in which i pretend to be a book blogger: Frederick Buechner Week Begins!

This isn't technically a book blog, but I guess it could be. I mean, I am a word nerd with a small to-read pile growing on my floor, and I have done a few blog tours and posted a bunch of little geek out and book plug moments. And if we're talking about making sense out of life around here, then what better way to do that than read a lot of stuff by people smarter than me?

I do keep up with a few book blogs though, and one I've enjoyed getting to know in the past few months is My Friend Amy. This week, she's hosting her first ever themed week around the works of Frederick Buechner, and as a new fan of this author's work, I figured this was a good time to pretend I have a proper book blog and join the fun. :)

Here's what Amy has to say about the idea behind this:

I wanted to see what kind of representation he had in the book blogosphere. After all, he has written more than 30 works including fiction, such as Godric which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. The answer, according to the book blogger search engine, is not much.

I know this is an unusual theme to take, since he is a writer of faith and largely beloved, I think, for his nonfiction. However, I believe his work is accessible and I'm hoping against hope that some of you will take the plunge and check him out.

So there you have it. I have a post planned to talk about my discovery of this writer and theologian and how I became a fan. Also, Amy was kind enough to send me a copy of his memoir Eyes of the Heart which I've been reading and plan to post about sometime really soon this week.

In the meantime, you can follow along at her blog this week for some links to other discussions around the web. I'm hoping along with her that you might be intrigued enough to check out his work.

And now... time to crash. 3.5 hours of sleep has made this an interesting Monday.

the leap

I don't like to make leaps. I deliberate, ponder, wrestle out the possibilities, and worry. Oh, I worry. Mostly about details and things I can't control and the stuff that could potentially go wrong.

But sometimes, you have to make the leap and worry about the details later. Sometimes you just have to take an opportunity and run with it.

Today, the good folks at The Rabbit Room announced their second annual Hutchmoot conference. September 22 - 25, Nashville, TN. I only deliberated a little while before I clicked "Register," and only second-guessed and stressed for seconds before clicking "Checkout."

See, last year, I wanted to go SO badly. I longed to be there because, as I've said multiple times here, this little web community has come to mean a lot to me in the past couple years. I still feel like a lurker, but at least I've started chiming in on conversations more often, and I'm pretty sure if we all got together I'd feel like I belong. But I just couldn't commit, and the thing sold out, and I had a crazy chance to go anyway but declined, and then I had major car issues the week of the 'Moot that cost a good chunk of savings that wouldn't have existed if I'd spent it on a trip... so it goes...

Still sucked to miss it though. I vowed I wouldn't do that again this year. Good thing too... Hutchmoot 2011 sold out within 5 hours of the announcement. Amazing! And I am among them.

So... yup. I'm going to Nashville this fall! I don't know where I'll stay or what to expect, but having my name on the list makes it feel a little more real somehow.

And now the real travel planning fun begins. Flight, hotel, car, and all that stuff in between. Ahh!

free music win

Free & awesome of the day: Andrew Peterson's 2006 album The Far Country is a free download on the glorious music service Noisetrade. This was one that I picked up at his show in November, and it quickly became one of my favorites. It's a beautiful, poetic record about life and death and Heaven, with a healthy dose of nerdy Lewis and Tolkein references (always a plus). It also has really rad cover art.

What? You need more convincing than Lewis/Tolkein nerdiness and that rad cover? Okay... then how about these lines from the title track as an example of AP's lyrical powers? Gets me every time....

“I believe in the holy shores of uncreated light
I believe there is power in the blood.
And all of the death that ever was, if you set it next to life
Well, I believe it would barely fill a cup.”

Seriously, go download this. You're welcome. :)

my least of these

photo © 2009 Sean Hickin | more info (via: Wylio)A couple weeks ago, my sister and I ventured out to Mt. Dora to check out the local art festival. It was a beautiful day for it, just a little cool and overcast, but at least not raining. After circling downtown for a while, we finally paid the 5 bucks to secure a quiet spot behind a run-down gas station, then took the several-block walk down Fifth Avenue to find the party.

Downtown really comes alive during this festival, drawing artists from all over the country with colorful booths to display, share, and sell their work. But there was one group I didn't expect to see...

Sign-carrying street evangelists. Yup.

A small crowd in red t-shirts, holding up garish signs announcing that Jesus Loves You and Repent Before It's Too Late and such. A gray-haired Southern preacherly type paced back and forth announcing, "God wants to have a relationship with you! You think you can serve God however you want and still be saved? You can't just have it on your terms!" They were everywhere, stretched across the entrance to the festival, lining the sidewalks to hand tracts off to anyone they could.

I don't say this to be rude or disparaging toward them. Actually, with the exception of the preacher and the loud signs and the fact that they were kind of clogging up the entrances, they weren't doing anything disruptive, mostly just hanging back and offering tracts. I remember the guy that used to stand on the corner at UCF, handing out horror tracts and screaming at students in an effort to get them saved, so these guys were nothing in comparison to him.

But there was still something... I don't know... embarrassing about it? Maybe because CynicalJen was holding her breath waiting for them to do something crazy? As a Christian, I cringe a little inside at this sort of thing, because I know there was a time I would've relished being a part of this. Now, I just wonder if anyone's ever been argued into the kingdom with a badly-designed tract when they wanted to shop for art. I wished that they had perhaps been giving out water or something, doing tangible things, loving on people.

I thought about them all day. And later, I had a scary thought.

Like it or not, I am part of the same Kingdom family. I'm supposed to love these people.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" - Matthew 25:40

We all know this verse.... the one about loving the least of these. From the earliest days of learning Jesus' teachings, we hear that when we treat the least either kindly or terribly, we are, in a sense, treating God the same. And often, this is interpreted to mean loving the poor, because right before this he was talking about food and clothing and visiting the sick and imprisoned.

But what if the least of these is more than that?

Loving the poor is easy. I can do that. I can love the lost and the losers, orphans and widows. Even enemies can be easier to love, because at least you don't expect much of anything from them.

But what about those right in my own family? What if "the least" includes the least popular, the least lovable, the least "normal"?

What about the legalists and cynics?
The screaming street preachers and smiling televangelists?
The sheltered and scared, too chained to religiosity and rule lists to realize they're free, tossing stones at those who stretch their wings to fly a little further?

Oh God... do I have to love the Westboro Baptist people too? That's really pushing it.

These are the hardest for me to love, and try as I might, I don't think I really can... at least, not in my bent, all too fragile human way. Oh, but I want to. I long to be so full of of Christ's light and love that it overflows and evaporates in the air around me. I want to radiate just the smallest fraction of the love that brings dead things to life and undoes the chilling winter of the soul, even if only enough to warm the ice.

I don't know how to get there, other than let him love through me and try, in the tiniest of ways, to see them as human, and yet more than that... beloved, sacred, crafted in the Maker's image.

Just as I've been seen. known. loved.

Who is your "least of these"?

sick days aren't so bad

Sick days mean sleeping way too late, and sitting around in your pajamas until 1pm just because you can and nobody will judge you.

They're uninterrupted reading time (preparing for Buechner Week with My Friend Amy... but more on that soon!), and even a nap in just because. And eating at weird times, and dusting off the journal, and finally filling in some pages in the awesome Music Listography book you got for your birthday months ago but haven't seemed to make the time to think about. (the "music from your high school years" page is almost full and a blog post unto itself.)

Hot tea is important. So are frozen dinners. And a shower in the middle of the day and finally putting on normal clothes even if you have no intentions on going out does wonders to make you feel human again.

But mostly... it's a relief to finally have a day to just be sick enough to shut down and give myself the rest that I've been needing for a while. Been feeling "off" lately, and it was nice to just claim a day to rest, reflect, and get back on track. (Including picking up my Photo-a-Day project again.)

All good things aside though... one day is enough. I'll have cabin fever for sure if I have to do it tomorrow. :)

***

Okay, in interesting sick day reading material... stumbled on this article through @bookbench on Twitter. What Happens in Vagueness Stays in Vagueness. Some interesting thoughts on the evolution of language toward, like, vagueness and stuff. I realized in reading this how guilty I am of the Vagueness (like, umm, you know, right?) in my own writing and speaking, and it made me want to work on that. What do you think of this "linguistic virus"?

penance

Apologies to those I traumatized with yesterday's confessional post. Your comments cracked me up, and I appreciate the concern for my sudden lapse in musical judgment. You're good friends. :) (If it makes you feel better, after a couple listens half of the songs ended up jettisoned from my iPod due to "meh" or general ickiness. But I did get my 3 bucks worth.)

As penance, I found something free and actually good that I will gladly share with you. I have heard so much praise for Over the Rhine for years, so why am I just now actually listening to them? Beautiful.



And then... The Civil Wars. Dude, how about that indie duo that popped out of nowhere and dominated iTunes for the whole street week? It's incredibly satisfying to see something beautiful arrive and have a strong presence for so long... even if it did get bumped out of iTunes' Top 10 by three Justin Bieber things a week later. (sadness. there goes my hope for music and humanity.)



"The Laugh of Recognition" and "Poison and Wine" are both free on Amazon right now. Download and enjoy.

dear amazon

Thanks for making Valentine's Day awesome again. No, srsly. You rock.

In honor of hearts and candy and love and all that jazz, Amazon is giving $2 off any Mp3 purchase through February 14. Enter the code VDAYMP3S at checkout to get $2 credit added to your account.

Of course, you can get anything you want, but there is always a plethora of $5 deals to choose from, which, if my math is correct, will cost less than most Frappuccinos after the discount. If you're stumped on how to spend it, may I humbly recommend some of my favorites from February's offerings?

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
It topped my 2010 best of list and I already gushed about it, so I won't put you through that again. Someday I will write an essay on how great this is and why it should win Album of the Year on Sunday night (with a lengthy appendix on why it won't. Stupid Grammys.) If you haven't heard this yet, you officially have no excuse now.

The Smiths - The Queen is Dead
If mopey mid-80's alt-pop-rockish stuff with a side of British wit is more your jam, you couldn't really go wrong with this choice. It's moody, a bit melodramatic, clever lyrics ("Frankly Mr. Shankley" makes me lol and I don't really know why.) but there's still something really cool about it. One reviewer says it's a great introduction to The Smiths... I'd agree.

Anberlin - Cities
You know I love me some Anberlin, and if you were to only get one of their albums, this would be the one. Falling somewhere between their rougher early sound and the more polished mainstream rock from the past couple years, their final Tooth & Nail release is full of heavy rock textures, singable hooks, and Stephen Christian's famously cryptic songwriting. Most fans still agree that this was their best.

Mae - The Everglow
Actually, I just listened to this one the other day for the first time in a very long while. Mae's sophomore release took their atmospheric emo-rock sensibilities to the next level and developed it into a concept album. I admit, something is lost without the liner notes and artwork (it's built on the idea of one of those old-school books on tape), but it's still a lovely piece for the emo kid in all of us.

Carole King - Tapestry
Aw, come on... it's a classic! My mom introduced me to this record a long time ago, and there's something just timeless about these songs and the sweet voice to go with it. I haven't heard it in ages, come to think of it.

So those are my picks of the stuff I already have on the $5 list. Of course, you could always save a little bit on The Civil Wars' Barton Hollow (which is amazing, if you haven't heard), or go buy a couple of those hit singles you secretly dig but don't want to pay for (I won't tell.) But this was too wonderful not to share.

As for me... um, I drank the Kool-Aid.


What can I say? I wanted some fun dance/pop to counter the gloomy weather, and 3 bucks isn't much of a risk. Actually, this is some well-crafted stuff, and as long as I like three tracks, it's okay. And I do.

thanks + facebook + interview + good reading

Firstly, thanks are in order for the encouraging words on my last post. Thank you everyone who took the time to read and leave a note to remind me why I do this writing thing. You are wonderful. :) If perhaps you missed it, click on over to find out Why I Hope You Don't Read My Blog... or at least why I did last week.

Second, an announcement: Div Sense is on Facebook! Do u like me? Check yes or no. (I hope you do... or at least my blog!) Please come visit and like and stay a while, and if you feel so inclined, share the word! One of my goals for the new year is to work toward building a little community around this place, and I'm hoping this is one more way to make that process a little bit easier.

Third, a shameless plug: I have a new interview with Brandon Heath posted at JFH. I haven't done one of these things since July, so I admit, as usual, I stressed a little beforehand on the questions. And as usual, my stress was stupid, because it turned out to be painless and fun. Brandon's a cool guy and was gracious enough to chat with me for a while about new music, quirky facts, superpowers, and NASA. Please check it out!

Fourth, I highly recommend you read the newest post at The Rabbit Room, "A Burst of Laughter" Truly lovely thoughts on writing by Mr. Andrew Peterson. This image especially struck me to the core, so resonant, beautiful, and true:

"I am convinced that poets are toddlers in a cathedral, slobbering on wooden blocks and piling them up in the light of the stained glass. We can hardly make anything beautiful that wasn’t beautiful in the first place. We aren’t writers, but gleeful rearrangers of words whose meanings we can’t begin to know. When we manage to make something pretty, it’s only so because we are ourselves a flourish on a greater canvas."

And I am reminded all over again why this matters.

Currently: I hear the steady drip of raindrops on the tree outside my window, and there are lively Sara Bareilles tunes in my headphones and a mug of green tea by my side. (my new addiction, but at least it's a healthy one.) This weekend was so full and I didn't get a sleep-in day, but that's somehow satisfying.

Went art festing in Mt. Dora with my sister this afternoon. Love to watch her freak out over art. We walked a lot, sipped coffee, explored art booths from veterans and high schoolers alike, and painted on a giant community canvas (still have flakes of yellow on my hand to prove it) And I'm about to go tackle an unfinished poem from months ago, because at some point today I realized how I want it to end.

All in all, I have a feeling I'll sleep well tonight.

A happy week to you all. :)

why I hope you don't read my blog

photo © 2009 Markus | more info (via: Wylio)I've never been a fan of saying "God told me so." I've heard it said, and I believe it happens, but I never really had it happen to me. At least, not in a "voice-from-the-clouds-says-do-this" sort of way.

But it happens. Differently. It's more like a subtle needling, a little quiet poke here and there that works into my soul until I can't shake it. Sometimes, it's like God and the whole universe keeps setting down these little rocks for me to trip on until I learn. Typically, it's running into a truth over and over until it finally slaps me in the face and makes me listen.

This happened during our staff devotions last Thursday. We just started a study on Biblical peacemaking, but oddly enough, this lesson taught me about writing and fear.


To be honest, I don't fully remember why Esteemed Sensei Reggie Kidd referenced Albert Camus' The Plague in this lesson. (In fact, I'm going to confess to the Internet and the world that I was trying to catch up on my reading because I failed to do my homework the week before. Sorry, Sensei.) I think it was in a discussion of how the ultimate end of the deadly sins of pride and sloth is death, either murder or suicide in some fashion. But then he said something that snapped me back to attention...

There's this character in the book who's a writer. But he never finishes or shares, only talks about writing, and spends his days endlessly revising and tweaking and dreaming. All because he fears rejection.

And that, in a way, is "an extended form of suicide."

Ouch.

Just an hour later, I found that my writerly blogfriend Kristin shared a link to this on Twitter: Why You Secretly Want to Fail (Or Why Sharing Your Creativity is Like the Dream Where You're Naked) Turns out it's about how creatives suppress themselves to please others, proposing that some of us want to fail:

"Because if we bare all in our work, and our work is rejected, then we feel rejected as a whole person. We think we are our work."

Um... double ouch.


I am guilty of this. I hide my poetry in notebooks. I demean my work with names like scribblings and ramblings. Shoot, every time I post something on this blog, I second-guess and secretly hope nobody reads it (which is dumb, because if I didn't want anyone to read my stuff, I wouldn't have a stupid blog in the first place.) My most vulnerable (and often, my favorite) posts languish forever in a drafts folder, because I don't want to annoy anyone or go too far.

And yet, the blogs and stories and poetry and songs I am most drawn to are vulnerable. Honest. True. Things I desperately want to be, but seldom manage to pull off.

Extended suicide. That rings in my head.


I used to think my reluctance to share things I write was a kind of modesty, but these two little tripping stones taught me that it may be the opposite. I always believed stringing words together -- or any form of creativity -- was a gift, the sort of weird compulsive thing that gets in your blood and defines you forever.

So if it's that entwined in who you are, isn't denying and suppressing that thing actually smothering a deep, mysterious, beautiful part of your God-breathed being?

Ugh. So conflicting.

As I finish this, I'm second-guessing hitting the "publish post" button. I'm worried you'll think this is another whiny, self-indulgent, emo tortured writer tale, and I'm sure it possibly could be. But I also feel a need to name the fear and insecurity before I can go on. Hey, I might even share a link to this and start admitting I do this writing thing so people will actually read it. Who knows?


After reading the post, I tweeted Kristin to thank her and share the irony of her timing, concluding with "I think I'm supposed to learn something today..."

She replied, "yes, I think maybe you are supposed to learn something today. God is pretty wise, eh? :)"

Oh yes, yes he is.