Wanderlust

When I was young–let’s say four–I went for a walk around the neighborhood alone.  I walked around the block and across the street and saw some other kids playing outside, so I went into their backyard.  They had a swingset, something bright and plastic.  Lemonade made an appearance.  That’s all I remember, but I can recognize the house when I drive past it on Bretton.  It was one of those bigger houses, one of those that made me most curious to know what was inside.  I don’t remember going inside, but I vaguely remember a mother.

My mother flipped when I got home.  I was grounded for a week.  Not spanked, because when you have a toddler with wanderlust, spanking only delivers the message so far.   Being grounded is the only appropriate punishment for a toddler with wanderlust.

Old Songs

This week we’re looking at religious music.   This is one of the “hymns” I guess, that was in our packet to read, from Medieval England:

A God, and yet a man?

A mayde, and yet a mother?

Witt wonders what witt can

Conceave this or the other.

A God, and can he die?

A dead man, can he live?

What witt can well replie?

What reason reason give?

God, Truth it selfe doth teache it;

Mans witt sinkes too far under,

By reasons power to reach it–

Beleeve, and leave to wonder.

Gospel Blues

You might have heard me say before that my favorite genre of music is “gospel blues.”   In an essay I just read, I’ve figured out why.

In Stephen Citron’s “SONGWRITING: A Complete Guide to the Craft,” he describes the different forms of song.  He goes through pop, country, musical comedy, rock, spirituals, and then blues.  Here’s what he says about blues:

“While the spiritual expressed the belief in the Bible and the hereafter, the blues avoided religion and was concerned with the now.” (26)

What happens when we combine the two?  We get a Gospel that speaks to us now, that avoids religion, and gets at the core of humanity and its need for salvation.  When we combine the two we get this:

And this:

(Yes, that is a Tom Waits song.  Yes, that is the theme to the Wire.  Watch it! All five seasons! Netflix it! Now!)

And let’s not forget about this song:

And these guys–these guys are probably my favorite:

American Music

When I moved to Bangkok (and lived there for two years), I wasn’t too happy about being an American.   It was during the height of the Bush years, when my lack of health care and a steady income was giving me hell, when it just wasn’t cool to say you were from America in other parts of the world (Is it now? Who knows.)  Though I threw myself into the Thai culture, picking up on everything I could to put aside my national identity, I found that I craved American music.  It was the one thing I was proud of; one thing I felt we had done right.   Later I got to appreciating Thai music too (the country stuff is fantastic), but at first I only noticed the songs that were covered everywhere–The Eagles, Brittany Spears–the kind of stuff I wasn’t too excited about.  I listened to Wilco, Woody Guthrie, Lucinda Williams, Eric Bibb, John Lee Hooker, and later John Legend and Corinne Bailey Rae.  Friends sent me CDs.

I’m only writing all this because I’m in awe of the fact that I’m enrolled in a class called “The Rhetoric of Song.”  We’re assigned American roots collections every week and we read essays by the Lomax Brothers (Land Where the Blues Began guys…)  I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to take this class.  The songs we listened to this week are ballads, and the language is just incredible.

“I’ve been to the river to be baptized, now I’m at the burial ground.”

“I got so thin I could hide behind a straw.”

A man tells a woman, “You’ll rue the day for givin’ me the devil because I wouldn’t hoe m’corn.”

People are dying of heartbreak, literally, or getting so drunk they fall in love with cows.

Here’s one about some boys who throw their ball into a gypsy’s garden, with fatal results:

That one was adapted from an English ballad, a commentary about when all the gypsies were exiled, sometime in the 1200’s.  That’s at the core of American Music.  I know, because of this class.  Seriously, people.  It’s the stuff I’d read if I had more time and now I’m forced to read it.

Here’s one with a jugband:

Jugbands!  God bless America.

Spiritually Available

I have two roommates, both poets. J is from Ohio/all over, and M is from upstate New York.  Last night I had a great conversation with M and she said some things that I’m still thinking about and want to write about.

We talked about how we see evidence of God in our lives because of the way we desire to love people (siblingly love, thank you very much) who, to most standards, don’t really require our love. My students, for instance. I find myself praying for love for my students and, so far, God has come through. I really do love my students, even the ones that give me a hard time. I can’t explain it but to say that this love must come from another place.

M and I also talked about mental stability, and how we’ve both struggled with depression a bit. She said that she knows when she’s depressed, or in her head too much and obsessed with negative thoughts, that she’s not spiritually available for other people. That’s why she’s been finding ways to overcome depression (and as far as I know, she’s doing great. She’s in grad school, for one.)

I really like this idea of being “spiritually available to other people.”  Perhaps that is why I made it the title of this blog entry.    No, I think the reason I like it is because it’s definitely something I can’t really define, let alone accomplish.  But I do know what it is; I do know when I’m spiritually available and when I’m not.  I guess a lot of it, in my experience, has had to do with perspective.  This is what I think Jesus is getting at when he’s asking us to love God and Love people. God has been able to clean out my head and help me to see other people, not as broken, necessarily, but on their way to being fixed.

I don’t think that depression is the only thing that can hinder a person’s spiritual abililty.  Right now other things distract me–school pressures, tendency to gossip, etc.  But I was grateful for my conversation with M.  It’s nice to come across people who encourage love and spiritual availability.

For Michelle

While we’re on the subject of Detroit Fires…

Try here

The Wire, among other things

I began this summer between MA coursework with a list of things I hoped to accomplish, mostly books to read and stories to polish for submission.  I’ve done some of that, but I found myself hooked on the HBO Wire seasons.  The show came up a lot during our workshops, on the radio, talking to writers, conversations with friends–pretty much everywhere.  We had a visiting writer come in and the first thing he asked us was “How many of you have seen The Wire?” I think most of us hadn’t, so he proposed, in jest, that we just spend our entire time watching it.  He noted its complex characters and plot development as good study material.  With that in mind, this isn’t really a confession of wasted time–I can’t say I’ve been watching thoughtless TV all these hours.  It does serve a purpose.

I just finished Season 4 this afternoon, about the school system, and I feel the need to promote the show here on my blog to other writers, humanitarians, people who respect intelligence, etc…

I went to church today and after hearing a good sermon (about communion), I felt compelled to introduce myself to the pastor, which I hadn’t done yet though I’ve attended the church for a while.  I hesitated because I’m an English teacher, and university English departments have a reputation for pushing liberal agendas on students.  The pastor asked what I was doing here and I told him I was teaching and he asked if it was through the English department and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried… Probably a little surprised that I attend his church.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because I know I have a shameless liberal agenda and the Wire reminded me why.  My political stance springs from my Detroit, or  inner city, upbringing.   I’m quite passionate about urban issues and my students know it.  They debate with me, they make me angry sometimes, but I feel those suffering in America’s city, due to our failed institutions, should be a part of any academic experience.

The Wire’s writers share my convictions about wanting to introduce the public to the forgotten city in America.  The show didn’t do too well, and in the commentary the creators (actors, writers, producers) gave a lot of reasons why, mostly that it’s a tough show.  People go to the TV to escape from their problems and The Wire forces them to confront everything about our society they don’t want to know.   Watching it reminds me of how much I want people to acknowledge these things, to see how complicated they are, and to recognize themselves in the brokenness.

I hear the word “agenda” among Christians quite a bit.  It’s a negative term, it scares people.  But we all have agendas.  Let’s be honest about them.  I can say that I just want people to read good stories, or that I just want to teach my students how to write, and it’s true–I do want these things and I do believe they are powerful.  I also want people to understand life with God’s awareness, which I believe he offers freely to those who are serious about this love idea.   I want my students to have courage when interacting with people who don’t come from the same background.  I want my readers to ask why our systems fail.

Besides the fact that The Wire didn’t do so well with viewer ratings, it was completely overlooked by the Emmy Award committee.  If you’ve seen it, you’ll know why this is such a shame.  The acting is great, the writing is even better.   Among the other things that I think the show can teach us, the series reveals that the public doesn’t want to confront life’s tough issues.   As a writer and a teacher, it reminds me I need courage to tell the truth, courage because truth doesn’t yeild comfort (See The Four Gospels…)  I recommend the show to anyone who holds similar convictions.

Writing Time

I’ve come to learn that the difference between people who want to be writers and people who are writers is pretty simple: writing time.  In other words– discipline. I’ve heard it called ass-in-chair time, too.   Graduate school has helped me master the art of binge writing but I’m on break now and without the pressure of deadlines, it’s hard for me to get drafts out.

I like to hear what other writers say helps them to stay in the chair.  Anne Lamott uses little assignments (finish a scene, describe a room, get to this point in the story today).  This seems wise.

Another writer who visited us, Bret Anthony Johnston, says to finish each day’s writing session with a good idea about where to go next.  That way, you’ll be able to start somewhere on the next day.  Sounds good too, and sort of difficult.

Another aspect of writing discipline that I’m struggling with lately is finding the right place to work.  Background noise?  Comfortable chairs?  Music or no music?  Right now, a place with no internet connection sounds nice.  As soon as I click my browser, I’m done.

I’m interested in knowing other writers’ formulas for their writing time (where and when and how often).  What keeps you in the chair?

The Guest House (and thoughts)

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

(Rumi, Translated by Coleman Banks)

I especially like the line about sorrows cleaning us out for a new delight.

Similarly, Flannery O’Connor has an interesting thought about grace:

Human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful.

(From Richard Gionnone’s Introduction to Flannery O’Connor: Spiritual Writings, edited by Robert Ellsberg)

In other words…

Pain is inevitable, like change is inevitable.  Why resist it?

Probably because we’re living our lives like we’re on some survival show.   What if someone told us we don’t have to worry about survival any more?  That every ounce of pain and disappointment we get is for our benefit, if we allow it to be so?