Gratitude ~ Jethro Tull

Greetings Dear Reader,

I am grateful for music in general.  It helps me feel things that I avoid feeling.  It is solace in times of woe.  It can punctuate my celebrations with exclamation beyond my skills.

Since I was nine a man and a band have been my favorite.  It helps that the man is the leader of the band.  I speak of the band Jethro Tull and the man Ian Anderson.  His music danced into my life just as my Grandfather heeded the call of the piper to that undiscovered country.  The music I first encountered was from the album Aqualung.  It is a fine place to start if you are seeking to acquaint yourself with this very fine music.

One of the things for which I am grateful is the depth of this music.  Fifty years later I still find new thoughts and new questions as I listen to the various albums.  When I was nine I was already reacting to the pains in my life by asking hard questions.  With my Grandfather gone no one seemed inclined to listen or give me real answers.  Songs like Hymn 43 and Wind Up posed and answered some of them.

The later albums tilled the soil of my mind for the vital encounter that would come five years down the road.  The music of Tull also required me to keep thinking instead of choosing and closing my mind.  As the years slipped through the glass the band and the man continue to challenge me to think.  The music remains complex and the lyrics require one to pay attention.  One does not passively listen to Tull.

The band is still together.  They will be in my state this summer.  I do not think a day passes where a Tull song does not dance through my thoughts.  I am most grateful for the lessons they teach me about God.  He is not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.  What music reaches you Dear Reader?

Wind Up  – Ian Anderson

When I was young and they packed me off to school

And taught me how not to play the game,

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

Or if they said that I was just a fool.

So I left there in the morning

With their God tucked underneath my arm

Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.

So I asked this God a question

And by way of firm reply,

He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):

Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --

I don't believe you:

You had the whole damn thing all wrong

He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school

And have all the bishops harmonize these lines

How do you dare tell me that I'm my father's son,

When that was just an accident of birth.

I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song

'Cause that's the honest measure of my worth.

In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,

As you lick the boots of death born out of fear.

When I was young and they packed me off to school

And taught me how not to play the game,

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

Or if they said that I was just a fool.

So I left there in the morning

With their God under my arm

Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.

Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school

And have all the bishops harmonize these lines --

When I was young and they packed me off to school

And taught me how not to play the game,

I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,

Or if they said that I was just a fool.

So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):

Before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers –

Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school

And have all the bishops harmonize these lines --

I don't believe you:

You had the whole damn thing all wrong --

He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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Music that Moves Me – Opening Thoughts

Greetings Dear Reader,

As most of the world turns to raking leaves and pumpkin spiced obsessions I am already focused on the paving stones that lead to Advent.  The preparation for All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day mean more to me than Jack-O-Lanterns and Starbucks confections.

To forestall irritating my loved ones I will hold off a bit on reveling in those things here and instead talk about something we all share.  My children and I all love music.  Music soothes, stills, and reminds me.  It calls me to see things more clearly and be what I am supposed to be in every circumstance.

I actually have songs pop into my head as a backdrop to what is going on in my life.  What the DJ in my head chooses often makes things clearer but sometimes she makes things worse. (I know it is a she because there are sometimes voice overs and intros along with the music. {Things such as “And to help you through that dental visit here is the Secret Language of Birds by Ian Anderson.  Fly away on those meds but don’t try to talk to the birds in front of the dentist.})

I view music as one of my best gifts from God.  I can carry a tune and play a couple of instruments.   The notes and words ferret out what is hurting and force me to face.  They can define the core of my joy in good times.  The soundtrack of my life often tells me how I am feeling before I would have figured it out on my own.

I have music that I have with me all the time.  I am going to walk through some of that so that I can honestly assess where it belongs in my journey.  I will share some of my music and discuss how it helps me.  Feel free to interact.  As I always I value your comments Dear Reader.

The Secret Language of Birds – Ian Anderson

This sparkling wine is all but empty

Too late for trains and no taxis

I know the feeling, seems all too contrived

There was no master plan but the fact is

You must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

A tentative dawn about to be breaking

On a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding

And the truth of the matter, yet to be spoken

In words on which everything, everything's riding

Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Circled by swallows in a world for the weary

Courted by warblers, wicked and eloquent trilling

Lie in the stillness, window cracked open

Extended moments, hours for the taking

Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brush stroke

Painted verse with a chorus, the chorus in waiting

Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Yeah, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Now, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Yeah, stay with me and learn the secret language of birds

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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Already and the not yet – Working for the Weekend

Greetings Dear Reader,

I am always amazed at the number of social posts complaining about Monday.   My Daughter put up at least two yesterday.  We dread Monday and live for the weekends.  We sacrifice the potential joy of the already trying to get to the not yet.

If Monday were not a day of work we would hate Tuesday.  If we worked four days a week instead of three (I have done this.), we would still not like it.  Our fallen nature is opposed to work. 

I think that part of this comes from working in jobs we hate but feel we have no option.   I know people who love the work they and Monday is just another day to live out their dreams.  It is a day that the Lord has made and we should rejoice and be glad in it.

If I live for the weekend then I am not living in the already.  If I embrace each day as a day to encourage another soul, love the world and the Father, and follow Christ as closely as possible.  I must live a life that reflects Christ in every day.  I must pursue him and not a future time where I think I will be happier.

If I live in each moment; in the already for Christ then I can forge a continually improving not yet.  That is what matters. Focus on living for Christ in the moment yields a not yet that is filled with a multitude of moments that are Christ centered.  That is a Monday or any day worth living.  

A Week of Moments – Ian Anderson

A week of moments a clutch of days

Ten thousand minutes of a Passion Play.

Medley of quavers informs the tune.

Its all too much: over all too soon.

Sweet condensation on chilling wine

Travelers palm, flamboyant tree

Fast photos ripped and lost consign

A week of moments to faint memory.

A week of moments plucked from the page

Found far horizons, a sunset stage.

Suitcases bulge, in silence packed

A chapter closed: no looking back.

The lightest touch upon my arm

No fierce restraint, no call to stay.

Hushed room maids glide like pawns to king

With pool attendants in chess piece array.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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Home to House – Lost in Crowds

Greetings Dear Reader,

I attempt to be the same person in every venue.  I do not want the working world to see one person and the social world to see another.  I want to be genuine.  I also need to be respectful of those around me and not impose my difficulties on them.

Because I wish to be both honest and considerate I find that I am stymied at times.  I do not desire to burden others with how I feel at times.  I also do not wish to engage in the perfunctory “how are you” exchange that is the common American greeting. 

Due to this I often find that I do not engage in genuine talk about how I am at all.  Again there is a hard deck here.  On the universal scale I am just fine as frog’s hair.   God has promised this and that is enough for me.  In the current events, however, I am not fine. 

So the harried part of my heart struggles with how to express itself.   I do not want to abuse the small time I have with those who share time with me.  I need to find an outlet for the things I feel but none of the old venues are working.  So I have to simply maintain until a path is found.

For now I must look to others and be what I am meant to be to them.  There is always solace in being good to others.  There is forgetting in being kind.  There is joy in the journey even when walking in the rain.  Then again if nothing changes it may still serve the greater good.  After all, HE must increase and I must decrease.

Lost in Crowds – Ian Anderson

I get lost in crowds: if I can, I remain invisible

to the hungry mouths. I stay unapproachable.

I wear the landscape of the urban chameleon.

Scarred by attention. And quietly addicted to innocence.

At starry parties where, amongst the rich and the famous

I’m stuck for words: or worse, I blather with the best of them.

I see their eyes glaze and they look for the drinks tray.

Something in the drift of my conversation bothers them.

So, who am I? Come on: ask me, I dare you.

So, who am I? Come on: question me, if you care to.

And why not try to interrogate this apparition?

I melt away to get lost in this quaint condition.

In scary airports, in concourses over-filled,

I am detached in serious observation.

As a passenger, I become un-tethered when

I get lost in clouds: at home with my own quiet company.

Herald Tribune or USA Today. Sauvignon Blanc or oaky Chardonnay.

Asleep for the movie. Awake for the dawn

Dancing on England and hedgerows

Embossed on a carpet of green. I descend and

Forgive me I mean to get lost in crowds.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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Why I love Christmas – Friends and Family

Happy Christmas Dear Reader,

Today is a big day.  In just a few hours friends and family will begin arriving for our annual Christmas open house.  For eleven years save one we have hosted this event so that we get to see our friends during the Christmas season. 

I always take time the morning of this event to think about friends lost and distant.  I have lost friends along the journey that I remember and miss.  Some have reached the clearing at the end of the path ahead of me.  They are probably warning Jesus that I am coming and suggesting he reconsider the whole idea of letting me in.

Some I have lost due to anger, enmity, or un-forgiveness.  These losses haunt me and pray for the friends involved.  Some of the losses are my fault and that hurts me the most.  Eventually, however, all strife will be gone and I will have peace with these lost friends.  Until then I must become a better man so that I remain worthy of their friendship.

I will spend the morning prepping food.  I will rest for a shore bit and dress.  Then I will spend the day greeting and chatting people I know and love.  Every year I meet a few new people who are invited by one of my children or are a plus one to someone invited.  I have met some very good friends this way.

The house is decorated.  Some things already simmer on the stove.  For the moment I am focused on how blessed I am to have the friends that I have.  I am sure that most of them do not know how much I love and value them.  This is one of the ways I get to tell them.  Christmas allows me to show them a few hours of love and this is precious to me.

The family that will be here is precious as well.  I love them more than I can express and Christmas is a chance to show them that I see what they need and will try to give it to them.  This party is where that giving begins. 

Later this evening I will sit in my comfy chair like pigs in clover and ponder the day.  I will be tired and drowsy.  I will think about the people I saw and the people I did not.  I will ponder the friends who are too far away to be here but whom I miss dearly.  I will whisper a prayer of thanks for them all. Then I will follow that with a prayer for the day to arrive quickly when we can all be together to celebrate Christ and our friendship in him.   That is the day I try to catch a glimpse of each year with this celebration.   I long for it with all that I am.

Last Man at the Party – Ian Anderson (Jethro Tull)

Sister Bridget by the stair; a glass of wine and she's almost there.

Cousin Jimmy at the door; another beer and he's on the floor.

Friends and neighbours come around,

waste no time we're heaven-bound.

But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.

Stinky Joe from down the street fell right over his own three feet.

He's doubled up in the outside loo, to taste again the devil's brew.

Friends and neighbours come around,

waste no time we're heaven-bound.

But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.

So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy.

Get to it - and be in good cheer.

And when it's all over... pigs gone to clover -

Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year.

The house is jumping, suppers up. Curried goat in a paper cup.

Forks of plastic, knives of tin... who cares what state the goat is in.

Someone with the gift of song

has brought his pal to sing along.

Now they're turning up old Frank Sinatra on the stereo.

So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy.

Get to it - and be in good cheer.

And when it's all over... pigs gone to clover -

Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year?

Sister Bridget by the stair; a glass of wine and she's almost there.

Cousin Jimmy at the door; another beer and he's on the floor.

Friends and neighbours come around,

waste no time we're heaven-bound.

But not before we raise a glass to good camaraderie.

So make yourselves jolly under mistletoe, holly and ivy.

Get to it - and be in good cheer.

And when it's all over... pigs gone to clover -

Will the last man at the party wish me a happy New Year?

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store." 

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