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July 3rd, 08 My next full length album, "Jacaranda", will be released this August of 2008. I'll make pre-orders available within the week. Stay tuned. Josh www.osmek.com www.osmek.com |
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May 12th, 08 Stone Tree & Underquiet: Downloadable Compilation Now Available. As I prepare to release my next album I also have to consider what's to be done with some of my older work. My first album, Stone Tree, has been unavailable for a few years due to the amount of sampling that I layered within the songs. My second album, Underquiet, will no longer be available in its current form once the remaining copies that I have on stock have been sold. My plan has been to take these two albums and condense them into one compilation album, along with adding a few unreleased songs from the same time period. This new compilation will most likely be available in hard copy within the year. But until then, I've put together a digital compilation that's now available for download through SnoCap! You can download this 15 song album for $9.99, or you can download your favorite songs individually. Enjoy! |
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March 20th, 08 "Off the Record" in Indianapolis Star and Sneak Peek at New Work: Hey all, this past Monday Neal Taflinger from the Indianapolis Star drove up to our hideout on the banks of the Mississinewa River to ask me some questions about my music and approaching release. Michelle made us all some Indian food while Neal and I talked for quite some time. After lunch we set up on the back porch where I performed "Words Remain", one of the songs to be released on this next album. Here's a sneak peek at my new work, and you can read the story by following this link--> www.indy.com |
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November 26th, 07 Walking on Water: This past month I had the pleasure of going on tour with a whole crew of people for the premiere of a new surf documentary called "Walking on Water"(check it out at: www.walkingonwater.org). The directors of the film ended up using about six of my songs in the movie, and my involvement seemed to increase as the release date drew nearer. When the time finally came to premiere the film, Michelle and I were invited to get on the RV with about 15 surfers, filmmakers, and musicians, and travel up the east coast, city by city. We started in Florida and made our way all the way to New York city and then back down. My job on the team was to be the "opener" each night, playing a short set before the film began. They also had skate demos with the likes of Chad Tim Tim among others, BMX and motorcross demos, and some of the pro sufers from the film, such as the Hobgoods and Jesse Hines, making appearances each night to talk about surf, film, and their faith. In the end we did about 14 shows in 18 days, with one of the highlights being the 5000 person turn out to the Virginia Beach Premiere! The good thing about being on the road with a bunch of surfers, though, is that amidst the hectic schedule there always seems to be time made to get out of the RV and hotel rooms and get down to the beach for some time in the waves. It was a great trip. |
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October 10th, 07 New Single: Free Download - "Mercy Triumph-Balafon Version" One hot Indiana Saturday this past summer I camped out with a few friends in the cooling shelter of the studio to record a remix of an older song of mine called "Mercy Triumph". The original song was built with samples and was recorded at a live show, in which I proclaimed to the audience (and since then to thousands of Underquiet album listeners) "this is a song in the works"....Now, years after the original "in the works" release, it's been fullfilling to complete what was begun. The new version is a completely different animal though, sharing only the mood and lyrics of the original release, the "Bala Version" is performed with a full band and has a new melody. It's called the Bala Version due to the fact that my friend Joseph Lehner plays the Balafon (a wooden African xylophone) through the duration of the song, and with Jay Kirkpatrick on bass and Matt Robertson on drums the balafon slowly emerges within this percussive trio until it overtakes the song in the final minutes. Mark Guinn also showed up for a few hours and recorded subtle guitar work for the second verse. All in all the day of collaboration was fruitful, and I had tons to work afterwards, alone in the studio. It's been a joy to work as a "solo artist", yet to find myself functioning within a collective of other imaginative musicians. Go to "MP3's" section of this site to listen to, and download, the song for free. Enjoy- |
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September 26th, 07 An old friend of mine Matt Connor just launched a new music webzine about a month ago, and has come out of the gates at full sprint. Already, he and his team have daily updating of reviews, interviews, artist blogs, and free Mp3's. As of today there's an interview we did together headlining the sites opening page. Beware, they trascribed my ramblings word for word, and I take a lot of rabbit trails and tangents, but I usually end up answering the question eventually. If you're interested in the site or would like to read the interview, you can find them @: www.stereosubversion.com |
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September 11th, 07 When the Wrinkle in Time Has Come: I've just moved to out to the country to begin the long and exciting process of writing and recording my fourth home made album. Amidst the corn fields of Indiana, I've been spending my mornings on the porch of John Dillingers old gettaway house overlooking the slow moving Mississinewa River while reading Madeleine L'engles helpful book addressing faith and art called "Walking on Water". In this place, more at peace than I've been in years, her words have been moving my mind and spirit into a position of anticipation, back to a simple childlike creativiy. Wide open spaces have a way of refreshing those things we tend to forget, in this particular case, what a joy it is to create music. I hung my head when I logged onto the internet today, and found that my beloved mentor Madeleine has to just died at a good old age. Farwell old friend, you'll be missed! Yet, we'll see you in the place where all time a purpose are made one, where chronological time is swallowed forever more by Kairos time, and all manner of things shall be well. |
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June 25th, 07 About an month ago, my wife and I rented a documentary that we'de been hoping to see for quite some time. We closed the blinds on a Saturday afternnoon and sat down to watch "Favela Rising". The film documents the transformation of one of the most violent slums in Rio de Janeiro, through the use of music and art. Amidst murder, drug wars, and corrupt politics, a group rises up within the war torn ghetto, and they begin to fight for the restoration of their families and neighborhood using the non-vioent weaponry of rhythm, dance, and prophetic poetry. Eventually this fire sparks a movement that in turn affects other neighborhoods, cities, slowly rippling out to the world. Whenever I find examples of the arts being used as a tool of restoration, social justice, prophecy, and liberation, something resounds deep in my spirit. In a culture where the arts are largely used for entertainment or to fuel an arrogant pride in ones aesthetic sophistication, there's something refreshing and hopeful about the possibility of art being used to bring true change. What if there is a dimension to creativity that is powerful beyond our assumptions? We forget, or refuse to believe, in stories such as that of King Jehoshaphat, who sent musicians out in front of his army in the day of battle praising God with with drums and with their voices. When they came upon their enemy (who were much more numerous than they were), the wicked men had already slayed themselves in a spirit of confusion (2nd Chronicles 20). I believe that this generation is hungry for meaning, and is attracted to an authentic process as the basis for judging the final product. As this relates to the arts, I believe more and more people are growing tired of expensive media fluff, and are realizing that the satisfaction it brings is short lived, tiring, and ultimately unhealthy (kind of like fast food). We want fresh food, with no hormones, pesticides, or preservatives! Back to the source. We want art that comes from the deep, natural part of humanity, which will in turn nourish the souls of mankind, making men strong, vibrant, and able to step up into their God given identity. As I step towards a lifestyle of making music full time, I do not presume to lay hold of this vision, or power of creativity all at once. In many ways I feel like I'm slowly making my way through the maze of this matrix, leaving flags posted here and their to remind me of where I've been. Becasue this particular pattern is all we've known, stepping out of the pattern and into a new one, is a long process in an of itself. I've had to recognize how often I have no idea what the next step is, I'm tempted to turn back, but just then the next step will be revealed by some divine, timely revelation. And I move forward with what I've been shown. And this applies to much more than the creative process.... News: I'll be at the Cornerstone Festival this coming weekend. If you're there, I'de love to have your support at the Gallery Stage on Saturday night. (Show flier hand painted and stitched by Michelle Garrels)*** |
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May 31st, 07 Embarkation Come the end of this summer I'll be setting out upon the next leg of my journey through this life. A new season, if you will. Although these changes are a part of life, it never fails to suprise me when a new season arrives. Being from the midwest, the winters here seem to drag on forever, grey, cold, and bleak, and then, it seems that in the blink of an eye the green warmth of spring is upon us. We awaken from our sedentary hibernation and witness the landscape become transformed by the long awaited sun and rain and luscious growth. Since I started making this music some 5 years ago, I've always had my time and energies split up between several different commitments (music, pastoring, study, business, travel, etc.). And now for the past year or so I've been living in a growing tension. I've had the realization that I'm on the cusp of entering a new season in my life, but also the acknowledgement that presently I'm spread to thin. Being prepared for a change, but not knowing what that change would look like, I've had to wrestle with the Lord and with myself. The result is a vision, that has been slowly refined and sharpened, and now must be acted on. This August I'll begin, for the first time, making music my primary and full time focus. This coming season of music creation is an enormously exciting step to be making, but it also has embedded within it the elements of risk and uncertainty (as all exciting steps seem to...). Naturally, there are other things that I have to let go of in order to fully embrace this opportunity, and this doesn't happen without some heartbreak. I've been in what I call "reaction mode" with this music for the past several years, which basically means I haven't been able to fully follow my creative vision, but as an independent artist I've been busy reacting to the responses and opportunities that have come through the music (and letting many of these fall through the cracks I might add!). This is an encouraging dilemma to have, but something has to change, for I've not had the time or energy to take the music to the place that it's now beckoning me to follow. I'm looking forward to having time, and space, and focusing my energy more fully on one thing. I've had to learn that this work is mine to enter into, it has been given to me to build, and it will require much time and patience, trial and error. As Ranier Maria Rilke writes, "This above all-ask yourself in the stillest hour of the night: must I write? Delve yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge, and a testimony to it. Then draw near to Nature. Then try, like some first human being, to say what you see and experience and love and lose." I have much more to share with you all concerning this vision, Small Voice, and the direction I'm moving towards art and development, music and social justice, but I'll save these for my further posts. For now, to end this letter, here are some words that have come to me in the midst of this change of seasons. Desert Father: When we were young we walked where we wanted to Life was ours But now we've grown old, we go where we're told The Lords spirit calls He's singing Follow my road to sorrow, and joy Be innertwined And find, all things are under my wings and rise Given time. O my, Brother sun, Sister moon, all children of light Fly around the world, let the glory be unfurled All things are made new. We're marching on To a Spirit song, that no man can cage In lands of dead wood That reject the good, from our old Fathers hands But we run free, and weep gracefully In a world dark and cold Hold on All you who wait by the blue shore For Him. To part the water, Desert Father Show us a new way The impossible dream, through the deep and the unseen Carry us home. *To Comment, write to me at: Jgarrels@joshgarrels.com Thanks |
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April 21st, 07 Gun Barrels Tour: Last month Michelle and I packed up and flew out to Boulder, Colorado to do another short tour with our friends Trace Bundy and his wife Becca. Trace has developed quite a following, both in Colorado and beyond, with his complex and innovative guitar picking style, and it was a pleasure to share the stage with a musician that I hold in deep respect. It's also really nice to arrive in a new place so far from home and have multiple nights packed out shows and appreciative listeners! Between shows we were able to do some rock climbing in El Dorado Canyon, meet a bunch of fabulous new friends in the Boulder area, drink a lot of coffee, visit New Belgium Brewery, and of course...share lots of conversation. There's talk of planning an annual Garrels/Bundy tour, so look out for Gun Barrels tour in 08, aye! *Video Footage from Colorado: I've started a YouTube account in order to post live footage from shows. You can check out a few of the songs from my perfomance in Fort Collins, CO here: www.youtube.com *Mike Garrels Music: Since I was a child I've seen my father at the piano in our living room, writing songs in the evening to decompress from a days work and add some beauty to life. Recently I re-mastered a handful of his songs and created a Myspace page to host his recordings. Feel free to visit and listen to the nostalgic sounds of my father's music. You can check out Mike Garrels music here: www.myspace.com |
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February 5th, 07 Bellywater Handmade My wife Michelle has just launched her own handcraft site. She's been making bags, journals, cards, quilts, aprons and other practical art, along with her visual art, for many years. Now, she's decided to make these homespun products available to the world! For those familiar with Bellywater Press (pressed Underquiet and Letters to Street Christians), Michelle's work is housed under the "handmade" extension of this eclectic company. Check in every so often as her products will be changing regularly. Take a visit at: www.bellywater.etsy.com |
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November 15th, 06 Process Begins: In an effort of heartfelt urgency to become more prolific with music, I've begun the accumulation of ideas, words, sounds, and themes as I embark upon the creation of another album. By prolific, I merely mean to be constantly working, rather than waiting for the sporadic moments inspiration to posses me. I mean to create a wealth of work, and then scrape off the dross and weaker elements, hopefully being left with something solid that remains. Yet, there's also the practical fact that if I don't start fleshing out my ever increasing ideas, into material, I think I'll drive myself crazy. My wife is tired of me leaning toward her in the car and saying, "I can't wait to start recording!", and then rambling on about some new idea of interest. So it begins. As I sit down with blank journal pages, a new mic that I don't yet know how to use, and little melodic snippits that refuse to give birth to full songs, I'm struck, once again, by how strange this process really is. It's exciting, and hard, and ultimately it begins before ever sitting down with pen, paper, and guitar. I've begun a fresh journey inward, in solitude, to hear what the spirit speaks to my heart, what the Lord speaks to the world, and how these affect my soul. I may have a personal slant, interpretation, to what I hear and find on this journey, but if it's eternal it's universal, and this means it wont be meant for only me, but for others as well. This is the hope. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke, an accomplished poet, wrote some letters to a young struggling poet that were later published for all of us struggling artists to digest and meditate upon. His words have been a source of guidance to me as I navigate the creative process. Perhaps his words will help you along your way today. Rilke writes: "You ask whether you verses are good. You ask me. You have asked others before. You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems, and you are disturbed when certain editors reject your efforts. Now (since you have allowed me to advise you) I beg you to give up all that. You are looking outward, and that above all you should not do now. Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write. This above all-ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night. Must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and testimony to it. Then draw near to Nature. Then try, like some first human being, to sat what you see and experience and love and lose. A work of art is good if it is sprung out of necessity." *Artwork: "Three Fish" by Michelle Garrels |
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November 3rd, 06 North Carolinian All Hallows Eve & Harvest Tour. This past weekend myself and a few others packed up a borrowed truck to the brim, and took the southern road down to North Carolina. Our purpose was a three show mini-tour in conjunction with the Psalters and the end of their long long tour schedule. They've been raising funds in order to buy 8 round trip tickets to Turkey, where they'll live amongst Kurdish refugees for about two months. The Kurds are the largest group of refugees in the world. The Psalters purpose is to learn from those who have been displaced and have no power or place on earth to call a home. They're believing & following the upopular notion that the poor and destitute of the world may carry with them a blessing to mankind, a spiritual awakening similar to that of the Israelites during their 40 year desert wandering. In the words of Psalter Scott, "living an impoverished life isn't very good for your body or your comfort, but its good for your spirit." My spirit was moved as I assessed my own heart, & how often I know I make anxious decisions to protect my body, things, & comfort. This must change. I pray the Psalters are blessed & are a blessing to the Kurdish people. On Halloween night we reached the climax of our little road trip. Previously we'de done shows in Charlotte, & then a wonderful outdoor festival called the Harvest Gathering, which was hosted by the Glen Clark Family up in the lore filled mountains of Asheville. On Halloween we pulled into Wilmington around dusk, got our feet wet on the shell filled coast, & then set up for our last show. My surfer friend Jason Andre hosted the show, & then collaborated with both groups, playing didjeridoo, djembe, & even the kurdish Saz. For the first time the Psalters & I collaborated with eachother also. They accompanied me with thick lovely percussion during part of my set, & then I joined in harmony as we sang their ol' spiritual numbers. I'm gonna let revolution, turn me round, turn me round. They're a good group of brothers and sisters. Michelle was given a beautiful set of woodpecker wings as a gift by a newfound friend, Charity. I knew my songbird would receive her wings. It was a wild halloween indeed. P.S. - If you'de like to help financially support the Psalters on their trip to Turkey, find out more by visiting their site: www.psalters.com |
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October 16th, 06 The Prophets Part 3: Fire in the Bones What compels us onward in our most heartfelt pursuits? Is it the recognition & applaud of our family, friends, fans or critics? If our work is contingent upon the acceptance or rejection of our fickle fellow men, we are doomed to the slow degradation of compromise, and eventually impotence. You cannot truly love anyone who holds power over your life: your decisions, work, identity & destiny. You will hate them yet serve them out of fear, as the pagan bows down to an idol that makes his life miserable & un-free. If the idol is appeased it may grant its worshipper some small fleeting reward; if it is angered it is feared for its power to hurt & destroy. The house that is built upon the sand will be washed away when the storm comes crashing down, and its fall will be great. Our lives, our words & art--these are not meant to be swept away by the power of men or idols, but they?re meant to stand fast, like a strong refuge amidst the beating torrent, offering shelter & blessing to mankind. The wise man built his house upon the rock. We must perch ourselves upon the unmovable rock, like a lighthouse on the edge of a raging sea, issuing forth a flame of hope and warning. The solitude and resolve of this rock dwelling station may seem laughable & outdated in a world of ever-changing opinions & seasons. Yet, when the tempest of the dark night rains down with fury, & homes are washed away, & ships are lost at sea, many will see & thankfully understand why the house of flame rests upon the rock. So it must be with the prophet/artist, & the fire that has been placed in his bones. He must speak true things, continually, regardless of external pressures, criticism, or even opposition. He must live, create, & speak out of deep conviction & sincere love for mankind, calling hearts to hope and to warning, all the while knowing that his work may be misunderstood, rejected, & scoffed at by his fellow men. The acceptance or rejection of his work does not move him from his work, for his work is founded in love. A prophet toils in freedom & in love because no man has control or power over him. Alas, like a mystery revealed, many will see and joyously understand his words & deeds, perhaps long after he?s gone, & in this revelation many will find blessing and shelter from a shifting & unforgiving world. (*Drawing Above: Some explanation may be needed, in that at first glance this picture may appear a bit gruesome. The sword pierces outward from within, where the heart resides, rather than entering from without by an external destructive force. His weapon is not in his hands but in his heart. The fire represents conviction and empowerment that begins within a man. As this flame grows and becomes hotter it will affect the mans words, deeds, and how he sees the world around him. He will shine in the darkness.* It's only a representation..... :) |
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September 25th, 06 Thanks to all who came out to the shows in Seattle and Canada a few weeks ago! We felt such a warm welcome from the folks at Q Cafe, and from Josh Barkey and friends. The trip to the northwest was a mix of vacationing, friends' wedding, visiting family, and performances...which were kind of an exploratory journey on my part in that I'd never played in that area of the country. It's good to know that there's an audience in Seattle (which seems to be a highly music saturated city), and I've also found that the Canadians of the northwest are some of the most vigorous music appreciators I've yet encountered! All this to say, I look forward to planning our next little tour in the northwest. Be blessed. *Photos taken by Leo Chen during performance a Q Cafe. |
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August 8th, 06 Sufficient for Today Is the work that we are given. I remembered this while sitting on my back patio, feeling slightly anxious over unfinished projects, pending correspondence, and ever new ideas that come whirling about. It's so easy to be overcome, and find oneself swiftly swept away by the avalanche of demanding thoughts and the grip of perceived obligations. I remembered today to step out of the way, and let that snowball roll on past. Because I've ridden it before, and it picks up more and more weight and speed exponentially. Out of control the mass moves much faster than anyone could ever keep up to, or compete with. It only stops when we're buried and helpless back at the bottom of the mountain; waiting for the sun to thaw the heap upon us or for some good soul to hear our muffled cry and dig us out. Let the hurried and frantic mass of expectations and obligations plow past you today. Sit still, look at the grass and trees that abide in the earth and are not moved by the avalanche. Let your heavenly Father tell you what he has made you to do today. Abide. An old hasidic Jew named Nachman of Bratslav believed in the virtues of solitude. He said, "a man should spend at least one hour each day alone in a room or a field, engaged in secret dialogue with the Master of the Universe. And a man should think only of what he has to do for God that day, and it will not be too burdensome for him. All a man has in the world is the now, that day and the hour where he is, because tomorrow is an entirely different world." --The Gift of Asher Lev. Music News: *Apple Itunes: Over Oceans is now available for digital download Get it @: phobos.apple.com *Nick Hendrix, the man who crafted my Seven Star Guitar, has a commercial guitar-making website up. Visit him @: www.soulrenderguitars.com. |
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July 20th, 06 SISU Many have inquired as to what the word "sisu" stands for, as it's one of the song titles on Over Oceans. My mother is a full blood Finn, a descendant from Finland, and the Finnish people have a word for themselves, and this is sisu. When I was young I would spend magical summers at my grandparents home up in Michigan, taking group saunas and swimming in lakes with the Finnish community. The word would be seen on bumper-stickers or carved into wood above the sauna doors. Sisu means "stubborn guts". We would be told stories of brave Finnish warriors who protected their country, against all odds, during World War II. Our ancestors had sisu, and so we must also. Here's an articulate definition I found recently: "Sisu is a unique Finnish concept. It stands for the philosophy that what must be done will be done, regardless of what it takes. Sisu is a special strength and persistent determination and resolve to continue and overcome in the moment of adversity?an almost magical quality, a combination of stamina, perserverance, courage, and determination held in reserve for hard times". I entitled the song sisu, because I know this same resolve must be made as warriors of the kingdom of heaven. We must lay down our lives, and follow the Lord with persistent determination, against all odds, even if the whole world comes against us we'll keep pushing forward even unto death. We must have stubborn guts, but for all the right reasons. You must die to be set free Living in the Kingdom of God eternally Open up my eyes so that I can see And die with a cry revolutionary Every man and woman is a witness And we will never forget this Truth. |
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April 22nd, 06 Small Voice Coinciding with the recording and release of Over Oceans I've also been working hard to bring another dream into fruition. It's my pleasure to introduce to you: Small Voice. A homespun record label, created to house and nurture musicians and artists who are willing to walk the path of a slow and steady growth. A growth in art, faith, and character that only comes from continually living out personal conviction, belief, and purpose. I believe that meaningful art is a byproduct of the process of real life, real sorrow, and real hope. When these foundational building blocks of experience are bypassed for the quick gain, and made into an irrelevant soundbyte, that is then exploited unto the masses, the masses begin to believe what the loudspeaker is telling them. Compromise, falseness, and vanity become the norm and are even embraced by those who have been seduced by the false promise of reaching a glorious end without ever knowing the means to this end. To make the leap straight from "A" to "Z" without learning all the letters in between those two endpoints would mean that you have no message, authority, or lesson to write to us. My hope and vision for myself and for all who are to join this community that is Small Voice, is that we would remain true to that small voice that has been placed within us. Oh, that we would live, and produce art honestly with the utmost care, and do so despite any current media trends or flawed industry standards that scream for our attention, and threaten to engulf us. We will feel inadequate and humble in the presence of these powerful giants, but that does not make our stance wrong. This label will grow as we grow, and as we build this house, slowly, with our own hands we'll add on when there's need. Eventually, others will come from near and far, and take part in this work with us. Our front porch will be the make-shift platform as we stomp our feet and sing stories of the beauty and truth we've found together. The wind will carry the echoes of these homespun hymns wherever it pleases, and perhaps in their quiet moment there will be some who will pause, and hear...and be pleased. Contact us with your thoughts, support, or arm of friendship at: Small Voice P.O Box 1922 Indianapolis, IN 46206-1922 Much love. |
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March 20th, 06 New Release Over Oceans: Josh Garrels' new full length album is scheduled to be released by April 25th, 2006. Six beautiful panels and a full booklet of original artwork created by Michelle Garrels. Twelve songs sung by Josh, spanning the range of sound from finger picking folk, to a full band orchestrating abstract hip hop. Note: Release date hase been pushed back 10 days from the original date of the 15th of April. |
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January 28th, 06 It's better to have a little and be content, than to have amassed stock piles of ill gotten gain, this is what wise Solomon once said. Yes, we're the small ones, and we're moving somewhere beneath the radar of the worlds power and influence. Relatively undetected. Within random rooms and forgettable cities we work quietly, using what resources are within reason, pushing and exploring the parameters of our less than perfect instruments and surroundings...and thoughts. We're hoping to handcraft something, anything, that has integrity and purpose, even if it's made from another mans trash. "Those who are full loath the taste of honey, but to the hungry even what is bitter tastes sweet." We're living within a gridlocked structure, a system that is loathsome and full, that refuses to feed its inhabitants with anything of substance. And now, we little ones are hungry, and we're digging through the trash heaps and roaming the forgotten woods; searching, stalking, and slowly banding together to survive on the bitter roots and bread crusts we happen to find and share. We are joyful and content with what we've been given, as we sit around the fire sharing our stories, pictures, and songs that reflect of our lives. With love, and respect for one another we'll find the meaning and purpose embedded in life once again. For the answers the systematic spokesmen have sung to us have been as empty as our stomachs, and we're tired of chewing on that meatless bone. Here comes the manna from heaven, free, for all who have been led out of slavery. |
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January 2nd, 06 We're all working through the wrestling of our personal desires and the lives we've been alloted, today. How do we take small steps today, moving towards the unamable destiny which was whispered to us in our most vulnerable moment? Why oh why, can't we just take one giant leap and be done with it, laying hold of all that we've been secretly hoping for?...Why do we anxiously give up and walk the opposite direction, despite our truest longing, lumbering towards the safer second bests....wich are all too often bought and acquired without delay. Manipulated and manufactured today. Now, be still my friend, and set down the problem you've solved with such angry finality. Welcome back into your mind and heart the living tension of a story that can only be lived a day at a time, one step before the next. All will be revealed in due season, and right now is your preparation for the next piece of the puzzle, the awaiting revelation. (Left: art by Michelle Garrels)** **the making of a mind** above all, trust in the slow work of God. we are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. we should like to skip the intermediate stages. we are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new; and yet it is the law of all progress that is made by passing through some stages of instability-- and that it may take a very long time. and so i think it is with you, your ideas mature gradually-- let them grow, let them shape themselves without undue haste. don't try to force them on, as though you could be today what time (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will) will make you tomorrow. only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming in you will be. give the Lord the benefit of believing that God's hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete. -Teilhard de Chardin |
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December 21st, 05 I've been rambling on about finishing a third album for over a year and a half now, but alas, I will happily say that the project is steadily under way. I'm four songs into what I would like to be another full length album. Plugging away with a pile of instruments and machinery up in my little studio space, while my wife michelle is in another, painting and designing the cover art for this new homespun family-run release. The target date to have the final product available to the public will be either the end of March or early April 2006. Album Release Tour: We're planning to take the music on the road for a two to three week east coast tour. We'll hit the road as soon as the album is pressed and in our hands (end of march/early april). So far we've lined up shows in DC, Newport News VA, Hatteras NC, and potentially Columbia SC, Willmigton NC, St. Augustine FL. Contact me if you're living on or near the east coast and would like have us stop through your town for a show. Label: Over the years I've labored over the decision of whether or not to partner or sign with any major, or indy, record label. I've always had a deep seated hesitance and caution in my soul concerning "signing", and I've never fully known why or what to do with this. So, my resolve has been to go it alone until more is revealed, or at least until more makes sense. Such a time has come. Without unveiling "the name" or getting ahead of myself too much, I will let you all in on the reality that I've reached a point in which I'm quite certain that I'm going to begin a label of my own. There are many thoughts, convictions, and values concerning this decision that have been burned into over the years, and now I look forward to pioneering a way for these to be lived out more fully. I'll write more on this subject in the future...... Lastly a quote for you all: "If you want to know how to do a thing you must first have a complete desire to do that thing. Then go to kindred spirits--others who have wanted to do that thing--and study their ways and means, learn from their successes and failures and add your quota. Thus you may acquire from the experience of the race. And with this technical knowledge you may go forward, expressing through the play of forms the music that is in you and which is very personal to you." Chaim Patok from "My Name is Asher Lev" |
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December 3rd, 05 On November 19th, 2005, I entered into the covenant of marriage with my best friend Michelle. It was a beautiful day, and I thank all who stood with us to bare witness and to give an amen. A new journey begins, with a partner at my side, and a shared story to be lived. This privilage is not deserved. |
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November 14th, 05 Surfline: Last fall I flew out to Hatteras Island North Carolina to play a show. Upon arriving my host, Jason Andre, took me for a walk along the windy coast as we shared some of our life stories. We stopped, gazed out upon the ocean, and he turned to me and said, "man, do you want to go surf?". Twenty minutes later we were in wetsuits and some of his friends had come out to meet us. I still hadn't learned to stand up, for riding a board on waves is much different than riding a skateboard on concrete or stationary ramps, but Jason ripped, even on the little swells of the day. Since that weekend we've become good friends (he's flying out for my wedding this coming weekend), and we share a mutual respect for eachothers gifts and talents. Recently Jason and friends experienced some of the most epic waves upon Hatteras when hurricane Katrina swept through. They got the session on footage, made a video, and sent it to Surfline.com. He used one of my songs entitled "The Stand" from the Seven Stars DVD, and the site ended up posting the footage. This is exciting for me also, because the site is the premier surf site in the country, and it's an honor to be the soundtrack to such an epic moment. It's up for a limited time, so go and check it out: www.surfline.com Go to the "video" section. The date you want is 11/11. The footage is called "Spit! - Cape Hatteras Barrels". Jasons video is Clip #2. Us inlanders can only dream... Photo: Jason Andre frontside air in Hatteras |
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October 28th, 05 The Prophets: Part 2 If we are created to create, we must confront the impatience within our own souls, and then say "No" to a society that tells us to rush ourselves and bypass the process. Over and over again I meet young and old aspiring artists and musicians who are living in extreme anxiety. Hearts buckling under the pressure of a few heavy questions. "Is life as an artist feasable? Is it practical? Could I provide for myself with this work? Could I support a wife and a newborn child?". These are realistic questions, but if one doesn't stay on gaurd, unneeded fear and anxiety can worm their way into the decision making process of day to day living. One temptation is to disengage from actively taking risks with our time and our art. When this happens, money and comfort have taken priority over the inner desire to create and explore. All too often the art then becomes a hobby or a pastime activity that is relegated to an evening here and a free saturday morning there. For most, these focused moments of creation can be life-giving, but for the one who has been called to the work and has a fire in their bones to create, this will not be enough. They will not be able to shake the feeling of unfulfillment, for they are not only cheating themselves, but those who would be positively affected by their work. The next temptation is to rush, and bypass the process of growth and revelation, in order to reach what is seen as the end destination....right NOW. Compromise your values, integrity, and your work in order to receive the whole cake immediately. Then, you won't have to worry about money, respect, or whether or not you're really "worth it" in the end. Everyone will love you, and you'll have a huge platform to broadcast your work that is obviously so important it must be heard. Right? If you choose this path of compromise you will cut the legs out from underneath yourself and your work, rendering yourself impotent and crippled. You will be swayed by your newfound "audience" and bend to their will, and you will abandon that small powerful voice that was placed within you. Your first love will be lost, but maybe you'll be media idol to some distant faceless person who has believed your lie. Unfulfillment will find you on this end of the spectrum also, as you've deceived yourself of your true voice and true calling. We must engage in the full process, no matter how slow, tedious, unknown, or joyful. The fullness of time. True art will come from a true life lived, not from a fearful retreat from life and risk. Be courageous. Stand up. Have faith to live the impossible. While in the desert fasting for 40 days Christ was tempted Satan (the god of this world). Satan said, "Bow down to me and I will give you all the kingdoms of this world." Compromise, and I'll give you what you know is destined to be yours anyway. If Christ had bowed down, his life would have been rendered impotent, and he would not have tread the long road of suffering that led to the cross. He knew his path, his identity, his high calling, and he lived it out day by day in power without compromising. In the end he was exalted to the highest place of honor, and given authority to grant eternal life to all who call on his name. He owns the earth and the heavens, and broke Satan's power. I share this because we, too, must walk this same road of trust and conviction. If you do, you will be given authority and revelation that is not of yourself, and you will overcome the vain powers that are trying to intimidate you into a life of impotent formulaic mediocrity. Follow the most holy spirit to freedom and new creation. |
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October 16th, 05 Driving through the relatively uninhabited lands of the west, Michelle and I began to read the poetry of Wendell Berry aloud to one another. This earthbound rural Kentucky farmer called our souls to account with the following verses. If you're in agreement let the words inflame your hearts cry, and if you're opposed then ask yourself why. Manifesto: The Mad Farmer--Liberation Front Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay. Want more of everything ready-made. Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be a mystery any more. Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer. When they want you to buy something they will call you. When they want you to die for profit they will let you know. So, friends, every day do something that wont compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who doesn't deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands. Give your approval to all you cannot understand. Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed. Ask the questions that have no answers. Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias. Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Listen to the carrion-put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts. So long as women do not go cheap for power, please women more than men. Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth? Go with your love to the fields. Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap. Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts. As soon as the generals and the politicos can predict the motions of your mind, lose it. Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn't go. Be like a fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection. --Wendell Berry amen. |
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October 9th, 05 Engagement: It's official and extraordinary. After several years of distance, silence, and separation I've been reunited with my long lost love Michelle Ramsdale. Over the past few months our hearts and paths have been brought back together in a remarkable way. Last monday I flew out to Seattle and asked for her hand while walking in the Golden Gardens of the Puget Sound. Thankfully, her answer was "yes", and we proceeded to have a celebratory glass of wine and dinner with close friends. Early the next morning we began our thirty-six hour car ride, with the final destination being Indianapolis. Over the Big Horn Mountains, through Yellowstone, amidst bison and elk and a wonderland of snow we pushed on. From majestic Montana and Wyoming to desolate South Dakota we moved toward the heartland. After a final fifteen hour endurance challenge we arrived in the early hours of the morning on friday. Just in time for a midwest fall. Now we're together, resting, and preparing to enter our life together in the fullest. We've set the date: November 19, 2005! |
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September 26th, 05 PBS Presents: The Seven Stars Attention eastern-central Indiana residents (particularly Muncie folk). This coming Saturday night, October the 1st, our local PBS television station will be airing "The Seven Stars", a previously recorded live Garrels performance. The presentation will begin at 9 p.m. immediately after Austin City Limits (another show highlighting nationally broadcasted live music concerts). PBS is the televised cousin of NPR (National Public Radio), and both of these stations actively seek to maintain and nurture the dying art of utilizing media to enrich the lives of the public. I remember as a child giggling over Grover teaching the ABC's out of his trash can on Sesame Street, and later as a youth looking forward to Lavar Burton with butterfly and books on The Reading Rainbow. The same station brings us the scientific breakthroughs of NOVA and many other informative documentaries and presentations. It's an honor to join the ranks of these old friends, if only for one night. Tune in with me. The Seven Stars October 1st, 9 p.m. WIPB-PBS (Muncie Comcast channel 2) www.bsu.edu |
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September 18th, 05 The Prophets: I was talking with a friend last night while packing up after a show, and eventually the subject of "the prophet and the artist" arose between us. We both agreed that within the arts there is the amazing potential to shake souls and move mass culture, either toward further degradation or further restoration. When this power is placed in an artists hands, his/her selfcentered-greed or selfless-service toward fellow man will become evident. I use the word "potential" because many who call themselves artists (creators) do not in fact hold the key (authority/privilage) to enter into peoples hearts and souls with the work they create. Such work is mediocre and impotent due to its formulaic unoriginality. There is spirit and mystery in powerful work, and this moves beyond expensive and time-consuming technical training. Then there are the others who have actually been given the key, yet fear to use it, because the voice that has been placed within them is unlike anything they hear or see around themselves. The parameters of an established society of thought and image have no place for this new unknown entity, so the small voice is hushed and the interior dream abandoned. The few who end up using the key must then choose what to do with it; to control or to liberate our brothers and sisters. Build or destroy.... A.W Tozer writes, "Another kind of leader must arise from among us. He must be the old prophet type, a man who has seen visions of God and has heard a voice from the throne. When he comes (and I pray God there will be many) he will stand in flat contradiction to everything our smirking, smooth civilization holds dear. He will contradict, denounce and protest in the name of God and will earn the hatred and opposition of a large segment of Christendom. Such a man is likely to be lean, rugged, blunt-spoken and a little bit angry with the world. He will love Christ and the souls of men to the point of willingness to die for the glory of the one and the salvation of the other. But he will fear nothing that breaths with mortal breath." I can only hope to become one of these men. The picture above is of Charles G. Finney. He was a zealos man, an abolishonist who openly spoke out against slavery, fought for the equal rights of women, and led thousands to faith despite intense opposition on many fronts. |
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August 30th, 05 Seven Star Guitar: About a month ago I was presented with one of the most beautiful gifts that anyone has yet given me. My friend Nick Hendrix laboriously hand crafted a custom made guitar over the span of six or seven months. The guitar has a jumbo body in which to wrap my ectomorphic, long and lanky arms around, and it was Nicks idea to incsribe seven stars incircling the sound hole. The overall appearance is a natural beauty which highlights the original wood tones, and an absolutely one of a kind design and signature resting upon the whole. Looking closely at the craftsmanship many intricate, subtle, and ornate finishing touches rest upon the body and around the bends. Nick poured his sweat, study, free hours, and patience into this piece of work, and it shows. Alas, the day came when I was presented with the final product. Who am I to receive such a gift? It was an emotional moment when the guitar was placed in my arms as I was told, "Now you make the music". One mans craft blessing another mans craft. Humbling. Now the next test: How does it sound? As I began to strum and pluck I realized that this guitar has a personality all its own. It sounds wonderful. Full bodied sound, good resonance, with a healthy note distinction when playing chords. I've already begun to use the guitar in my new recordings. Once again, thank you Nick. *Check the "Photos" section for more pictures of the guitar. Nick is currently taking orders if you're interested in owning your own hand-crafted guitar. Here's his contact info: Nicholas Hendrix soulrender_ps32_1@hotmail.com 765-490-2605 Muncie, IN |
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August 18th, 05 Who among you has walked through the darkness and lived to see the light of morning? "We've traveled this long, we have to go on. Don't even look back to see how far you've come. Though your body is bended under the load, there's no where to stop anywhere on this road. I love the sound when, the tide is just turning, there will be an end to this longing and yearning. If I can stand up to angels and men, I'll never be taken by the darkness again" (Llasa). We endure, under the load, and we walk in the strength of a hope that has been placed deep within our souls. We have failed, yes, but this does not stop us from standing up, and continuing with a mightier resolve. Strengthened like a blade in the fire, or a broken bone that's been mended together, stronger than it was in the beginning. Our struggle is to return. The lie will never bring you back To where you came from The way seems unknowable Our chosen darkness And deceptive tongues Have so covered up the once straight path. Stumble to the ground Make a fool of yourself It's then you'll touch the stream of blood Faintly illuminated By the light of the moon Always moving, forever flowing, To the source Like a train of silver eels in the night Returning to the depths of the sea We, like babies, on hands and knees return |
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July 30th, 05 Flying through the countryside on a sun saturated day, and the windows are down. No music. Just wind and the drone of summer insects in the corn and the woods. The smell of bright blue, white cloud, and golden earth. One in the afternoon. Fleeing the city to find the voice, somewhere out there, where moss tuft and slate rock creek bed are continually forgotten and disregarded by the worlds mighty men. Alone, under the luminescent green canopy of leaf filtered sun rays. Pray. One day I'll join in the chorus of this subtler rhythm. Slow pulse of earth. My feet will become roots. My hands will reach to heaven and burst with leaf and fruit in their season. By the water I will abide. Letting time act upon me as she pleases, no longer seeking to control her steady torrent. At night in Muncie the tongue of the bonfire poured upward as it dimished into flaming fire flies. then to ash. Ascending to the stars above the tree tops, the river of flame was forty feet high. We sat forty feet back and beat our drums in the heatlight emination. The fire consumes, as mortal feet dance and faltering voices sing. Alive in this blaze of glory is what we are. Diminishing. Now a pile of glowing embers, the heat and light are contained yet multiplied in power and now emmiting an ancient beauty. Those who remain sit quietly at the fires edge and tell the secret stories of their souls. The embers glowing within. |
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July 25th, 05 Last night I turned the lights out quite late after leafing through the pages of several years of journal writing. It's a strange sensation to read the pages of your own life and see the interwoven story emerge. So many failures, so many joys, dreams birthing dreams, and ordinary days leading into divine moments. I awoke at around four in the morning with restless dreams and a clang of words rolling through my groggy head. I jotted the words down so as to be free from them, and then layed my head back on the pillow to renew my slumber. My thoughts twisted downward and upward in that tangential way as one drifts toward the sleeping netherworld. An old memory came to the surface. An old reoccuring dream that I used to have when I was a small boy. It was a dream of the most heightened and terrifying contrast, placed in juxtaposition and played out over and over. It would begin with the dark grinding of a head first plummet through soil and rock, deep into the depths of the earth. The sound and sensory overload would drone at a deafening and feverish pitch as I was forced downward, like a human seed being covered up, or born (sometimes I wonder if this is some sort of primordial memory of birth?). Then, the shocking contrast would take place. The scene would shift immediately to a sun saturated room, a stillness, quiet, a vast expanse, a slight breeze blowing the curtains through an open window. A small girl would be sitting in the middle of the room gazing quietly at a flower placed in a little vase on the table. Peace and serinity. These two scenes would transition back and forth through my night. I remember the affect of this dream would trail my little soul into my waking hours. The phrases of words that I was awakened with last night seem to be strangely coupled with the descent into the dark earth that I dreamed of when I was a child. But then, I also remembered the words of a song that I wrote for an old and dear friend over a year ago called "over oeceans". The words in this song seem to sing of the other side of the contrast, somehow linked with the little girl and the light filled peaceful expanse. Here are the two poems side by side: +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Go about the grinding stone And work it hard, as I work my bone The labor law of toil is sown On a sweating brow of material force The force of man is a valiant curse Heave through the pain Sing better, cry worse When the fruit of the womb Is a life that is nursed Joy will be a gift in the face of our struggle +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I remember when all the trees knew your name Flames from fire flies would light our way Have I lost all that which I never knew I had found Searching for you on the wing Will we be the same as we were once before Remember like children the stories of old Your hand was in mine by the firelight when we danced Mighty wind will carry me On oceans to you All my time comes to you How long has it been flying home again. --Josh |
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July 14th, 05 New Releases: It's my great pleasure to announce that 2 new studio recordings have now been released exclusively on this site. The songs are totally free for you to download and add to your music library. I've chosen to release the tracks "Joyful Boy" and "Roll On John" soley from the site, so this will be your only chance to acquire these tunes. A free gift from me to you. You'll find them located within the MP3 section. Other updates: *Bootleg MP3 version of "Going Home" recorded live with The Lions under the adept recording styles of Chris Braman. Hear Jay Kirkpatrick add the harmonica and bass, Mark Guinn on Wurlitzer and harmony, and Matt Robertson attack the drums with sensitive inginuity. *Audio track of "Trainsong" taken from Seven Stars and added to the music player within the "Listen" section (unavailable for downloading). *New photos and links and articles to be added shortly. As always, thank you for your support and encouragement in all things. |
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July 11th, 05 We've been placed within a living and breathing exhistance, and by force of time and non-escapable corruption and danger we're confronted with the impossible at every turn. Yet, we're unable to turn away, and are all forced to walk the way of the impossible in order to make our exhistance have true meaning and our souls to experience true life. That path: death to life, a seed must die in the earth in order to grow and bear new fruit, the worm must enter it's death sleep in the cacoon to later break free into colorful flight on the wing. The Virginia mystic Annie Dillard spent years of her life contemplating the cycles and mysteries of life and creation taking place in and around her beloved tinker creek. At night she would read wide and far eventually infusing bazaar facts stranger than fiction into her own daily observances. She tells us of the silver eels life cycle. Born in the Atlantic Ocean, the little one inch eels squirm their way up rivers and creeks for hundreds of miles making their way up to the fresh water lakes and ponds of Europe and North America. Sometimes arriving in waters up to 8000 feet above sea level. Here they live for over eight years until they mature and reach a length of up to 5 feet long. When the fullness of time comes, the eels stop eating, their skin turns from black to bright silver, and they begin their pilgrimage back to the sea. Down the rivers and creeks. When the water is too shallow, thousands of eels have been seen slithering through dew drenched grasses under the pale moonlight. Eventually, finding the salt water, these silver eels navigate their way to the Sargasso Sea in the north Atlantic where they swim down to the dark cold depths of the deepest waters. Here they find a mate, lay their eggs, and eventually die. And this is but one of the endless extravagant stories describing a mind boggling life cycles of an earthbound creature. What does it mean for us human creatures to be given a soul that cries out with a god-given instinct to begin our pilgrimage toword an eternal home? What type of insane and unreasonable slippery slope does our heart and soul embark upon inspite of our tired earthbound frames? It will be a process of change more bazaar and mysterious than the worm, the seed, or the sliver eel. We will leave others behind when our time comes. We will pass others moving the other direction, upstream, to the little lake that used to be our home, and they wont understant why we leave and why our appearance has noticably changed. We will pass others who have given up, doubting and forsaking the end to which they were destined. But we will keep moving, over water and over earth, by sun or pale moonlight, following the call that has been placed within us. The inner instinct that propels us. Dillard writes, "I didn't know, I never have known, what spirit it is that descends into my lungs and flaps near my heart like an eagle rising. I named it full-of-wonder, highest good, voices. I shut my eyes and saw a tree stump hurled by the wind, and enormous tree stump sailing sideways across my vision, with a wide circular brim of roots and soil like a tossed top hat....A little blood from the wrists and throat is the price I would willingly pay for the pressure of clacking weights on my shoulders, for the scent of deserts, groundfire in my ears-for being so in the clustering thick of things, rapt and enwrapped in the rising and falling of the real world." |
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July 4th, 05 For the last five years the Cornerstone festival has been an annual highlight puncuating each particular year in it's own unique way. This year was no exception. I remember the first year that I made the trek out to the festival with my friend Joey. My life had just recently been radically changed by the spirit, and it was a hard decision to miss that years three day Phish show at deercreek, all in order to make it to some unknown cornerstone. The previous year I had gone against my better judgement and confused conscience, betrayed myself actually, when I had yet again dropped acid and eaten mushrooms among other drugs at that years phish concert. Despite the inner emptiness experienced after such a strange trip, that world was the culture that I knew best, and it was difficult to choose something else to take it's place. By sovereign guidance I was led to cornerstone where I experienced a mighty dose of freedom in the spirit of God, and witnessed a truer love and brotherhood than I had encountered anywhere else. Being there that year strengthened my inner-conviction that the path of Jesus was the path that I was now called and destined to walk. Over the next few years I began to bring a little speaker and set up a sort of "side show" act in front of our Alliance World Coffees cafe tent. At night I would be sure to catch such acts as Brother Danielson, The Pslaters, Seeds, Soul Junk, Infradig, Madison Greene, Dirt, and Unwed Sailor among countless others. While truly enjoying the beauty and freedom of sound that these brothers and sisters were offering, a sound was continuing to build in me, and these musical mentors gave me a certain license to pursue it. Eventually Mike and Scott from Seeds took me under their wing in a way, and began calling me up on various stages to present the songs that I had been given. This has been a humbling and exciting process spanning several years of time. This past week I rolled over the vibrantly green and sun-saturated farmlands of Illinois on my way to the festival. Fittingly, listening to Sufjan Stevens newest release, "Come On Feel the Illinoise!", as I drove through Peoria and Pekin and Decator on my way to Bushnell. Over the past year or so his music has been a catalyst in bringing deep inspiration to my soul, and has added a certain meaning or soundtrack to my individual life (an individual life which I'm beginning to understand as more collected and timeless than I had once assumed). I arrived to the familiar dusty brown grass fields of the festival, and immediately made my way through the colorful striped tents to our little coffee stand in order to check in with my friends. That night we played down on the beach with the Psalters and Seeds as the sun was setting and casting pink light upon the water. It's a beautiful sight to see thousands dancing and singing and praising God on a summers evening. It was a good night indeed. After four or five days of camping with nearly fifteen thousand people, catching inspiring shows, inhaling a lungfulls of dust, happening upon random and meaningful conversations, and eating 2 a.m. funnel cakes with freinds, I'm now home. Or, at least I'm back to what is considered my base of operations for the time being. For, as my newfound nomadic gypsy brothers and sisters of The Psalters have soberingly reminded me, we are ALL refugees in this place. All searching for a home that is not to be found on this earth. I've moved from the tents of on the fields of Bushnell to the my tent here in Indianapolis, within the tent of my body, knowing one day I will leave all these tents behind and enter the temple of the Lord. Then I'll be home. home.....home. |
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June 25th, 05 News* Wednesday, June 29th I'll be playing at the Cornerstone Festival in Bushnell IL. My set will begin @ 8:30 p.m. down on the beach, followed by the Psalters and then the Seeds. The end of the night will conclude with a drum and dance worship session, which always proves to be the most powerful part of the night. Come one and come all. Shows and Songs* I've been booking very few shows for this summer because I'm in the midst of a kind of recording sabbatical. The new composition of songs are steadily under way and slowly shaping themselves under much labor, time, and love. I hope to be done by this fall. Family* This last week I was given the soul shaking pleasure of beholding and holding my newborn little nephew. My sister Gala and her husband Zack gave birth to a beautiful and serene little man named Ezra. Yet another innocent and fragile life enters the world, just as you and I once did. Lord be with the child. "Home is where one starts from. As we grow older The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated Of dead and living. Not the intense moment Isolated, with no before or after, But a lifetime burning in every moment And not the lifetime of one man only But of old stones that cannot be deciphered. There is a time for everything under starlight, A time for evening under lamplight (the evening with the photograph album). Love is most nearly itself When here and now cease to matter. Old men ought to be explorers Here or there does not matter. We must be still and still moving Into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petral porpoise, in the end is my beginning." *(T. S. Eliot "Four Quartetes") |
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June 18th, 05 Tomorrow I speak of the dark night of the soul. I will stand in front of many and speak, about a time, about the moment that is unspeakable. The time when we must be still, and maybe sweat blood and groan, letting a will that is not a will of our own fall upon us like a dark cloud of unknowing. For our will, our knowledge, does not know the way, and if it were not for the gracious and terrifying envelopement of all that we think we are; into the darkest night that ones soul may endure, we may continue to walk and talk as if we actually knew the way....or possibly as if we'de arrived? Which, is not in any assessment, a position of humility or wisdom. The moment that few can endure is that of silent solitude, an awful stillness, and the mournful process of waiting without hope. At least not a hope of any particular attainable end (or, this unforseeable end coming any time soon). Yet, in this painful state is when we learn to trust in something, behold someone who is greater, and we are changed into what we never knew by the One we had previously claimed to know (but really barely knew). And we will understand that we can save ourselves no longer, but must go the way of death in the dark of our night, in order to experience the light of the Lord in the morning; and avail on the wings of healing. T.S. Eliot writes in his epic poem "Four Quartets" I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God. As in a theatre, The lights are extinguished, for the scene is changed With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness, And we know that the hills and trees, the distant panorama And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away- Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations and the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to talk about; Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing- I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would hope for the the wrong thing; wait without love For love would be love of the wrong thing; Yet there is faith But the faith and the hope and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. |
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June 6th, 05 Freedom Some months ago I met this old man, the day after good friday actually, while I was visiting the community of friends up at J.P.U.S.A.. I believe the mans name was Randy, and he was contently sweeping the floor after the nights festivities....which composed of much music and wild eyed children running out of control with cotton candy stains around their mouths. Tired and feeling a bit aimless in the midst of such a massive intentional community, I sat down to watch everyone whiz by and chatter. The old man approached me with his broom and we made friendly talk. Our conversation evolved and expanded, and I learned that he was a catholic priest, that he spends a third of any given year writing and meditating in the solitude of Anchorage Alaska, another third is spent up in Minnesotta somewhere working as a couselor and minister on a university campus, and finally, the last third is spent just being part of this downtown community in Chicago. Sweeping and doing what needs to be done for the good of the whole. Eventually our dialogue was conlcluding and the time had come to part ways, for he was scheduled to fly up north that very night. But before he left he scrawled the name of a book on little piece of paper, and told me this little prophetic piece of sobering literature would be worth my attention. I held onto that note, and eventually put it to use. Just last week I received a package in the mail containing this small book, published and pressed in 1956, and now out of print. "The Devils Share": An Essay on the Diobolic in Modern Society, by Denis De Rougemont. While traveling this past weekend I devoured the book in a matter of a few days. The author does an excellent job of unmasking the evil one (yes there is a personality of evil: the devil) in the various arenas of our modern world. The evil that exhists within politics, economy, relationships, art, and most importantly within everyone one of us. We must come to terms with this personal darkness or be in danger of being the instigators of the most heinous of self-righteous evil acts. Here are some excerpts for you to chew on my friends. They involve the topic of true freedom: "Man is free, and this means that he is placed at each moment in a double possibility: that of doing the good which God wishes, which will free him; or that of doing the good he himself wishes according to his desires, and by which he finds himself chained. Be free"for nothing", without conditions or aim, be free to do what you please, and you will probably do what pleases the devil. But be free to find and accomplish the vocation which God gives you, and you will then escape the mechanical cycle into which your birth, and your race, your faults and reigning opinion have thrown you. "Liberty is not a right, but a risk to be run at every moment-on the political plane as well as in the spirit. Being what it is, not only would it be foolish to claim it, but it is in its nature to vanish as soon as it is used, whether in the direction of good or evil, only to be immediately reborn with a new risk." "There is true order only in freedom. There is freedom only among men and women who realize their vocation and who follow it. And the free man is the only one who respects the freedom on his fellows. All this holds together. The sense of ones neighbor, responsibility and liberty are things intimately linked; they engender one another mutually and can not long subsist without one another." Those who have not yet understood that freedom equals responsibility have no right to demand a liberty from which they would be unable to to derive any benefit (they wouldn't know how to use it)- if by some impossible chance they were given it - they would fear it more than desire it if they knew it's conditions." Are you ready for freedom? -- Josh |
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June 4th, 05 Do you dream? And when you do, do they pierce your mind and soul with a question and an answer that haunt you and encourage you even in your waking hours? I suppose this isn't "news", but my question on this saturday night in the summer is.....what do I do with my dreams? and what do you do with yours? I'm speaking of those pictures, stories, and signs that appear to us when we turn out the lights and spend 4,6,8,10 hours at a time unconcious, seemingly vulnerable, and withdrawn from the anxiety,noise, and reality of the external world. Those unearthly snapshots that some call merely and subconcious wind-down or an uncontrolable imagining of the brain reliving the days events (for everything has a reasonable explanation....right?) Yet, many believe these mysterious inner encounters of the night to be a sort of bridge to the unseen, a communication with something other, be it God, or demon, or I suppose sometimes an extention of self. The dream is a place in which our gaurd of conciousness and practical reason are shut down, therefore allowing us to interact with the the spiritual realm unhindered. Many roll their eyes at this thought, and many of these eye rollers don't believe that there is a spiritual exhistance to take into account even in their waking hours. If you don't see the spirits exhistance in your waking day, are you to be a believer in your sleep-filled night? Some years ago I was reading the scriptures and I came across Joseph the son of Jacob in the old testament and Joseph husband of Mary in the new testament, and found that both were spoken to, and given guidance, by means of supernatural dreams. Prophetic dreams (those which give a glimpse of future events......now, can that have a natural explanation?). These men placed a trust and a weight on the message of these dreams that we do not do so in mass in our modern times. So I prayed, "Father, grant me dreams of your will and your kingdom and your truth", and then in time I forgot about this request and continued living life. and then in time the dreams came. Some were frightening encounters with darkness and fear, some of them I think ment absolutely nothing, and some, well some that left my soul thinking, pondering, and asking questions within and to those who would listen. What does one do when a dream comes to pass? Especially afterward, when new ones are given. This has been the case for me. Unexpected, and I'm left with many question marks, and also with a vague sense of sovereign fate. But also with information that may affect how I make my decisions in the future, like a Joseph. This is strange.....this is faith. I understand that many will not take this seriously, but this is the reality of the seen and unseen of our lives. Do you dream? What do your dreams mean to you.....to others? I have to ask... |
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May 5th, 05 Sometimes so much seems to be happening all at once. possibilities, potential, commitments, responsibility, and regretfully, only so much time. This is a universal tension often leading to a filled fluster of busyness without fulfillment or even a sense of purpose. This frightening lack of being grounded in something more substantial than merely mananging just enough to stay afloat, or living life in the state of constantly reacting to the ceaseless onslaught of uncontrollable variables. We let our time and energies become governed by so many externals, not to mention our own inner rulebook of personal expectations and "obligations". Because after all, if we don't do it, who will? We must keep control of all that which comes our direction. Really? It's when I reach this point that I often meltdown, stay in bed, and fantasize about totally disengaging from the world of demands and pressure. I want to give up. And then something magnificent happens. I sit still. I allow my mind and heart to wander and wonder higher and farther than the "to do" list would ever allow. Life with a capital "L" somehow regains and retruns to a realistic and even simplistic perspective in my soul. The burden is set down, and I realize those things causing me so much anxiety are in actuality quite trivial. And, that I've allowed these trivialities to eclipse the most important elements of the human spirit and life giving relationships, pushing them out of my mind and outside of real time. Those noble aspects of life, which will be the most meaningful things that we reflect upon in remembrance and regret when our book closes on the death bed. A liberating thought; We can reflect and return today, re-center, sit still and pray, and begin to really listen to the real story of our lives. Q - "If somebody came to you and asked, how do I find God, how would you reply?" Frederick Buechner replies, "Pay attention! Listen to your life. Pay attention to what happens to you. What brings tears to your eyes? What would you be willing to die for, or who? It's not so much, should I read this or attend there, but keeping your eyes and your ears open." Buechner writes in "Then and Now": "If I were called to state in a few words the essence of everything I was trying to say, both as a preacher and a novelist, it would be something like this: Listen to your life. See it, for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and the pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness, touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it. Because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." --Josh |
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April 21st, 05 Walking through the sun saturated streets of the city yesterday I was gripped by a thought that may or may not be simplistic or profound. Nonetheless I've been turning it over in my heart and letting it change the way I think, live, and choose. It is this: There are three things that man so completely underestimates and does so on such a regular basis, that he is more often than not robbed of real life while he yet walks the world. To start, we each grossly underestimate the power and skill of the enemy our souls, that tempter of mankind, the one who seduces us into deaths embrace in hopes of raping and destroying our humanness and god-given identity. He is real, a roaring lion seeking whom he may consume, and amazingly most of our society is fooled into thinking that these forces of darkness do not even exist. This is folly. Pretending a loaded gun is only a playtoy does not make it make it harmless but increasingly dangerous. Secondly, we underestimate the power and responsibility of personal decision. This is a heavy gift and authority bestowed upon us by our creator. Potentially life giving, but all too often used for selfishness and destruction and pleasure at the expense of others. The epic battle between heaven and hell is focused on the human heart. Which side will he serve, death or life, self or the love of others? The mistake is to think that we can disengage ourselves from this tension, to remain neutral when the eternal state of mankind is at hand. In the words of Bob Dylan, "You've gotta serve somebody." There is power in the daily decisions of what we say "No" to and walk away from, and connversely, in what we say "Yes" to, and embrace with an amen. We fear this kind of commitment, and attempt to run away or play ignorent. That's not an option. Lastly, and most importantly, the underestimation that is most frightening and unfounded is that of the power and glory of the living God. That when we choose him in our faltering and imperfect moments, we choose the one who knows beginning from the end. Indeed, the one who is the good lover of our souls and who has authority over all heaven and earth and hell. We underestimate his love, his incredibly fierce power, and more often than not his very existance. We discount what he has revealed to us and close our eyes and hearts to the ongoing story of the redemption of man. We underestimate Jesus. The culmination of adding these three together: The enemy of our souls, the choice given to man, and the all-powerful authority of the Lord almighty, should create a shockwave through our souls. A wake up call to really experiencing life, and to discern the variables at play in our current circumstances. Both seen and unseen. To underestimate all three of these at once (which I feel I do most mornings when I wake up), is to live in a sort of fuzz, a perpetual motion without meaning or forseeable end. To live like the old country road church sign warned me against, "A mindless rut is just a grave without an end." Let eternity invade this moment, and follow the light that is given. *Behold small one the uncontained and uprofained mystery so vast the imperfect is what I make and imagine He rests within and beyond these pages and prayers faltering voices rejoice upon you and before me Deity does not depend or decay or lie under deaths embrace because life is out of control and truly terrifying is the love O Great One. ---josh garrels |
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April 13th, 05 Lament. In just a matter of weeks my favorite neighborhood cafe, Vecinos, will be shutting its doors to the quality coffee starved public. Many a morning I've woken up and thrown on some jeans and cap to cover bedhead, and walked through rain, snow, and sun to get my morning coffee from this little local spot. Goodbye my faithful morning friend, you were always there for me, I've got to find someone else now. My cafe has a "community computer" with internet access that I'm taking advantage of at the moment. My laptop keeps crashing on me, forcing me to use cafes and libraries and generous friends in order to enter the webworld. Webworld. It's a strange thing man. On one hand, it's a phenomenal tool for communication, and honestly makes it possible for many musicians such as myself to actually earn a living doing what we love. Independently without manipulation from a label or corporation. This was unheard of just a few years ago. Yet, there are some cons with these pros, some tares with this hybrid wheat. I've had to realize firsthand that the internet realm has a nasty tendancy of crossing the line in our lives from helpful tool to that of time wasting bondage. The virtual world begins to invade upon the time and energy we should be spending with the living, breathing, feeling, organic world around us. Subtley, we become a little out of touch, and don't have time or interest in the slow and meaningful face to face conversation with God and fellow man. frightening. To reiterate, I'm wholly thankful for this tool, this form, this means to an end, but I'm recognizing the discipline that is needed to wield it with skill and not be controled by it. Such is life, aye. Ironically, last week the day that my highspeed home internet crashed, ended up being the same day that I decided to finally begin recording the new songs for the next album. Work that I've been putting off for some months now. Even though it's some of my favorite work in the world? Interesting hmmm. *In other news: I've been put on the bill for this years Cornerstone Festival. I'll be playing on the beach the same night as the SEEDS and the Pslaters. Then we'll all be getting up at the end of the night for a rawkus and meaningful set of group worship. Should be a trip. Over the past few years various musician friends of mine have told me of the benefits of setting up a "my space" account as another means of getting the music "out there" to new ears. Just recently I took them up on the advice. If you're interested in checking it out you can go to this HTML: www.myspace.com There's some new photos. Some MP3's, including the audio file of Childrens Song from the Seven Stars DVD. And it can function as an online forum to talk amongst yourselves. If you're interested.... Whew.. for now. I'm going outside to breath the springtime air and be awed by the earth that is awakening from it's winter slumber. it's a miracle. --josh |
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April 6th, 05 The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of traveling, playing music, making new friends, visiting old ones, skateboarding, study, and sharing meals and conversation with friends during my moments of rest. All in all quite fullfilling, but I feel like I've got an overwhelming heap of thanks and shout-outs accumulated in my soul that I need to make public. First off, a week and a half ago I spent the weekend with the folks at J.P.U.S.A up in Chicago. They're an intentional community of brothers and sisters sharing the love of God downtown. Their good friday meeting was an amazing and meaningful experience. Transforming an old warehouse into a retro-cathedral with art, candles, and the haunting sounds of busker-kibutznik. It ended with the 12 stations od the cross, communion, and placing our individual pieces of linen upon a 15 foot high sculpted representation of the dead christ on a rock slab. It was an altogether darkly heavy worship experience. Entering the death of our Lord. Thanks Scott Knies for the soft couch on which to lay my head, and Mike Troxel for inviting me to take part in your communities celebration. This last weekend I boarded the plane here in Indy, and took to the skies enrout for Newport News Virginia. I've been building friendships with some east coast brothers, and this was another chance to connect and play a show. I flew in a couple days early in hopes of hitting Virginia Beach and continuing to learn how to surf, but, to no avail. It was rainy, and the water is still ice cold this time of year. Yet, I had an excellent time hanging out, and was able to ride a local cement skatepark. Thanks to all the longboard cement surfers who took me out (Nealer for the the sick photos, and the sick power slides). Thanks James Hardy for the hookup, for the couch, and for making me feel so welcome there. Thanks to the folks from Hatteras for driving up. Jason Andre for the new Didjeridoo and for being a solid brother. Thanks Matt Scheir for the cd's, the understanding, and the support you've shown. And, to everyone who made me feel at home and welcome in Newport News. For real. I hope to come back. Now, I'm back in Indy, sitting in my apartment and getting ready to have a community dinner tonight with my ever-expanding family of faith that is taking root here in the city. From the travels abroad back to my local home, each important and complimenting the other. It's good to sleep in my own bed and take a break from couches and duffel bags. for sure.... --josh |
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March 25th, 05 +Outside my warm and softly lit underground room there's a cold and overcasting rainy friday taking its course. Amidst my life of health and joy I allow my soul to enter into the shadow of death today. To recount what has been lost, and allow the flame of hope to be distinguished. Friends and loved ones die, but what if on this day our very creator and source of life was murdered before our eyes. faith and hope would be vanquished, and the truest love would be lost. Rest my soul in the shadow that is reserved for you. Gather around, and hear the sound of a story that so old that it's been told before time. Shadowland and desert sand a man searches for a love that will never die. Wake me up before you go I will listen for the sound of your voice. Hear the wind in the trees it goes where it please, like the breath within me. When we lay the body down, in the earth and in the ground. Oh child, rest your soul Will a hope be made good, when a word is understood. In the day, will we see it again..... -- josh "Something strange is happening on earth today, a great silence, and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from the sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. the Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that won him the victory. At the sight of him Adam, the first man created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: "My Lord be with you all." Christ answered him: "And with your spirit." He took him by the hand and raised him up saying: "Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light." -The Liturgy of the Hours |
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March 17th, 05 Here's some thoughts to internalize: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our dark that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, talented and famous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world." -- Nelson Mandela *"I have done many things in my life that conflicted with the great aims I had set myself -- and something has alsways set me on the true path again." -- Alexander Solzhenitsyn *Poet A.R. Ammons was asked, "Is poetry subversive?" He responded, "Yes, you have no idea how subversive -- deeply subversive. Consciousness often reaches a deeply intense level at the edges of things, questioning and undermining accepted ways of doing things. The audience resists change to the last moment, and then is grateful for it." "But professions and crafts are different. In these we have an obligation beyond pleasing someboody; we are pursuing or shaping the very nature of reality, convinced that when we carry out our commitments, we benefit people at a far deeper level than if we simply did what they asked of us." -- Eugene Peterson "Surely all art is the result of having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, to where no one can go any farther" -- Rainer Maria Rilke |
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March 3rd, 05 Fighting minor sickness and fatigue this week I've been able to sit back and read more than time usually allows. Winter gave us here in the midwest one last dying breath of cold air and snow, making indoors and tea and books feel especially cozy. I'm on the mends, and so too will the earth soon be. Sprouts of green and golden warmth await. Two of my favorite characters of all time are found in Dostoevsky's epic The Brother Karamazov (one of the few books I've had to read twice!). The wise old monk Father Zossima and his kind hearted disciple Alyosha give the reader a deep breath of love and the spirit amidst a heavy plot of murder, adultery, suffering, and guilt. In this story grace overcomes the darkest of human failings. Dostoesvsky himself, that old russian author of the novel, spent many years in a death camp in Siberia, had a destructive gambling habit, and was a failure of a husband to several commited wives. He lived hard, experienced much failure and suffering, but also found the key to unlock redemption, even in his battered and torn life. The grace of Christ. And it is this beauty in the ashes that he bleeds into the characters within his novels. As Father Zossima is on the verge of death, he spends his last waking moments showering Alyosha with words of wisdom. Lessons from a long life lived under the weight of a beautiful and frightening world, enduring all with anchor for the soul. Dostoevsky died two months after completing this last novel, so these words are a swansong of his parting voice also: "Many things on earth are hidden from us, but in return for that we have been given a mysterious inward sense of our living bond with the other world, with the higher, heavenly world and the roots of our thoughts and feelings are not here but in other worlds. That is why philosephers say it is impossible to comprehend the essentil nature of things on earth. God took seeds from other worlds and sowed them on this earth and made his garden grow, and everything that could come up came up, but whatever grows is alive and lives only through the feeling of its contact with the other mysterious worlds: if that feeling grows weak or is destroyed in you then what has grown up in you will also die. Then you will become indifferent to life and even grow to hate it." May the eternal roots of Gods seed burrow down deep within your soul. The grace of his love will overcome all failure and death. It's ours to accept and believe. --josh |
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February 23rd, 05 This Saturday night (february the 26th) I'll be playing a show @ the Muncie Alliance in Muncie Indiana. A couple reasons this show may be noteworthy to attend: I've been working on some new songs since my move to Indianapolis and I'm choosing to introduce these songs this night, I'll also be bringing my buddies from the Lions up for a set of music with the "full band" feel. We've been woking on some new songs together. Lastly, Chris Braman (brother recorded the live set for Underquiet) will be recording the nights set in full. there'll be coffee and smiles and whatnot also. Other bands to appear will be Spoonfull (old blues), Waking Lazarus (heavy electric), and then I'll be ending the night out. All proceeds are going to world missions. If you live far out of state (my peoples on the coasts....hold it down) check the website in a few weeks for some free downloads of the nights music. I look forward to seeing some of you there, my friends. Until then...... -- Josh |
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February 21st, 05 What is it about those unexpected, transcendent moments in time, that leave us reeling for days, for years, for eternity. A word spoken at the right time cotaining power, a new relationship formed by a seemingly chance encounter, a sunset so spectacular that it shakes the soul, or even a kind voice beckoning from an abandoned alley, "Come here child, if your willing, I've something to show you." Our days are riddled with these intrusions from some "other" pattern of meaning and reality, sweeping over us like breath for the soul, to keep us hoping and searching for more. More of what? So mysterious, that particular moment when it all made sense, that "it" can find us, and we can find it, and then it whisps away like a vapor in the wind of time. There's something contained in those moments, a voice, and if you decide to listen closely, and even to follow, He will lead you to a world without end. The Welsh poet R.S. Thomas writes of this invasion of eternal meaning and cost, held within a fleeting moment of time. his poem "The Bright Field" I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had the treasure in it. I realise now that I must give all that I have to posses it. Life is not hurrying on to a receding future, nor hankering after an imagined past. It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush, to a brightness that seemed as transitory as your youth once, but is the eternity that awaits you. |
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February 16th, 05 *Birth* Having a sister who is now pregnant, I've again become amazed at the mysterious miracle of a little life that is carried within the womb, and then is introduced to the world in a rush of pain and glory. This will be the first child of the "next generation" to be brought into our family, and although we're all dispersed geographically, excitement is mounting. Yet, there's another mystery involved in the birthing process that I've been considering, and has been rolling over in my soul for some time. What does it mean to be born of the spirit? Old Paul writes to the Romans of two thousand years past, and says, "For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God...For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only creation, but we ourselves, who have the Spirit". I can't help but draw parallels of truth as I think of natural childbirth and the birth of the Spirit. Imagine the child in her mothers womb. Although the mother is not a "God" she could be viewed as the "creator" of that child. She nurtures the created life within herself through direct connection of umbilacle chord, and cares for herself in order to care for the child within. As the baby grows in the womb, it gains conciousness, and the world it knows is a small, dark, warm space. It breaths the amniotic fluid and is fed without having to ask, and has, possibly, some vague suspicion that there is something "outside" of this little world she's grown accustomed to. Eventually there comes the moment when the babes world is shaken, and in convulsive contractions it is pushed into a realm that is utterly foreign......but a place that she was made to live within. Very similarly, we read in scripture that for those born of the spirit, He is in us, and we are in Him. We learn of a mystical but real connection between our creator, and us, his created children. He feeds us direclty, nurturing us and helping us to grow like little germinated seedlings. What's more we grow increasingly aware that there is something beyond "this world" which used to seem so much like home. We hear murmurs from the heavenlies as the baby in the womb hears her mother humming lullabies. We have a internal hope, and a real dream, that we were made for something much different than this place of chronological time, death and decay, and relative darkness. Indeed, as the body of the Lord grows there will be a time when the world will shake with those convulsive contractions, and Gods children will enter "eternal life". Now imagine that baby, as it exits the womb towards a light that shines ahead. A light so illuminating this child has never experienced. It enters the new world. She stretches out her little arms and legs in a quivering realization of freedom. The amniotic fluid is expulsed from her lungs and she breaths "air". Her eyes fully open and she witnesses a thousand points of color and light that replace the dark she once dwelled in. The chord is cut, and she rests in her mothers arms, rather than being hidden within, and she looks up for the first time and sees her creators eyes. Face to face. Shockingly beautiful and with a certain fearful wonder. The creator says, "No eye has seen or ear heard what I have prepared for those who love me". I think when we enter "that place" the transition will be as shocking, actually infinitely more so, when compared to the child entering this world. When we enter the place in which we were created to live, forever, and when we see Him. Face to face. --Josh |
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February 10th, 05 Living downtown in the city. There's so many woderful aspects involved in the creation of life in Indianapolis. Yet, the one aspect of life I miss more than any other is having easily accessable nature in which to find solitude. There's a different kind of interaction between man and his creator when living breathing nature is infused into the dialogue. One day I may start walking into the wooded hills and never return. Until then I have some contemplative authors to keep me company on days when I feel locked within streets and walls and noise. Thomas Merton reminds me of the value of a life really being "lived" in any given location, when he writes: "Either you look at the universe as a very poor creature out of which no one can make anything or you look at your own life and your own part in the universe as infinitely rich, full of inexhaustable interest, opening out into even further possibilities for study and contemplation and interest and praise. Beyond all and in all is God. Perhaps the the book of life, in the end, is the book of what one has lived and if one has lived nothing, he is not in the book of life. And I always wanted to write about everything. That does not mean to write a book that covers everything--which would be impossible. But a book in which everything can go. A book with a little bit of everything that creates itself out of everything. That has it's own life. A faithful book. I now longer look at it as a "book". |
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February 7th, 05 I met a man from South Africa last week, and my soul instantly began to burn within me as we engaged in a conversation marked with passion and zeal. I asked him if he'd seen the movie "Amandla", which is a documentary focusing on the role of music as a revolutionary weapon in overcoming the racial and economic system of apartheid in South Africa. He said he had not seen the movie, but was there to witness the masses of native africans marching down the streets chanting their warlike freedom anthems. Their songs created a soundtrack for their struggle, which was woven into their very souls, and a vital part of the fabric of their culture. These songs carried a weight with them, a reality that goes far beyond mere entertainment. Entertainnment.....our culture ( commercial north america). Music and art has become predominantly a form of mere comforting pleasure, something to tickle the ears, fill the space, something to over-intellectualize us, or sedate us, but by and large.....entertainment. Maybe it's that we don't feel we're confronted by oppression, wickedness, or a struggle that we just continue to pump out products to fuel us, and keep the happy boat of contentment moving in slow circles along this lazy river ride. We lay on our individual floatation devices and shout with glee as we move under yet another man made waterfall, going around in circles, again, and eventually getting tired of this sad and entirely safe man made verison of reality. It's time to jump the fence and experience the oceans, and the mighty river torrents, and they might take your life. In days of old the good king Jehosaphat sent his army out against an approaching enemy. Rather than placing his military soldiers on the front line, he sent out a troop musicians, brandishing tamberines and drums, and raising their voices in praise of the living and almighty Lord most high. When they arrived upon the enemies ground they found that their foe had already been defeated. They had slain themselves in a moment of confusion and blinded spiritual stupor. Music was used to create shock waves that affected both heaven and earth. This potential potency of artistic creation must begin to be remembered and believed in by a generation and a culture of people who are entertaining themselves to death. Our struggle is real, the need for freedom is real, but the fact is, we don't fight against flesh and blood. -- josh |
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February 4th, 05 Kairos time vs. Chronological time: "Kairos. Real time. Gods time. That time which breaks through chronos with a shock of joy, that time we do not recognize while we are experiencing it, but only afterwards, because kairos has nothing to do with chronological time. In kairos we are completely unselfconcious, and yet paradoxically far more real than we can ever be when we are constantly checking our watches for chronological time. The saint in contemplation, lost (discovered) to self in the mind of God is in kairos. The artist at work is in kairos. The child at play, totally thrown outside himself in the game, be it building a sand castle or making a daisy chain, is in kairos. In kairos we become what we were called to be as human beings, co-creators with God, touching on the wonder of creation. This calling should not be limited to artists--or saints--but it is a fearful calling. Mana, taboo. It can destroy as well as bring into being" --Madeleine L'Engle "Walking on Water" the wisdom eternal from the heart to the mind to the hand to the journal the kernal of the seed is in the cleft of the rock and is watered by the winds having power to unlock and stop the clock of chronological logic with its homogenized systems that are dead and can't dodge it being deaf to the voice of the Almighty Yet, he illumines the dark like a fire revealing the ways that are hidden but are higher you must travel on the wings that will never grow tired of searching the mysteries of God. -- Josh |
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January 31st, 05 This goes out to all my brothers and sisters out there who have commited themselves to surfing, skateboarding, or snowboarding at some point in their lives. Here's an adaptation of an old parable I've been meditating on. Originally about a sower, seed, and differnt kinds of soil, now, I want to tell a story about those who take part in these cultures and the sessioning and commitnment that is involved. A parable should have a deeper meaning below the surface of an understandable story. Something to think on..... Those drawn to these sports are awed by the beauty and grace seen in the performance of those who are well trained, enamored by the culture and art that surrounds the sport, and they long for the independence of a sport that has no coach or organized teams. Yet all these lifestyle-sports have the common strand of a shared movement, and a common love that propels the group forward.....despite lack |