A quick thought about Africa...

So, over the last little while I've had it in my head that I'd like to help develop sustainable financial systems in Africa. That sounds like a big task, and I think it probably is, but my perspective on such an idea was adjusted a few weeks ago. The link below is a great video supporting an organization called Water Harvest International. My church played this video a few weeks ago, and through it I realized (or was reminded) that as wonderful an idea as is self-sustaining finances, the best system imaginable is useless if people's basic needs aren't first being met.

Maybe my realization for the moment is how much I take for granted things like clean water or availability of medicine, nutrition, and shelter. I have a hunch that, as such services improve in Africa, the 'big idea' items like economic structure, may also grow in step. In the meantime, I'll continue looking into what God wants of me, and supporting people like this along the way.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=7165339&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1

Great Quote...

"These moments of inspiration, for want of a better word, are moments of transparency, really. The thing that gets in the way - in our lives, not let alone in creativity, most of the time - is our brain, which steps in as a sort of editor of what we're seeing and receiving from our senses, and adds sort of consciousness to it, and we become aware, and it obstructs our progress in certain, sort of spiritual ways. So, there is a spiritual element to making music. When inspiration comes, you somehow have disengaged your consciousness just a touch. The flow of images comes, and it comes so quickly and so freshly that you know it's just a transparency, really. You've managed to remove the barrier, and you're just reaching straight in to the good stuff. And then, all you're using your brain to do is, as the process plays itself out, you arrange, like a collage type way; 'Oh, that image would be better there, or maybe I could use that in the chorus'. 

So, I've been through the process enough to know that when these things come out fully formed, you're less involved in a sense. So, it's only afterwards that people make up how wonderful they are, and their ego tells them how great it is that they've written these things. Really, the act of writing good music is to be able to get rid of all that; to get away from ego and just touch the purity of things, and see them for what they are. It's a fantastic feeling....so yes, you get ludicrously excited, and sort of, I don't know, I probably bite my fingernails down to nothing, scratch myself -- it's like an act of madness, actually. Really, I think if I filmed myself during the process, you are sort of possessed, so its giving in to the sort of possession."

- David Gray

Starbucks Writing Hell

This morning, I arrive at Starbucks to write, and Joey the Scruff Dog is sitting in my writing chair. I can't tell you how disappointing this is. He's reading the newspaper, so I figure, hey, I'll wait him out. I've been here almost a whole hour, and nothing. On and on he turns the pages. I think he's reading through the whole thing a second time. I hate him. 

Ok, so I don't hate him. I just disapprove of the direction his life has taken over the last 63 minutes. I should say something. Make a stand. Maybe I should snatch his precious newspaper and run. I can't do that. Newspapers are an endangered species, and my fellow writers are scraping for their very textual existence. By that logic, such actions would put me even with, say, baby whale killers. No one likes baby whale killers, so I should just stay in my seat, let the man read his precious newspaper. 

WHY??? Why can't I just walk up to homeboy and reason, you know, like grown men. "Excuse me, sir, but I have a Mac, and I need to write, and this chair… you see what I'm saying?" Somewhere in there, I feel sound reasoning must exist. I feel like Elaine in the classic airplane episode of Seinfeld, telepathically screaming at the claustrophobia-inducing fellow passenger. I just want him to stop inconveniencing my life. Is that so bad? Maybe I can convince him that his seat selection is crap, and he'll find a greater plateau of happiness elsewhere, like China, perhaps, or maybe the Isle of Man. Maybe on a ship somewhere, out to sea. You know, the whole tranquility thing, where people can't disturb your newspaper reading. I swear, man, if he doesn't get up I'm going to imaginarily put his ship in the Gulf of Aden. Maybe his Somali pirate captors will give him a cell with a window and bring him a crisp copy of the Walaalaha Street Journal. Hot off the press. 

Grad School...

Just a quick note to get the blogging habit reformed...

I just wanted to say how happy and settled I feel in my decision to return to school. I have no idea what my life will look like 1-2 years from now. Right now, however, I am in fellowship with 61 bright, dedicated individuals, and I am very excited about this class, what we can do together, and what we can do for TCU.

That's all for now.

O Magnum Mysterium

wow..