Turn the Page. Every time I hear that phrase my mind instantly begins to replay any of several moments from my childhood. They all look like this: I'm sitting on the floor of my room, semi-lotus position, with a tape player and a book in front of me. The book and the tape go together, of course, and are designed to help a kid learn to read while listening to a cool story with background music, sound effects, etc. To help the listener/reader-in-training know when to turn the page, an unobtrusive "ding" sounds. Ultimately, conditioning results in the desired Pavlovian response, and the child doesn't even notice the "ding" at all; he just dutifully turns pages and wipes the saliva from the corner of his mouth.

I heard a "ding" in my life this afternoon. It was my final official day of being a golf coach. There are still award ceremonies to be attended and post season parties to throw, but my duties on the course are over; more than likely for good. The season ended today, and because of other obligations, I've already informed the athletic director that I wouldn't be coaching next year. I guess there's the outside possibility that I may coach again in the future, but "knowing how way leads on to way" it doesn't seem likely (thanks Mr. Frost).

I'll still play golf when I can, and teaching will be easier now with so much extra time. But, man, am I going to miss coaching. It just won't seem like spring without it.

"Ding...turn the page..."
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A couple of posts ago I mentioned my boy Mike. He's in Slovakia helping teenagers understand their place in the universe. Nice!

I wanted to put a link to his site, Pray4Mike, which he's been pretty faithful about updating.

Thanks for keeping us connected, Mikey! Keep up the God-work!

I've been listening to a certain song quite a bit lately, and I think I'm beginning to understand why. There are any number of reasons why one has an affinity for a song. Maybe you just like the music itself: the rhythm, the beat, the sound of it, something hard to describe, something nebulous. Sometimes it's not the music, maybe the music is simple, undressed, honest. And it could be this simplicity, this naked truth, that draws you in. It could be the melody of the song, the voice of the singer. But usually, for me it's the lyrics. I find I fall most deeply in love with songs that I just don't really get at first. As I spend time with them I begin to see things I'd overlooked before. Layers peel back, and the superficial meanings give way to something deeper. And at the core of most of these songs is a truth so simple: the writer and I have something in common. Now, that "something in common" may take many forms, it may be many emotions. But it's always emotion.

What's so unique about the art form is that, like so much of art, it can communicate as many different meanings as there are listeners (or viewers, as the case may be, with respect to the given art form). If what a song communicates is anything other than emotion then the song has not connected with that listener. If it is merely information, or idea, then it has missed that listener and must move on in search of more fertile soil, another heart to stir.

So the song that's attached itself to me right now is a song called "Home" by Dishwalla. It's off of their Opaline album, and I think it's been featured in a couple of movie soundtracks since its production a year or so ago. I'm only just beginning to get close to the meaning that the song is trying to communicate to me. Close enough at least to begin to be truly affected by it, deeply, deeply moved.

It seems like so often these days I find myself further detached from the world I've grown up in. Just a little peeling at first, but, like a band-aid, once that starts you just can't get it to reattach. I'm looking at things so differently than I used to, and it can be exhausting to go through such a radical shift of viewpoint. It seems that the most trying part of it all is that you feel you have so little in common with the people whose lives you are immersed in. So I've found great comfort in this song, knowing that J. R. Richards and I had something in common. Never met the guy, but I believe there are kindred spirits out there that we know not of. Not yet, at least.

So this song has become, to me, somewhat of a prayer. At first glance the later lines in the song may seem to be wishing for death, but that's only if you take the meaning of the song to be on the "horizontal" plane. Seen on the vertical, it can easily be a simple plea for a few moments of true communion with the Creator. To ask that he become the re-creator. "I'm spent, take me in where you are, and let me escape just for awhile." Where it leaves off, for me at least, is a sense of optimism that if I can rest in the All-knowing arms, I can be rejuvenated. That depth of fellowship can reform, reconstruct, revive, renew.

If any of this has resonated with you, check them out at dishwalla.com. Click on the "album" link and you can listen to several songs, including "Home." Strongly recommended.

Home

I'm so sick and tired
of all these things
that drag me down
I've got no where to go
they say that life
is in these hands
you give everything
you give yourself away you give
and still you choke
and find yourself running for the door

come and take me
home
lead me to your door
take me where you are
lead me to your door
at least just for a while

its some kind of life
forever days
we're in the cold
unfamiliar way
so take this fear
and fade it out
it won't make me sad
cause I get sentimental Lord
in other ways
and I don't want to let me down here anymore

so come and take me home
lead me to your door
take me where you are
lead me to your door
and let me in
just let me in
and let me leave
just let me leave this world
come on now let me leave this world
at least just for a while