And the songs are left

There is a moment when creating that jolts and sends sparks of excited energy into the room. It's almost tangible, it's thick like invisible fog. I'm most aware of this energy when I'm among a task-focused group of composers: guitars and drums, singers and audience. We're watching a song be born. Tempo is being chosen, melody is being hummed, riffs are taking shape, the beat is thumping along, stops and starts, quicks and breakdowns. We start from the beginning multiple times, the beginning where familiar becomes sharp, tight, and the sharper and tighter it becomes the more fun it is and then some new part, note, verse until we've started from the beginning again. Gradually we wind through the thick fog and the electricity lifts the hairs on our necks, our arms; the song oozes into our ears and buzzes our entire emotional beings. Once complete, the song becomes polished with timings and more subtle note affectations and the desire to share it with others sits itself on a lamp side table where it waits, glowing, buzzing. Eventually the song is immortalized, and moments from a specific day, specific studio experience are ripped and pasted piece by piece into a finalized representation of this amazing new baby of a song. It makes no difference whether it has achieved a live performance prior to its recording, the recording is just part of the evolution. Once it has been put on display the tarnish sets in and the shiny starts to dull. But among its creators, this creation never loses its place in the trophy case, it can be played and replayed. Though the memories of its birth might gradually fade, the creation remains as important as a doodle on a notepad or a painting on a wall. A masterpiece deserving attention. Eliciting feelings. Brilliant pops and tones that cause familiar shudders of ownership and pride.

Then the band breaks up, the one-hits go on the shelf with the others, and the songs are left to dissolve into a single pinprick of existence in an infinite universe. We are the finest of powder among quintillions of created blobs of matter.

Faith

When things are not going all that well, I wonder how long will those moments last? When can I experience relief? And when things are going exceptionally well, I wonder how long can I hold onto those moments? How long will those moments last? There’s something wrong with both of those scenarios.

Imagine there is a problem that is affecting you, and you don’t know yet how to pass through it. This breeds worry. Worry is uncertainty, and it feels bad.

Now imagine, the solution to the problem has been found, and steps have been taken which move toward it. This encourages belief, which says, “I see the end result of the steps I have taken in order to achieve resolution and I believe these things will take place to achieve the desired end.” In the moments of belief a certain confidence calms the anxiety and uncertainty previously inspired by the problem.

Once the solution is found and successfully implemented, this inspires peace, but there is still a trauma associated with the manifestation of the original problem. Like a scar it serves as a reminder that difficult moments had come, surprising moments, challenging moments, and this can be intimidating and frightening because it means that moments like them are apt to happen at any time. This reminder also shows that somehow you survived.

Now imagine living every moment of every day with the kind of confidence and trust that says no matter the solution, it is enough. This is faith, and faith is bigger than belief, and is not a delusion of control. Faith is not defined by the end result of a previous circumstance. Faith does not even assure victory over a challenge. Faith breeds contentment, to be able to say, “In all things I have learned to be content: in little and in much, hungry and full, having need and having plenty.”

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

The hurricane of the mind

Solipsism, in philosophy, is an extreme form of subjective idealism that demands that the human mind has no valid ground for believing in the existence of anything but itself.

Therefore every moment is specific to that mind, and no other mind, regardless of proximity, will experience said moment in the same way.

Leaks in surrounding existence present selective and tailored ideas in various trickles, revealing channels of pathways toward the goals I've been seeking.

Yet my progress is stymied. I know that effort is reward and I know that effort becomes results, but complacency keeps me rooted in inaction. I know WHAT to do but I don't DO.

I am guilty. I am aware of my guilt. I condemn myself tenfold above external condemnation. This is still not enough to provoke me into action. And I am intimidated by the circumstances which would prompt progress, because I mentally create negative attributes that could potentially present during these circumstances. Even when I am confident the positive attributes would be just as abundant, even unto success.

Truth

Of course I'll go with you because I know it's something you really want to do but because I won't enjoy it I'll make sure you don't enjoy it either that way you'll never want to do it again