For some reason, however, when I clicked the link for one podcast, the audio of another would play. So I'd be clicking Psalm 3 and get James 1 instead. Finally, I got to a point on Friday where I decided to let it go for the weekend and simply enjoy a day of rest. Much needed rest.
I think of my anger like a torrent of water from a firehose. If I'm not directing it where it should go, it's just flailing about damaging anyone and everyone nearby. Thus it becomes important that I'm rested so I'm strong enough to manage the firehose.
Last night with Mickey, Mireya, Tanja, Brianna, Cecilia, Amanda and 20,000 other close friends, I watched Barry Manilow in concert at the Hollywood Bowl. Tanja commented on how unashamedly his music speaks of love and tenderness in a culture where we layer cynicism over even our most beautiful expressions.
I am now a Barry Manilow fan, also known as a 'Fanilow'--a moniker we coined in the car on the way home. Yes, these are my friends, and yes, I go out in public with them. We even danced together for Copa Cabana. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, dancing Adventists.
First thing this morning I got back to work on the podcast. There are already about 12 podcasts recorded--they're just not online because they were linking to the wrong audio somehow.
Google searched 'how to add audio clip to a blog' and came up with the necessary information in a post from Rose DesRochers.
So now I know how to do that, thank you Rose. I'll go back through the last few blogs and embed the audio for the podcast into the blog for that date. A couple extra steps but more convenient for your listening.
Also worked with Daniel Estay for a couple hours this afternoon, in preparation for a 4-song set at Pearce College in Woodland Hills. He played me one of his originals, Delilah's Song. Great tune, inspired by thought of how deeply we are impacted through our relational choices with the opposite sex, sometimes to our downfall.
We talked a bit about how as musicians we tend sometimes to not move our music along unless we are collaborating with someone else. Music is like a jigsaw puzzle to which I'm given some pieces, but not all, so that I am forced to be in relationship in order to bring the music to fullest expression. I have to learn to lead, learn to follow, to listen, to be heard. When to stand and where, and for what. When to submit.
I was planning on seeing Melinda in concert this afternoon, but I just got off a welcome one-hour phone call with one of my most beloved mentors. I haven't spoken with her in over a year.
Our conversation surfaced the interesting phenomenon that about every 3 weeks the illusion of my anger comes to visit me. She says it's not mine to own. And yes, she asked the inevitable question: why?
Why do I need the anger? How does it serve me? What do I think I can't do without it? What will I forget to be or to do if I let it go?
She observed how often I'm using the word community to articulate my hazy impressions of the road ahead. It's because I cannot accomplish alone what I'm being shown.
I can't help noticing how good is God to bring her back into our conversation after no contact for such a long time, at this moment when the anger is on my desktop, and I'm ready to address it, rather than postpone for another time.
If it's not my anger, whose is it, and what's it doing in my heartspace?
Her questions often stump me, so there's nothing new about my fumbling. I think I'll take a couple days to sit with this batch. Pray and listen a while, see what comes through the line.
I knew there would be giants. Only some of them are external.
Pick A Chapter--Psalm 3
Goodnight, Beautiful...
Goodnight, Strender
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