down Commercial Street taking in the sights after an amazing breakfast at Cafe Heaven. We are overwhelmed with the beauty of the locale and the momentous news emanating the air and our brains.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We decide to stop at the “Provincetown Whale Watch” ticket booth as I skip in excitement. It is 11:30 AM, and the boat leaving for the whale watch is allegedly departing at noon. Jason opts not to go but walks with Sam and me down the pier to enjoy the view and send us off to sea. We finally find the appropriate spot to meet for our whale watch just before noon but end up waiting almost forty-five minutes because the boat is late.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We finally make it onto the boat and embark into the ocean. The water is choppy, so I take advantage of the free Dramamine. Although a misty rain has fallen throughout the morning, the clouds begin to scatter and dissipate as the day progresses. The farther out we move, the bluer the sky and the water become. The farther we ride away from land, the more relaxed I become. I suddenly realize the weight of reality. I feel liberated as the magnitude of the ocean lessens everything else.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2015 has proven to be a roller coaster so far: I eliminated debt; I earned a promotion at work; I dated a great deal (pigs are flying); I had tonsillectomy, sinus, and deviated septum surgery (even more traumatic than you can imagine); and none of those previously mentioned dates developed into what I’d hoped. I had so much to be grateful for and proud of, but I was exhausted from the trying parts. Even blessings can cause stress to the body and spirit.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As usual, the state of the world causes me the most stress of all. Since childhood, I have been a great worrier. As of late, my human brain finds it impossible to wrap itself around the fact that much of America is consumed with hate and/or fear over the possibility of marriage equality while there are still crazed bigots opening fire on groups of people because of the color of their skin or burning down churches for the same reason. For my entire life, I have found it impossible that so many Christians seem to forget or ignore God’s message, “the greatest of these is LOVE.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">June 26, 2015: As I venture out to sea with one of my oldest and best friends, all of the worry, anxiety, and negative energy in the world and myself seem to fall into the big, beautiful blue. I see a trio of knowing lighthouses to our right in the distance. Soon enough, there is no land in sight, and we are literally enveloped and enlightened by brilliant blue. Just when I begin to consider that we might not see any whales, the boat engine stops, and the aquatic genius on the intercom informs us we are approaching our first whale sighting.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As promised, a trio of whales surfaces shortly, all at once, as if they are rolling in unison with the current of the ocean. Shades of deep midnight blue flow in and out of the water. Our guide informs us these are Humpback Whales. The entire boat full of people of all ages from all over the world exudes giddiness. Sam and I run all over the outline of the boat and back and forth across it to catch sight of these majestic creatures. I quickly give up on trying to capture a perfect picture of these creatures and focus on embracing each snapshot in my mind. My face and hoody glisten from the spray of water glittering all around us. My mouth tastes the salt in the air; my eyes feel the overflow of happy tears as they witness this moment.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We continue to follow the Humpback whales at a safe distance. Before the tour of the big, blue, beautiful comes to a close, we catch a slight glimpse of the elusive Fin Whale, the second largest mammal in the world. I barely snatch sight of it just below the water’s surface as it jets past.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the boat comes back to life and makes the turnaround for land, I gaze again into the vast ocean. I can hear the Florence and the Machine song, “How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful” echoing in my head. I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this experience. I feel closer to God, the world, and humanity all at once. I know that this is what it’s all about. The details, especially the negative ones that try to diminish us, pale in comparison to these moments that define us.</span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ef8305da-9a03-4283-cf5e-06620ec32911"><br /></span>Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-61734895466457523452014-08-18T22:35:00.002-07:002014-08-19T07:20:28.597-07:00Back to School Blues and BlessingsI admit it. I kind of get the blues towards the end of each summer. I don't get much time off (by choice) because I teach workshops for extra money, and that is one of my favorite aspects of my job. I tend to think too much about what I didn't accomplish and how fast the time has flown.<br />
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This year seemed a little tougher. I had a couple of disappointments that I won't go into, but I was really excited about some prospects that didn't turn out like I'd hoped.<br />
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Every day there seemed to me more horrible news, both locally, throughout the nation, and around the world. My worrisome, over-thinking brain does not handle all the disturbing news so well.<br />
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I also go through a "freak out" phase as my birthday nears each year. This year 39 (yes -- THIRTY!NINE!) is staring me in the face like some ridiculous stranger. I still feel like I'm in my twenties, for crying out loud! I have accomplished a great deal in my (almost) 39 years professionally, and developed numerous profound, life-affirming friendships, but there are many areas in my life where I feel like I haven't "arrived" just yet. I haven't met THE ONE and don't know if that's even in the cards (I'm really OK with this). I don't own a condo or a house like I thought I would at this age. I have been ridiculously irresponsible and careless with managing money (I'm working on this and making great strides).<br />
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I think it is safe to say that at the end of this summer 2014, I had the blues. One might even say I was dealing with a bit of depression. I knew it would pass, but I just felt that weight that presses down like a darkening, unmoving cloud.<br />
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Then I heard the news that Robin Williams committed suicide. That news shattered me a bit. It basically gave me a panic attack. I broke into a complete sweat. My shirt was literally soaked and stuck to my body. I was on my way to meet a huge portion of my family for my aunt's birthday dinner party , and I ended up turning around and going home. I just couldn't bear the thought of being around people. I was embarrassed.<br />
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If you've ever known someone personally that has committed suicide (I have known someone), you know it is something you never truly overcome. The message I received about Robin Williams reminded me of that feeling of loss. It also reminded me of being depressed as a kid. I remember what it feels like to be painted into a corner by the darkness that is depression. I mentioned that in last month's blog. I'm sure many of you have felt that weight before, too.<br />
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It just breaks my heart that there are people who are painted into those dark corners permanently and cannot find a way out.<br />
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A friend posted a status on Facebook after Robin Williams' death, and there was a comment on his status that really resonated with me. It just said #stayhere.<br />
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Stay here please. The world needs you.<br />
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We may not always realize it, but we are all pieces in this puzzle of a world, and when you take a piece of that puzzle out prematurely, the world is just stunted. We are all a part of that crazy, beautiful puzzle. We are necessary. We are each loved dearly by something Divine. You are loved and necessary. Please stay here.<br />
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We make a difference in the world. Our words, our actions, and our kindnesses change the topography of Earth's heart. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from Ram Dass: "We are all just walking each other home." That pretty much says it all.<br />
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I am back at work now and getting in the swing of things. Life is grand. I even had the privilege of teaching writing strategies to 75 awesome teachers today! The 35th season of Turtle Creek Chorale is upon us! I get to sing with my turtle brothers. I'm even getting excited about my birthday! Why the heck not?!?!<br />
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Most of my favorite novels share similar themes. They have a strong resilient main character who survives the blows of life to end up thriving and experiencing those little victories and joys that life has to offer. Those moments, possibilities, and PEOPLE make life more than worth surviving the dark corners.<br />
<br />
A couple of days ago, a friend and colleague (thank you Jennifer Hammett!) sent me a song because she knows me and knew I would love it. She nailed it!<br />
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I wasn't going to share this piece of writing because I didn't want it to seem too dark and negative (I promise you there is a FUNNY blog post in the works!). But that song gave it the positive spin it needed. And you know what? Darkness is a part of life. I just hope we can ALL pull together and hold on in spite of the darkness. Please stay here. Let's be a light for one another and a light in the world. It takes a village to keep this messy puzzle together.<br />
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"To be humble, to be kind. It is the giving of the peace in your mind. To a stranger, to a friend, to give in such a way that has no end...Heroes don't look like they used to; they look like you do. … We are loved. We are one. We are how we treat each other when the day is done." -- The Alternate Routes<br />
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Listen here. It's a life-changer :-) <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tXzlVjU1xs">The Alternate Routes -- Nothing More</a><br />
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<br />Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-46052057723121315112014-07-29T13:52:00.001-07:002014-07-30T17:48:53.059-07:00Pride, Prejudice, and Bravery<br />
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It was a church service to celebrate the 4<sup>th</sup> of July. I was reluctant to go, but my mom thought I would enjoy the music. Every now and again it seems fitting to attend church with your mother, so I relented and even looked forward to hearing the pianist. </div>
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The service
went well at first. The patriotic music ceremony included a moving
tribute to veterans. As promised, the pianist played beautifully.<br />
Then it
came time for the pastor to preach his sermon. He walked up to the pulpit and
began. I can’t remember exactly what he said, to be honest, but I certainly
remember how it made me feel. He was complaining about President Obama’s
calling a lesbian couple to congratulate them on their marriage. It wasn’t even what he said that disturbed me
so; it was the tone of utter disgust in his voice. There was also a disdaining, self-righteous rumble from some of
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I sat stunned and mortified.<br />
I used to live in fear that this would happen. As a timid, shy, gay child growing up in a southern baptist church, I shouldered intolerance time and again. And I shouldered it alone. I kept myself locked in the closet, but it was anything but secure. Honestly, I can only remember a few times homosexuality was directly mentioned in sermons or sunday school or youth assemblies, but they occurred. There were plenty of jokes and slurs (not directed at me, but they hit, anyway) throughout my growing up in church, as there were everywhere back then. I can remember, specifically, one summer I was home from college, and I went to a college group sunday school class, and the speaker talked specifically about how everyone, including the church, was becoming TOO tolerant of "the gays."<br />
Regardless, I associated church with shame, guilt, and unworthiness. Sometimes worship services made me literally nauseous. I enjoyed the hymns, but there was something sad and weighted about the praise and worship songs. I remember thinking to myself, "This doesn't apply to me. I'm gay. I'm bad." I was a very sad little boy, and church was a huge source of that sadness. No child should ever have to feel that way. Especially not in church.<br />
I went through several phases of "praying the gay away" and bargaining with God growing up. I always knew I was gay even before I knew what it was. I can't explain it, but I knew. I thought when I became a Christian at eight-years-old, it would go away. It did not. I thought if I "surrendered my life to Christian ministry and service" (at a ridiculously and amusingly young age), it would go away. It did not. I can even remember having suicidal thoughts and how scary that was, even though I never would have acted on those thoughts. I resorted to rededicating my life several times. I remember once at a Disciple Now, I was so filled with shame I convinced myself that I hadn't REALLY become a Christian the first time since I was so obviously still gay as a tinseled Christmas tree. It all seems so preposterous now, but I was so scared and convinced at the time that I was bound for hell; it all seemed only natural.<br />
I would even go out to Lake Brownwood during my first year of college (of course I went to Howard Payne University -- baptist) to pray -- no -- beg God to make me "normal" and straight.<br />
I'm so glad He didn't. It never went away. God, instead, convinced me that She loved me as is. I am a whole human being. I am a compassionate, funny, quirky, musical, literary, gay person, and that is absolutely fantastic. I wonder how my childhood, adolescence, and even adulthood would be different if I had realized that decades ago.<br />
I should emphasize that there are many people in that church who were angels through all the years I went there. My family could not have survived and thrived after my father's death if it wasn't for our church family. I especially remember Joe Browder taking me aside at church camp when I was little. He saw that I was in turmoil. I will never forget his looking me straight in the eye and telling me that Jesus loved me, Rusty Weeks, no matter what. NO. MATTER. WHAT. I believe that now more than ever. I believe that God loves every last one of us equally and wonderfully. Why would there be a God otherwise?<br />
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As soon as
I realized the topic of this pastor's rant, I shut down and stopped listening. This was the same man who had shaken my hand and welcomed me to this church numerous times. This was the man who stood at the altar and proclaimed to the congregation once before that "all are welcomed and loved here!" I looked
over at my mother, who looked like she'd been slapped as she mouthed, “I’m sorry. I
didn’t know. You should go.” How could she have known? I know she wanted to get up and leave with me. </div>
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I shrugged
my shoulders and looked over at my 8 and 11-year-old nieces who were also there with us. “I have to leave; I’ll see you at
lunch.” They just looked up at me blankly -- confused. Looking back on it, I wish
I had asked them if they wanted to leave with me, but it all happened so
fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I have felt blatantly marginalized for being gay, since I came out, a total of three times. The first time I was tutoring a group of students that weren't actually in my class. I went over to redirect a seventh grade girl who wasn't working. As I walked away from her desk, I heard her whisper, "gay motherfucker," under her breath. The second time I was at the House of Blues to hear Joshua Radin perform. There were some drunk girls behind my group, and we couldn't hear Josh over their inebriated rambling. I turned around and asked them to be quiet. A guy next to them said, "You fucking faggot." My friend Latoya heard him say it, too. As harmful as these instances were, they paled in comparison to the indignity I suffered that day last summer in church. </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I was PISSED.</span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The angry part of me wasn't angry for myself. I was angry for all of the little kids sitting in that church who were gay. I was angry for the ones who were questioning, too. I was angry that any child in that service was hearing it. And I was angry at the people in the congregation who were encouraging the hurt that spewed from the pulpit with their rumbling grunts. How could this be happening in 2013?! In a holiday service? I do not need anyone to feel sorry for me, but I am asking you to feel for those kids. </span><br />
The church
had stadium-like seating, and we were seated to the right side of the
auditorium and just a few rows back. In order to make my most graceful exit of
the auditorium (“sanctuary” doesn’t seem appropriate for me, here), I walked down the
steps towards the pulpit and made my way around the corner. So when I rounded
the corner, I was facing the entire congregation seated on the ground floor.
This was a long, lonely, awkward, but empowering walk. I have no idea how a human being can feel completely annihilated and liberated at the same time, but I did. I walked proudly with my head held high out of that giant red room. I tried to look people in the eye as I was marching out, but no one seemed to return my gaze. I did not look back.<br />
I do not plan on going back unless I go to pay respects to someone who passes, like Joe Browder. That church is filled with Christ-like, wonderful people. I'm convinced of that. But how could I go back into that building with a shred of dignity and self-respect? I probably should have gone back one last time and given that pastor a piece of my mind or just sat down calmly and talked to him about my concerns regarding his sermon. I have no idea if he has a clue that his words hurt anyone.<br />
It's time to let this one go. Gay people aren't going anywhere. And some of us are getting married. Let go of the "Love the sinner, hate the gay sin" BS, too. I'm not even going to justify that with words and the justification of my disgust over it. I'm also fed up with people's assertions that their right to vote against a gay person's right to marry is religious freedom. That's my freedom you're trying to take away.<br />
So much going through my head as I kept walking out of that church and through the enormous, hot parking lot to my car. When I sat in my car, I put in a mix cd and played "All I Ever Have to Be" by Amy Grant (Written by Gary Chapman -- See YouTube link below), and the words meant more to me than ever. I wish I could have hugged every kid in that service and played them that song. It pretty much got me through childhood and adolescence.<br />
I also posted something on Facebook that still resonates with me and hopefully many of you, as well. "<b>I'm glad my faith is stronger than the words and walls of man."</b> Then I drove to the Chili's parking lot in Casa Linda and waited on my family and friends for lunch. When we were finally seated, my oldest niece sat down next to me and reached over and squeezed my hand.<br />
I have made it my life's mission to do my best to pour light on others and the world instead of casting shadows. My being gay has only given me even more lenses to see the world through and enabled me to shed and share more light. Peace to all.<br />
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"I've learned that people will forget what you said, they will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel." -- Maya Angelou<br />
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohkdMXx_JlQ<br />
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When the weight of all my dreams<br />
Is resting heavy on my head<br />
And the thoughtful words of help and hope<br />
Have all been nicely said<br />
But I'm still hurting wondering if I'll ever be the one<br />
I think I am -- I think I am<br />
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Then You gently re-remind me<br />
That You've made me from the first<br />
And the more I try to be the best<br />
The more I get the worst<br />
And I realized the good in me is only there because of who You are<br />
Who You are…<br />
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And all I ever have to be is what You've made me<br />
Any more or less would be a step out of your plan<br />
As you daily re-create me help me always keep in mind<br />
That I only have to do what I can find<br />
And all I ever have to be<br />
All I have to be<br />
All I ever have to be is what You've made me.<br />
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<i>Amy Grant Gary Chapman Copyright New Spring Publishing</i><br />
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<!--EndFragment-->Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-92215969730433651392014-05-28T21:01:00.002-07:002014-07-09T08:03:53.699-07:00Blessed Are the Peacemakers<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">When I was in high school , I read I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD sings. It was so raw and disturbing, yet hopeful. I still remember the way it made me feel. So much power in that. </span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I didn't realize when I sent this short paragraph in an e-mail to a dear friend today that it was so indicative of Dr. Maya Angelou herself. Her quote:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">She did that. I had the option to choose an autobiography in a high school english class, and I chose Dr. Maya Angelou's </span><i style="font-size: 15px;">I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS</i><span style="font-size: 15px;">. I must admit, I don't remember numerous details about the book. I do remember it was very raw and HONEST and disturbing, yet HOPEFUL. And it made me FEEL.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Maya Angelou survived a LOT. She survived abuse and many other horrors. She was mute for a time. BUT she lived and survived and wrote and spoke and thrived. These are things I remember about the book. It made me feel like I could survive whatever life brought my way, too. Not only could I survive, I could thrive. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." -- Maya Angelou </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I've been a fan of Dr. Angelou's since I read that book. I've admired and read her poetry throughout the years. I've been moved when she read things aloud…just the sound of her voice…so calming, smooth and slow. I've been amazed that she was revered by three very different American Presidents, G.W. Bush, Clinton, and Obama. She has been greatly celebrated by each of them and so many others. I, too, celebrate her. I've even been the guy who follows her on Facebook and shares her posts.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." -- Maya Angelou</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I celebrate her ability and her courage to tell her truth and to celebrate all our truths. She inspires me and encourages me to tell my story.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Something else I admire most about her life and legacy is that she didn't preach AT anyone. She talked to us and taught us with her words and her spirit. She was a spiritual, Christian person, but she didn't say, "I'm a spiritual, Christian person!" She just lived and loved and wrote and spoke her truth and shared what she believed could help others. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I share the next part because it is part of my truth. A Facebook friend posted an amazing clip on Facebook today from Oprah's Super Soul Sunday show. In it, Maya Angelou was talking about how God loves her, and she was overcome with emotion. Oprah asked Dr. Angelou where she goes for comfort and solace. Dr. Angelou literally buckled forward in tears. Here is an excerpt from her response (google "Maya Angelou Oprah God Loves Me"…you need to hear her say it):</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"God loves me! It still humbles me that this force which made leaves and fleas and stars and rivers and YOU…loves ME…Maya Angelou. It's AMAZING! I can do anything. And do it well! Any GOOD thing, I can do it. That's why I am who I am. YES! Because God loves me, and I'm amazed at it and grateful for it!"</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Today, when I read the news of Maya Angelou's death, I was overcome with emotion. I decided to walk to the front of the school where my office is housed and check the mail. As I walked, I felt peace. I felt riveting, comforting chill bumps on my arms. I felt like I was witnessing the birth of an angel. And I was reminded of a phenomenal poem, and a particular passage sticks with me:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"A free bird leaps</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">on the back of the wind</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">and floats downstream</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">til the current ends</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">and dips his wing</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">in the orange sun rays</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">and dares to claim the sky…" -- Maya Angelou</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">There she goes...</span></span>Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-34263195070054461842014-02-11T20:10:00.000-08:002014-02-15T09:30:58.879-08:00Snow<div style="text-align: center;">
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I have loved snow for as long as I can remember. Maybe love isn't the right word. I have revered it with a sacred obsession. I'm not sure why. I know there are parts of the world that encounter it daily as routine. I realize there are places that are devastated by it (especially this winter, and yes, I'm tired of the cold, dreary weather presently…how do people do this every winter?)<br />
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But for me and my experience, snow has always been a divine gift. I've revisited this topic far too many times, I'm sure.<br />
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As a little boy growing up in Mesquite, Texas, I can remember my mom waking me and leading me to the sliding glass door to see our back yard blanketed in white wonder. I could count on one hand these moments. Snow made the world look different…softer and much more peaceful. As a little boy who worried too much about everything, peacefulness was always welcomed.</div>
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Each snow (or in some cases ice) connects concretely to profound memories over the years: I can remember building snowmen with my family and sliding on these plastic, circular "sleds" and being overwhelmed by all of the white. I remember making my sister take pictures of me in the snow as a teenager. I remember that feeling of realizing school was cancelled. As I grew older I remember having stolen days with roommates and friends and savoring each moment. Walking down the street or to the park was a magical adventure. I remember braving a drive to see RENT at the movies with a group of friends. The "snow" made it all the better, of course.</div>
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Last Thursday, as I drove to work, tiny crystal flurries began to fall onto my windshield. I grinned and recalled hubbubs about the flurries we might receive and didn't think much of it. The farther I drove, the bigger and bolder the snow became. I was absolutely struck by the way it moved across the pavement on the highway. I'd never seen it do that before. It looked like some potion was spilling out of the sky and gracefully dancing for us. </div>
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When I got out of the car at work, the world had been transformed. Not visually, but the sound and feel of everything was different. It has always fascinated me that the "sound" of snowfall makes the rest of the world fall more silent. I could already feel the difference in the ground and anticipated the "thwa, thwa" sound of my shoes crunching the snow on the way to my car later. </div>
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Throughout work/school that day, I found myself lingering by doors and windows repeatedly. I'm worse than the kids. At one point, I snuck into a friend's empty classroom at lunch and just stared out the window and watched it fall for a few minutes.</div>
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For the past year, I've been thinking about, reading about, and writing about a topic for my ABYDOS Literacy Writing Trainer Recertification. I started the project after a series of heartbreaking, devastating, and disturbing events took place in our nation and world. School and movie shootings, explosions, and bombings to name a few. The purpose of my topic is my belief that writing helps us cope and grow more brave in a very scary world. </div>
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I can be a bit of a romantic cheese ball, but I'm also a realist. I am very aware of the horrors we face in life, and I've experienced some personally. BUT I don't believe those dark demons have to destroy us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2WWIqwWnOyqbtGdbFac5WF8cYTy8_PfwSjirr4ojYKHPuqG7vpkrdzPy5ZeFbmbj32Q-cQIkScGfTEsUh7Nj5XdugBdsAk-E_QIlm3wmyuL2oNOAYOAOt25ploCiOhodEwQ76jiA4w42/s1600/image-11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2WWIqwWnOyqbtGdbFac5WF8cYTy8_PfwSjirr4ojYKHPuqG7vpkrdzPy5ZeFbmbj32Q-cQIkScGfTEsUh7Nj5XdugBdsAk-E_QIlm3wmyuL2oNOAYOAOt25ploCiOhodEwQ76jiA4w42/s1600/image-11.jpeg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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I've talked about this with some of my closest friends, but my favorite books and movies aren't action packed or fast-paced. Most of them have very similar themes. Life is hard, and we have to work daily to make our way in it, but there are these brilliant, profound, joy-filled moments that fall like a dusting of snow in our lives every now and then, and they can outweigh those dark times. They make it all worthwhile.</div>
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I was watching Downton Abbey recently (some of you smile; some of you roll your eyes… I know). Three of the central characters who had experienced raw, unimaginable grief were sitting in a room together talking. It was just a simple conversation where they each recalled a moment filled with vivid love and joy in their lives. Even though those moments had passed, they stayed with each of them. They still brought them joy and made it all worth it in the midst of great sorrow. </div>
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I hope you find peace and joy. I hope there's something, for you, that makes the world softer and more than just bearable. I guess snow symbolizes that for me. And while I am BEYOND ready for some sunshine and warmer weather after this extraordinarily cold winter we've had in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex, I'm sure I'll be waiting impatiently next winter if I haven't seen any snowfall by February.</div>
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Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-35654093435629651012014-01-05T18:30:00.003-08:002014-07-15T11:24:15.426-07:00January 5…30 Years Later<i>Disclaimer: ironically, this is a blog about resilience, faith, hope, and beauty in the world.</i><br />
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30 years ago today, my dad died of cancer. I cannot put into words how dizzyingly mind-boggling this fact is to my mom, my sister, and me. It's not fair that we've lived much more of our lives without him than we had with him (my sister gets credit for that thought). And the last two years we had with him he was battling the cancer.<br />
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I was eight years old when he died. I can still remember the physical discomfort of it… the feeling of weights pulling on my stomach and heart. That feeling stayed with me for years afterwards. I was pretty introverted as a child (even when I pretended not to be). I always felt different than other kids; I <i><b>was</b></i> different than most kids, and I was trying to come to terms with that throughout childhood and adolescence. My father's death was just another issue added to my already tumultuous growing pains. Some days were unbearably, nauseatingly dark.<br />
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I could have wallowed in those dark places. I could have let my situation be an excuse to give up and quit trying (and those thoughts crossed my mind many times).<br />
<br />
But I didn't.<br />
<br />
I kept trying. I kept getting up every day along with the sun (hehehe…later than the sun, but I got up) and giving it a go. Eventually, it got easier. It got better. Life was more than worth it. I decided to quit dwelling on the fact that my dad was gone. Of course it was unfair and horrible and unimaginable. But it WAS. God and/or the universe "allowed" my dad to die very young or however you want to label it or look at it. I'll be the first to admit that I spent too much time dwelling on it, but I quit. There were plenty of blessings in my world to keep dwelling on. My mom had the strength, humor, and will of two parents. She never ceased to amaze me. My sister was as "big sister" as they come, but she was also my rock and my common sense compass (and still is). I have an extended family support system and friends that grow and astound me to this day.<br />
<br />
Most importantly, I realized I had a lot to offer this world. I could sing and write. I could be kind and generous to a fault. I was FUNNY. I'm not a big talker, but when I say something, it's usually worth hearing.<br />
<br />
I've been reminded of all of this over the past several days. A former coworker of mine lost her husband to cancer. They have two young daughters. My heart breaks for them. A friend of mine from college lost her father just this week unexpectedly, and I cannot imagine how that feels to have your world snatched from under you in an instant.<br />
<br />
This world can be a devastatingly dark place. Life can knock you down and kick you repeatedly. In my lifetime, we have seen atrocities in our nation and beyond: tsunamis, bombings, shootings, and so on. We can chose to live in the shadow of those dark places, or we can live in the light. Light shines all around us. Even better, we can create the light and be the light. That remains my life's goal, and I plan to keep it that way until my last breath.<br />
<br />
I still have sad moments, and I'm glad I do. That means I haven't forgotten my father, and he still matters to me. What I wouldn't give to have a cup of coffee with his 69-year old self. What I wouldn't give to know what he thinks of me and my life and my strengths and flaws. This year at my Turtle Creek Chorale Christmas concerts, we sold poinsettia ornaments to honor our memorialize loved ones. I bought one for my dad (his name was Roger Dale Weeks by the way). I wish he could have seen one of our shows. I'm sure he sees them in his own way, but that's another blog post.<br />
<br />
<br />
The point I'm trying to make with all of my rambling is that it DOES get better. It gets much easier, and the joy of living returns. At least it has for me. 30 years later, and I'm a happy, thriving 38-year old man. Light is all around.<br />
<br />
Sometimes you just have to crawl out of the shadows and find beauty in this world. Or create it yourself.<br />
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<br />Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-17631174667861026232013-07-29T07:36:00.002-07:002013-08-30T07:55:47.917-07:00The Possibility of Hope<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The Possibility of
Hope<o:p></o:p></div>
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“These are the words I want on my gravestone: that I was a
helper, and that I danced.” – Anne Lamott<o:p></o:p></div>
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In January, my roommate, Teresa, and I went to see THE
IMPOSSIBLE, a movie about a family’s survival of the Tsunami in Indonesia. We
had seen the preview several months earlier. I remembered it vividly because
the strapping man sitting next to me was moved to tears just by the preview. He
was audibly crying, and it prompted him to reach for his wife’s hand. It was one of those “pull-out-all-the stops”
trailers that sucked you in and made you want to see the movie instantly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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While we knew it would be a difficult movie to watch, the
preview assured us it would ultimately be inspiring and uplifting. We headed to the Angelika at Mockingbird
Station on a crisp January afternoon. We had been waiting for this movie for
MONTHS, so We. Were. Excited!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As the credits opened, we sat in a crowded theatre and took
in the beautiful scene. Ewan McGreggor,
Naomi Watts, and their precious movie children lit up the screen as they headed
to an Indonesian resort for a family vacation. It didn’t take long for the
chaos to ensue. One moment the family was at the resort pool having the time of
their life, and in an instant, the Tsunami hit. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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From the offset of the demonic storm, it was obvious that
the director of the film wanted the audience to FEEL like they were in the eye
of the Tsunami. He succeeded. You felt every blow from the mother’s
perspective. We were thrust under the crashing, swirling, violent water with
the mother (Naomi Watt’s character). We were tossed around with her and
bludgeoned by the debris as it tore around her.
There were many moments where Teresa and I both had our hands splayed
over our eyes, peaking through fingers to soften the blows. This went on for
about an hour, both during the storm, and during the exhausting aftermath.
There was a moment when Teresa and I looked at each other and said, “What
have we gotten ourselves into?” with our eyes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Fast forward several scenes. The mother and oldest son are
separated from the father and the youngest two children. The mother can barely
walk, and yes, it shows a gaping, bloody wound on her leg as seen through her
son’s eyes. Place hands over eyes... <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Fast forward again. The mother and son are found by a native
Indonesian and taken to a small village. I was touched and awed by how several
women in that village circled around her to wash her and take care of her. They
were practically fighting to help her. It was an amazing scene. They eventually
transport her to a makeshift “hospital” so she can receive the care she needs.
It was a horrific scene. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I was suddenly pulled out of the movie by reality when I
began to hear a commotion on the row directly in front of me. A man was yelling
at his wife to his left and shaking her gently. As I looked directly in front
of me, I saw the woman’s head turned awkwardly upward towards the ceiling. Her
eyes and mouth were wide open, but she appeared to be unconscious. It was
horrifying. Her husband was yelling, “Honey!
HONEY! Wake up! Wake up! Is there a doctor?! Someone get a doctor!!!! PLEASE!”
Imagine any cliché from movies or television, and it took place over the next
few moments. The lights came up in the theater. The movie stopped, and the
screen went white. All eyes were on the couple right in front of me. The man got
on his knees and looked up at the woman sitting to my right and pleaded, “She’s
my wife!” with tears in his eyes and anguish in his voice. It’s like we were
all witnessing the worst moment in his life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were now people approaching the couple and offering
assistance, and a nurse who happened to be in the theatre stepped in. The woman
having the seizure (or whatever it was) came to and began to make a low howling
sound. They laid her out, and the nurse put the woman’s head in her lap and
tried to soothe her. I cannot even count how many people were calling 911.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“What’s the address? What’s the address?” a woman shouted
repeatedly. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Someone else proclaimed, “It’s Mockingbird Station! I think
they can find it!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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At this point, I realized I was standing and alternating on
each foot, as if awkwardly dancing. I
wanted to do something to help, but I felt trapped. My roommate looked up at me
and calmly said, “Russ…just sit down.” As I sat down, I realized I had
apparently, involuntarily unbuttoned my shirt entirely while I was standing
distressed. Thank God for cold weather and layers. Teresa and I giggled at that
point out of necessity. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The manager of the theatre came in with bottled water for
the victim and her husband. Both denied it. A doctor, I assume from the lobby
or another theatre came in and talked to the husband and the victim. Everyone in
the theatre had a unified look of grave concern on their faces. I looked at the
woman to my right, and we had a moment. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“This is insane,” I said. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“I know,” she replied, “the movie was stressful enough.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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After what seemed like forever (actually about 15-20 minutes,
I think), the paramedics arrived and gingerly placed the woman on a stretcher.
A woman down the row began to ask, almost chanting, “Did someone get her purse?
Did they get her jacket? Huh? Did someone get her purse and jacket?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Someone finally responded, “Yes! See! Her husband has her
things.”<br />
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We all began to try to get settled. Some movie goers went out to the bar for
drinks. The manager came back into the theater and announced, “OK. If it’s
alright with everyone, we will now play the rest of the movie.” You heard a
collective sigh as if we were all saying, “Here we go…we’d better brace
ourselves.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then someone yelled out, “Could you rewind it about five
minutes?!” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m pretty sure I whispered a four-letter word in reply, but
the manager agreed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We continued to watch the movie. There were many more rough
scenes, but there were some profoundly touching ones, as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The scene that stood out to me the most was when the mother
was lying on the cot in the makeshift hospital, and she looked over at her son.
“You should go help people,” she said to him lovingly, “You’re so good at it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And he did. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we left the Angelika that day, we were absolutely spent
by the traumatic experience. I prayed for days that the woman in the audience
was OK. The movie and the surrounding situation reminded me of life’s
fragility, and how powerless we can be, but it also reminded me that as long as
humanity maintains its drive to help each other in the face of adversity, this
world still has some hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-89046761718863689672013-07-25T07:25:00.000-07:002013-07-25T07:26:01.314-07:00My First Marathon<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 13.0pt;">My First Marathon<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I lost my chip. I’ve been training for over six months
for this moment, and I won’t have official documentation of my run. I have no
idea when it happened, but my chip fell off somewhere between my apartment and
the starting line at the American Airlines Center. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I see my coach and run over to her like a lost first
grader. “Jen, my chip fell off! What can I do!?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In her usual gruff but positive way, she responds,
“Nothin’. No time now, and they couldn’t program a new chip for you anyway.
Remember, you’re doing this for you! You are gonna be awesome. You’re ready!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Half smiling, I fall into my favorite stretch. I bend at
the waist and let my arms dangle to the ground like pendulums. OK. This is it.
There’s nothing I can do about it now. Walking toward the starting line, my
heart races with anticipation. I cannot believe I’m about to run 26.2 miles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;">In
elementary school, I couldn’t even do a chin-up on the physical fitness test. I
couldn’t run a lap without my side hurting. I wore husky jeans! And now, at 32,
I’m taking my fitness to the highest level.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The signal blows, and we’re off. A chilly dampness fills
the air as rainclouds loom, and I feel validated for wearing my water-proof
toboggan and windbreaker. I’m relieved as the crowd scatters, and I have room
to breathe and run more freely. For the first several miles, I try to occupy my
thoughts with anything other than the regret of losing my chip. We run across
Dallas, through uptown from the AAC and then cross 75 into the M Streets and
Lakewood neighborhoods. It drizzles on and off, but I’m no longer cold. My body
temperature has adjusted. Each time I pass a photo stop, I lift my windbreaker,
so the photographers can see my bib number. If my mileage cannot be documented,
I will have as many pictures as possible…proof that I ran a marathon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I approach White Rock Lake, I have a disturbing
realization. Without a chip, my friends and family cannot check my progress and
know where I am. For all they know, I passed out where my chip fell off and
never made it past the starting line. I start to get panicky, so I slow to a
halt at a water stop to call. I ask a random but friendly-looking woman if I
can borrow her cell phone. She immediately hands the phone over, and I call my
friend Teresa, whose phone is like her sixth sense, so I know she’ll answer.
“My chip fell off somewhere! I’m running around the lake. I’m about halfway, so
it should be a couple of more hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t even wait for a reply as I hand the lady her
phone with a grateful sigh. Turning around, I notice a long table full of beer
shots. They offer beer shots on marathons because beer is loaded with carbs. I
shrug my shoulders and down the Dixie cup full of beer as I return to my run on
the trail. Who am I kidding? I take a second shot before returning to my run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I continue rounding the lake, I remember my coach’s
words. “You’re doing this for you…” but that’s not entirely true. I was doing
this for myself, but a part of me was doing it for my father. When he was
alive, I was never athletic. My sister was the athletic one, and I was the
artistic, musical child. This is another one of those milestones where I want
my dad here, like graduation or awards or my promotion. It’s still so difficult
not to have a relationship with him, even as an adult. I wish I could see him
cheering me on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I continue to feel sorry for myself, I see a towering,
middle-aged man holding a fluorescent pink poster board with the words, “Have
you seen my daughter? She’s one in a million!” in huge capital letters. Tears
immediately sprout from my eyes and mingle with my rain-soaked face. Thank GOD
for the rain. After reading those precious words, I am filled with a menagerie
of emotions and memories. I am reminded that I take my father with me wherever
I go. He is with me, beamingly proud of his son the way that man is of his
daughter. As I round the lake, I am smiling and misting and inspired as I begin
the last leg of the race.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The last mile is the most difficult. When I begin to see
the AAC in the distance, I feel hopeful but drag at the same time. It can’t be
more than a mile away, but my legs feel like overcooked spaghetti that will
soon detach from my body. Flailing along, I keep telling myself to hold on. A
woman probably 20 years older than me appears on my right with a smile. “Almost
there… You can do it! Lookin’ good!” I want to hug her and push her down at the
same time, but I give her a pseudo-smile and say, “thanks,” lumbering on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Almost there, I remind myself. I hear the crowd cheering.
When I get to the big finish, some energetic miracle pushes me to sprint the
last few yards. As I near the finish line, I see friends and family cheering to
my right side. My mom and Teresa are jumping up and down, and my sister is
taking pictures. They are probably freezing but not showing any signs of
discomfort. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cross the finish line, and someone wraps me in an
aluminum-looking tarp and leads me to pictures. A volunteer places a medal over
my head. I stand in front of the camera, dizzy with pride and exhaustion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I walk back towards my family and friends. I see them in
the distance, smiling and proud themselves. In my mind’s eye, I see my dad with
a fluorescent orange poster that reads, “Have you seen my son? He’s one in a
million.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 13.0pt;">Russ Weeks<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-76203391048821764862013-07-17T13:55:00.001-07:002013-07-17T13:56:08.362-07:00Keep Singing<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Keep Singing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></o:p><o:p><span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">As a child I worried about everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried about my self and feeling different, isolated, and alone. I worried about my family’s well-being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried about school. I worried about questions I had about God and church and the world and everyone’s place in it. I worried about endangered animals. I worried about anything and everything in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could invent things to worry about. Thankfully, the older I get, the less I worry (some friends and family would beg to differ, but I swear…I’m better than I was!), and the less I fear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">When a national tragedy occurs, however, life thrusts me back into my childhood, and I feel completely helpless and worry-stricken. When the Boston Marathon terrorist explosion occurred, something in me collapsed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I drove around on work errands on that mid-April day, I began to hear the news reports on the radio. I remember thinking to myself, “Are you kidding me?! What now?!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">As someone who has run one marathon (yes, only one, and I’m PROUD of it), two half-marathons, and numerous 5Ks, I kind of<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> get</i> the joy of running. I know the exhilarating rush and joy that comes with it. That joy I feel pales in comparison to passionate runners who do so every day and run numerous marathons a year. Running permeates their lives. They get up in the morning to run. They eat, sleep, work, and breathe running. I know some of these people, and I might, at times, think they’re a bit nuts, but they inspire me deeply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have heard people in running groups discuss aspirations and dreams of running the New York or Boston Marathon. It is a major milestone for the passionate runner. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know this is why my heart broke so emphatically for those affected by the bombing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. While the runners were pushing themselves toward the end of a milestone, some of them came to the end of their lives. Some of them were maimed in such a way that their running lives would never be the same. I could not stop worrying for these passionate runners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">There is a song by Patty Griffin (I promise not to quote her in every blog) that she wrote for her father when he passed away. Her poignant lyrics remind me of an afterlife that I hope for anyone who is taken from this world unnecessarily too soon, especially those who die in pursuit of a passion or a great love. It’s entitled, “Go Wherever You Wanna Go.” We all have the human right to follow our passions and to go where we want to go in life in order to thrive and be the human beings we are destined to be. To me, it seems evil is magnified in a tragedy like Boston’s. Not only did the killers terrorize a group of people, they terrorized a group of people who were pursuing their life’s passion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">On Tuesday, April 16, right after the bombing, I was driving to rehearsal for Turtle Creek Chorale. As I drove, still worrying and thinking about Boston, something clicked. One of my life’s greatest passions is music and singing. What if I could no longer sing? What if I could no longer go to TCC on Tuesday evenings and sing with my Turtle Brothers? And worse, what if someone intentionally took that passion from me…that life force that made my place in this world so valid in my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I parked and walked up to Sammons Center for the Arts for rehearsal, I made a promise to myself that I would embrace every moment of this rehearsal. I owed it to myself and to the victims in Boston.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">We had a productive rehearsal that night. Our “Kander and Ebb” concert run was two days away, so we ran through song after song with vigor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">As the end of rehearsal neared, our artistic director, Trey Jacobs, began to speak of the bombing and how we could honor the victims. He proceeded to lead us in a song we sang at our fall concert, a recurring song in our repertoire entitled, “The Awakening,” by Joseph M. Martin. The song recounts a dream (or perhaps a nightmare) of a world devoid of music. The dreamer imagines a place where “no bird sang” and “no choir sang to change the world.” At the end of the song, the dreamer awakens and declares:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">“Let music never die in me! Forever let my spirit sing! Wherever emptiness is found, let there be joy and glorious sound. Let music never die in me! Forever let my spirit sing! Let all our voices join as one to praise the Giver of the song. Awake! Awake! Let music live! Let Music live!” (Martin).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">We live in a scary world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every week it seems we are bombarded with more bad news. We can all take a lesson from marathon runners. They are an ultimate symbol of passion, perseverance, and accomplishment. We should not let evil or fear keep us from pursuing and enjoying whatever it is that we are passionate about in this life. We owe it to ourselves and to those who have gone before us to thrive in this life in any way we possibly can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria;">“You can get up on some sunny day and run. Run a hundred miles just for fun now. Heartaches and yesterdays don’t weigh a ton now. You can get up on some sunny day and run. “ – Patty Griffin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197571032262167661.post-22963349488676927322012-07-22T13:36:00.000-07:002015-11-20T07:25:06.390-08:00Little Fires<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“And I’d give up these things I know are meaningless, for a little fire beside me when I sleep.” – Patty Griffin</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I went on vacation with over 100 men this summer. I traveled to Denver, Colorado with my brothers in the Turtle Creek Chorale for the GALA Chorus Festival. It was an indescribable week filled with music, laughter, tears, and brotherhood. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our performance was on a Wednesday, and it was a transformative experience, to say the least. We were ready to celebrate that night in Denver. We made an appearance at the Red Party at the Grand Hyatt, but it was so packed we could barely hear each other speak or ourselves think, so we decided to walk several blocks to the Wrangler Bar. We were all suspended on some sort of mile high Cloud 9. Drinks were toasted. Hugs were shared. Laughter was fluent. Some of our eyes got misty a time or two. It was just such a fantastic week, and we had shared so much. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I’m done, I’m done. And at 1:30 a.m., I was ready to disembark for the hotel. I said my good-byes and went outside to find a cab. There was actually a pedicab waiting as soon as I walked outside. I've rarely seen them in Dallas, but they are all over Austin, and they were plentiful in Denver. I had secretly wanted to ride in one all week. The attractive driver with the magical blond curls looked at me and assured me that he would get me to my destination quickly and inexpensively. I kind of shrugged my shoulders in a “why not?” kind of way and climbed into the pedi-cab. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before he started pedaling, he turned around and looked at me like we had been hanging out all night and asked, “Who’s your favorite singer?” </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I saw him fiddling with his I-Phone, so I knew where this was going. Bruce Springsteen and Patty Griffin, of course, popped into my head. “This is a Patty Griffin kind of night.” I replied. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Who?” he asked.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Patty Griffin!” I assured him.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Got it.” He nodded as he placed the device in a cradle with little speakers. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then we were off. I can’t really put what happened next into words, but I’ll give it a shot. I’m certain I gasped a little bit from the first guitar strum on “Little Fire” by Patty Griffin. As soon as she started singing, and he started pedaling, and the breeze started lifting around me, I was altered. Everything else was silent. Beauty echoed to the sky and back. If anyone else was on the street, I was oblivious. It was like, for a few moments, I was the only person in the world. The previous week kind of flashed before my eyes, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude. All the gravity that weighs on living was suddenly nonexistent. Other than this song, this Colorado air, this breath, nothing else really mattered at the moment. And then, Emmylou Harris started harmonizing with Patty on the second verse of the song, and it’s like God was whispering behind me. This is it -- what life is. This moment. Remember this. I felt like I was watching this unexpectedly blissful movie, and I wanted to look someone in the eye and give them that knowing, wide-eyed look that sings profundity. But no one was next to me, so I cut my eyes up at the stars and thought, “Can you believe this?” </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As the song drew to a close, so did the ride. It’s like they were in complete sync. I climbed out of the cab and looked at the driver. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Six bucks,” he proclaimed. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I paid him double. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thank you so much,” I replied as I placed the bills in his hand. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thanks for Patty Griffin,” he said. “I’d never heard of her.Wow…”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I half-smiled and nodded. Patty Griffin is reason enough for gratitude. “You’re very welcome. She’ll change your life.”</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Music has changed my life on so many levels. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It didn’t matter what awaited as I turned around to go along my way...</span></div>
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Russhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09739143059527637487noreply@blogger.com12