april 6, 10

i always find myself staring at you through an old rusted fence.

the sunrise highlights the curves of your hills which billow elegantly to the horizon, graciously dropping like a feather through the morning mist. your fervent green complexion is plush.

you are blemish free.

here, the hills have dried. the earth no longer has the ability to give and has cracked under the pressure, leaving it's soul exposed to the wind. the drought has brought famine. the famine has skewed reality.

the hope of you keeps me alive.

i long to pick flowers with you. to compare the beauty of spring sprung dandelions with your eyes only to conclude that it's like comparing the tan grass that blows in the fields to your skin; they are one in the same. your hair, like the leaves of fall, spirals downward toward your collar bone. i rake it back from time to time to kiss the fertile soil of your neck.

you taste like honey.

we speak of a day when the fence will be torn down and our lands can meet. time will struggle to stay at the pace of our to-dos:

we'll carve our names into our forests.

we'll draw hearts on our beaches.

the starry night will be our blanket and the universe's universe will cast new constellations.

we'll be married by the man in the moon!

but for now, i really like the way you look through that old rusted fence.

jeebus, i love you.

well, here goes nothing.

yet another adventure, yet another month of around the globe. am i stoked?

OF COURSE!!!

but sometimes it's difficult to gear myself up for another month of traveling. i enjoy spending time with friends, working at my own pace, and just doing nothing. i'll miss my bike and the abnormally beautiful arizona spring. it's really kind of stupid how well the weather has behaved, and for that i am grateful.

here's another shot at communication through the digital rectum of our society*. blog you must. blog i will.

here's to hoping that it lasts this time.

*too offensive/explicit maybe? it's okay, i'll still love you.

Sacrifice

For Dan.

Greetings everyone.

I write to you from the sky above DenveAriNebrawho the hell knows where. I’m currently en route to Nashville from Los Angeles to start another tour for 3 weeks. The plane that I’m on only has 58 passengers so I decided to treat myself to an entire row. I threw my bag in the aisle seat and plopped down in the middle. My broad shoulders did the rest of the work while the occasional act of gagging flashed over my face to distract any curious onlookers. As the planes wheels so elegantly lifted to the sky I pulled a brown notebook from my bag that I frequently travel with. From time to time I write letters in this notebook that I never plan on sending. Just letters to myself, from myself, expressing my thoughts and emotions, asking questions, and remembering times that were happy, sad, or any combination of the two. Chances are these letters may have my favorite memories of you, things that you have said that have been encouraging or thoughts and dreams that we have shared together that have deeply resonated my inner being. On the first page of my notebook is a letter that I wrote around a year and a half ago about sacrifice and the role it plays in our life.

“My time on the road thus far has left me in deep contemplation of sacrifice and the role that it has in my life. Sacrifice has appeared to me in many forms; relationships at home have been sacrificed to further relationships on the road, cleanliness has been sacrificed so that the band can be on budget and on time, and I feel at times that life has been sacrificed for career advancement. The question that has frequently been crossing my mind is how much must one sacrifice of themselves before they sacrifice themselves entirely? To speak vaguely, when does too much of a good thing become a self-destructive bad thing?”

It’s interesting to think of these questions and think about the things that I’ve sacrificed for what I have. My career is advancing in so many different ways than I could have ever thought of. I feel very happy with where I am as a person and how comfortable I’ve become with myself. Although I do feel that my happiness is worth a large sum of sacrifice, I can’t help but question whether or not I’m sacrificing the right things for the right thing.

I feel that as of late I’ve made some very inappropriate sacrifices, which have left me distraught and unfocused on the things that matter most. “Through all of my thinking, I’ve developed quite a close relationship with the concept of sacrifice. I feel that love and sacrifice are two mutually reinforcing acts of grace and kindness. Ultimately, I’ve concluded that in order to give and receive love in the purest of manners, one must first sacrifice his/her greater goals for the greater goals of relationship.” These are words that still resonate with my soul and call me to refocus my sacrifices on things and those that matter most.

To those who are reading this, I miss you very dearly. I continually hope and pray that our love and sacrifice be mutually reinforcing to our relationship. May we continue to care for each other forever.

I love you. More than you will ever know.

*

March 31st, 2009

sometimes,

i can't help to think that

just as we look up to the night's sky

in admiration of god's beauty,

he looks down unto the night's streets

to be pleased with ours.

Easter on the road

Laying in a dark room while everyone is still sleeping listening to Miles Davis isn’t exactly the way that I remember spending Easter as a child. But to be fair, my memories of Easter don’t paint the most accurate portrait of the deep, emotive meaning that Easter has. As my emotions evolve, the candy becomes less and less abundant and my focus shifts to the physical and impetuous battle of Jesus Christ and God, the sacrifices that we can only imagine a fraction of, and what it means to live in a world that has been forgiven. Hell, the candy is cheaper a day after Easter anyways, right?!

My emotions are high this morning as I make my best attempt to remember who Jesus is and what He did for us. My heart is plagued with sorrow and joy; such ambivalence leads me to silence and prayer.

May our days be filled with peace, empathy, and a greater understanding of love. May we use His love to allow ourselves to be loved and to love others.

I love you. More than you could ever imagine.

Shane.

*

Oh how the road/the months I spent living with two of my greatest friends has taught me how to be humble and allow myself to be served.

As a person that has been taking care of myself for around 5.8472 years now, I find great difficulty in opening myself up to this act of humility. I have frequently turned down the help and continued to let my pride build into a vicious monster that is afraid of humility and vulnerability. This struggle has taught me that my need for love and affection is far greater than what a platonic relationship can provide. The need for community is far greater than a surface level friendship.

My stern pride continues to be met with the grace of hospitality.
It's far easier to give than to receive.

*

I love things that appear to embody a permanent facade but are, upon closer inspection, completely ephemeral. I think that's one of my favorite things about installation art. The piece goes up overnight, stays for as long as it can, and is then stripped away as quickly as it came. The thing is, to anyone whom is unfamiliar with the space an installation embodies, the art is a permanent fixture to our world. 

I need more of this perceptual permanence in our world. Where my unplanned, haphazard life can have a moment to reflect on what exists in and around my space.