You go for an honest walk and slowly the world opens up until you can taste God in everything around you.
This is crazy, guys. I’ve been writing for the past 4 hours. Emails to here and there. Tidings of upcoming travels and epistles to friends and interviewees who inquire as to adventures past, present, and dreaming. I really love writing and it’s funny how I find myself getting back in the groove of it. I used to write stories day after day about the silliest imaginings of my developing mind. It was fun to imagine my high school crush as the Queen of Sheeba or the neighborhood dog as a vicious dinosaur. It’s not like I ever stopped those little plays inside my head, but most of what I’ve written since I left college have been brief business-y emails for shows and such. The rest amounts to random and freeform non-linear ponderings or scribbles of poetry here and there. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything substantial and I guess what I’m saying is it’s nice to have someone to have to write in (sometimes) full sentences too.
Whoever you are, you’re that someone.
I had such a marvelous weekend, Minneapolis. Thank you so much. It was really nice to just wander around the streets these past few days and just let my thoughts take me. I had some pretty funny things happen along the way, which is never surprising, but more directly I got to breathe in the cold spring air and remember all the good and hidden treasures one can only find when they go for an honest walk. This city has heart and soul and sitting on the corner or walking around for a couple miles really got me falling in love with this place all over again. It’s a kind happening. It let’s me know that I can leave and come back. It lets me know that though I will grow and change and stay the same, each fleeting look is in all it’s brilliant instances of beauty is only ever a reflection of myself. With that every ephemeral glance is a new opening into some brand new insight. A city within a city within a city within a city.
I wrote a lot of stories in my head while I walked around too. I met a man who I thought could have been my father. I knew of course that he wasn’t, but it was funny to feel that way, even if for just a couple moments. It was so intense and surreal. I remember talking to this older woman at the bar in Mankato last week. The subject of my parents came up (a “you’re such a nice boy, tell me about your parents” sort of thing) and I admitted that I virtually have no clue who my father could be and that I honestly don’t really mind. I’ve had a bunch of great teachers my whole life and never felt the need for someone to fill that void. Would I have rather grown up in a more traditionally functioning Mother/Father family unit? sure. maybe. But as far as longing for some father I know I’m never going to have, that’s never been my style.
Yet, here I am, just chilling on Chicago Ave when I see some old homie on the side of the street. We shake hands and sit in the cold and talk about warmer places and as I’m leaving to go, something about the look in his eye just shook me. Like he knew something deeper about me. Something that I could only ever imagine. It was startling and beautiful and if I ever see that guy again I’ll call him “daddio” just for the fun of it.
The whole rest of my walk was pretty much on that same level. I was trying so hard to get home to see my Mom and Sister that day but I just couldn’t seem to get the pieces together. I missed the train, my ride bailed on me, I missed another train. You guys should have seen me running around downtown trying to catch that thing. It was such a laugh. I got down to the empty train station and just felt like a little kid who just dropped his ice cream cone. It was funny watching my ego work out the disappointment. First I was so damn angry I wanted to chuck my phone into the abyss. Then I was so sad I wanted to sit on the ground and just cry all afternoon. After a couple minutes of throwing inner tantrums, I finally reached a boiling point where I just wanted to hit something. Then I just took a deep, and reminded myself that the entire thing was my fault and therefore completely in my control. I was the one who had the expectation to go somewhere. I was the one who didn’t look up the directions to the train properly. I was the one who waited until 10 minutes before hand to leave for the station. Every little detail was my fault. It was funny too, because even when I first started feeling pitiful and helpless and upset, I knew in the back of my mind that this was for the greatest good. Even as the confusion and frustration started to get the best of my control, I could feel the lesson coming through it all. It’s good to mess up sometimes and remember that for all my meditations and pondering, something so little can make me feel so small and helpless. I honestly hadn’t felt that way in a long time and can deeply appreciate the lessons. They all further push my experience of consciousness closer to where I want to be. I want to be unattached. I want to be open and honest and know that the only control I have is where I place my time and energy and in how I react to things. It’s one thing to talk about being free of expectations, but to have them fall apart in front of your face at your own doing is another entirely. So I missed the train. Big deal. Next time I’ll plan ahead a little better. The rest is history. No big deal. Time to let go.
As always I’m so incredibly grateful that everything in life can be a lesson, viewing each instant as a chance to learn more about myself and the world around which I view that sense of being.
Anyway, my Mom surprised me and brought my Sister down for the evening. It was so amazing you guys. We went to the Mall of America and I took my sister straight to Nickelodeon Universe and got her an unlimited ride wristband. Watching her bursting with excitement on all of those crazy flashing rides was such a joyful feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a roller coaster and being whipped around by those twisting lines of steel with my little amigette was pretty hilarious. She’s the coolest thing in the world, y’all. My living breath. My darling little bee.
There’s a lot more to say here. Daydreams about ancient egyptian princes wrapped in gold and anointed in cinnamon, transported thousands of years in the future, reincarnated as a common beetle. Real healing vibrations with my sister and Mom. Real soul talks with Tim on family struggle and triumph. Real groovy jams with the boys and a little hawaiian storytelling on the side. Real heart talks with the band about where we’re all at as boys learning to be men, as musicians refining our craft, as persons of this great and awful nation searching for our place amongst the empire. .
It’s good to breathe deep. It is good to ride roller coasters. It’s good to be in a band and talk about the girls that drive us wild and think about things beyond our comprehension. It’s good to eat pizza and listen to Prince on a Friday night. It’s good to hold hands with my Mother and Sister and walk around with no direction but no worries or cares. It is good to be in love. It is good to be young. It is good to think of fathers I’ll never know and good to cry and smell the lilacs and smile as the cars drive by and be thankful to just be alive.
Thank you, Minneapolis. I have so deeply missed your charms.
If you guys can make it I’ll be playing two shows in town this week. One acoustic. One with the band. This Wednesday I’ll be at Honey. This Thursday I’ll be at the Cabooze. Tickets to each are $7 and it would mean a bunch to me to see y’all out there.
May 2nd, Honey MPLS:
May 3rd, The Cabooze:
I love you. Thank you.