Archive for the ‘Artists and Creative’ Category

falling off a horse

Posted: August 22, 2011 in Artists and Creative

I only have a moment to write, and you only have a moment to read; so I think this can work. I wanted to say something about falling off a horse, as I know a thing or two about it. This has happened to all of us. Picture it: you were riding brilliantly, strong, quick and steady, and with epic courage. And then, for one reason or another you fell. You got too close to the edge; an animal darted out in front of you. Something caused you to fall. Maybe you even broke a bone or two in the process and it stung quite a lot. And then one day the scrapes healed, the bones mended, and you found yourself standing in front of your horse again with memories of the joys of riding, how the wind felt rushing past and the thrill of blazing trails into the unknown. But you stand there for a minute. Then an hour. What if you don’t remember how to ride? (more…)


the deep downs

Posted: July 13, 2011 in Artists and Creative

There is something beautiful that happens when you read a simple, fairytale story.  It’s something that is hard to put into real words, yet feels as real as anything you’ve ever felt.  First, there is the maiden.  The princess. And she is in trouble.  Then there is you, the hero.  The knight.  There is danger.  There is the flash of metal and the certainty of death.  And the hero’s choice to face it anyway; to run, in fact, with all abandon into that which will certainly claim his life.  But she’s worth it. A thousand times over, she is worth it.  His  determination and courage help him along the way, but in the end it is his love for her that saves her and, in return, saves him.  And the kingdom is a better place for it. (more…)

what’s your dream?

Posted: January 17, 2011 in Artists and Creative

I’ve been following the #IHaveADream campaign on twitter these past few days.  People from across America and around the world are speaking their dreams aloud into the tweetosphere, and it is inspiring.  Many of the posts, appropriately, center around racial reconciliation.  Still others address broader dreams for human equality.  Being freshly inspired, I couldn’t help but jump in with the first of my own: “#IHaveADream that one day tolerance will end and respect will take its place”.

When my wife and I moved to Nashville almost 15 years ago, I held a narrow view that went something like this:  “Racism is in the past.  Can we please get over it?  Let’s move on.”.  In fact, it was years before my heart was softened and my eyes were opened to the more subtle form that racial division has taken.  It’s as though racism sensed that it was no longer culturally acceptable, so it went underground.  As I pondered this over the years, I gradually became aware (more…)

The food was amazing.  At least it was easy to imagine that it was.  You could smell it even as we pulled up to the house in the family wagon. We spilled out of the car with the grace of a wounded swan after our long trip on snowy roads.  There were six of us and the car was too small; our own interpretation of the clowns, a tiny car, and the big top.  My sister, two brothers, and I scurried across the snow to the front door, slipping and sliding.  The smallest by a mile, I always came in dead last.  The front door was opened.  Hugs and kisses were exchanged.  On to the first order of business, the bathroom.  Again, a race.  Again, last place.  Dang!  It had been a long trip.  As I rocked back and forth, waiting impatiently for my turn, I could smell the amazing aromas wafting out the kitchen, calling out to my rumbling stomach.  In this moment, I felt not unlike Odysseus, as his boat sailed past the luring song of the Sirens.  The Sirens had sought to lure Odysseus to imprisonment on their island and to ultimate death.  This, I suppose, is where the similarities end.  Odysseus was returning from war, on a mission to his rescue his wife and his kingdom from being overthrown.  I just had to pee and wash my hands so that I could eat.  Still, as my task felt no less noble, I lashed myself to the doorknob just in case.  OWW!  A good, solid punch in the arm was one way I always knew my brother really loved me.  (more…)