Here are a few key moments for me from 2011.
Trying to assess my experience of being involved in a faith community in the early part of January 2011, I wanted to write and give a sermon at theDowntown Presbyterian Church, where I am a member, and volunteer leader. There was a Napoleon Dynamite-esque passage in the middle. A video posted at this blog is available should this interest you.
Full disclosure: I understand, less than ever, the religious side of being a human. It seems fraught with pain, violence, and looking down upon others. However, I understand, more and more, my fundamental human attraction to, and dependence upon, Mystery, Wonder, and Grace. So, sharing in these elements with a community of others, an open community, (which I wish for and make strides for through DPC, but also through regular informal friend arrangements), what a pleasure and relief. On my best days, I see all of our sweet world waking up to a post-religious experience and existence. If religion is anything good, as Brian McLaren writes on this (and more conservatively, thankfully) in the early section of March 2011 book Naked Spirituality, it is actually re-attaching ligaments, re-ligio (get it?) of an unattached body. Religion as a good thing, actually. Is it possible? Maybe. I say this as a fully functioning Presbyterian at present. So, I am divided.
The Bruce Cockburn record Small Source of Comfort. I first listened to this record in a Nashville Marriott Courtyard hotel room on West End. It was via friend, Gareth Higgins’ laptop speakers. Other friend Will Otto and I just sat there and let it hang over us like a rain cloud. His melancholy is so well-honed and expressed (as it is throughout his amazingly long/productive career). In particular, Driving Away was the song Gareth played. Near midnight, I remember us sitting in silence afterward. Later in 2011, friend David Dark and I saw Bruce perform at the Belcourt. He referenced from stage his own appearing in wunderkind spirituality book, The Shack, years before, via author of the book who Bruce has no connection to, William P. Young. There, the Almighty, depicted as an elderly African-American woman who cooks, explained she was a fan of his to the story’s protagonist. Hahaha. Weird and great.
In April, I put together a variety show called Compassion Fatigues (earlier blog post has me explaining it). About 15 friends joined with me, doing different songs, skits, and bits of trivia before a crowd in the chapel of DPC. Kenny G was there, Bono was there, the two lead characters of Mice and Men gave a showing. Many other great appearances. All in the subtle name of: “I’m tired of caring so much, if that’s okay.” This concept strikes me as a necessary anodyne in a faith community where much time is spent with the down and out. If humor can provide a release valve – and through this I saw that it can – then we may have less of a chance of burning out from the compassionate impulse (and the aloof impulse, which will also destroy). I have a video tape of the whole thing, which I’ve never reviewed.
In June I took two trips. One to New York City to spend time with friend Ryan Taylor, who had recently moved there. That first night in town we saw Daniel Lanois, Brian Blade, and Trixie Whitley (“Black Dub”) perform at Webster Hall. There is no finer guitar player of the ambient rock era, nor is a more active and visionary sculptor of sound. Ryan and I had a lot of great food and drink from Urban Rustic (Brooklyn) and The Library (East Village). Drinking the best rye old fashioned ever with Ryan well past midnight in nook of The Library while Radiohead’s Lotus Flower bubbled up from the center of the earth… such things are the deepest magic.
The other trip in June was to the Wild Goose Festival in Shakori Hills, North Carolina. It was a music, speaking, and art/spirituality festival in its inaugural year. Gareth was (and is!) the Executive Director. There is plenty of information on the web about the festival. Friend Linda Sack and I drove the 8ish hour drive from Nashville and camped (oh yes) with the ~1,700 others. None of us really knew who would be there or what to expect. It was rather wonderful and time with many friends old and new will not soon be forgotten. Avideo that I randomly was edited into – is a great cross-section of what you might expect from the festival. I plan to attend in 2012.
U2 playing Nashville at Vanderbilt Stadium in early July. Going with friend Todd Greene, pre-gaming with friend Thomas Conner, post-gaming (at Todd’s) with many, many great friends reflecting on the concert. All very surreal. I still go back and watch videos on You Tube. That the blind fan played All I Want Is You with the band – as Bono invited him up on stage – all this at the very end of the much extraordinary show… then Bono gave him his guitar… ?!?! This is cheesy – but I believe we are all the blind guy at one of the three stages: fan, player, awardee.
That same week before the show (June 29), Matthew Perryman Jones, David Dark, and me, put together the When Love Comes to Town tribute show at DPC with many amazing talented local and national musicians, covering U2 songs. The poster is here on the blog. 350 people came and around $1,500 was raised for The Contributor. Finally getting appropriate mileage out of my Belmont music business degree!
With friend Alison McCommons and David and Sarah Dark’s help, throwing a mid-August birthday bash, the “Birthday Behemoth.” David and Sarah have a great stage in their yard perfect for entertaining 50-100 people. Todd Greene, Tony Doling, and other friends were amazing contributors to our string of delightful songs, skits, and musings on “coming of age,” which was the theme.
Friend Laurie Shaw and I took time out to complete a wildly memorable and highly original forest canopy tour in the high hills outside of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. This, in October. We both have a thrill seeker side. The name of the company is CLIMB Works and it is quite new and is absolutely worth the money and time to do this. The weather, foliage, and energy of that mid-afternoon trek through long, challenging, and sometimes harrowing zip lines – always flanked by very cool guides – all was the perfect fall release. All of this was way better than the Ripley’s Believe it or Not! museums now at I think four different locations back in downtown Gatlinburg.
Although I did not go home to Chesapeake, Virginia, for Thanksgiving this year, I did go home three days after, for thanksgiving. My grandfather, John C. Hale, Sr., passed away, the last of my grandparents, on Saturday, November 26, 2011, after battling many ailments. It is clichéd, but the passing of a relative does leave spirit behind to the living. My grandfather spent the first 10 or so years of his life in rural North Carolina in a farm community, completing farm tasks without electricity or modern plumbing. He completed through to about the 8th grade of school. He soon joined the U.S. Navy and sailed the world during World War II. He lived until 83, seeing his world change drastically, fathering my mother along the way, and helping to change it in the best ways he knew. If I might live as long, I can only hope to both witness and affect all that he did.
I must have passed the Hot Yoga studio on the corner of Elliston and Louise here in Nashville about, and this is no metaphorical number, 1,000 times. Then, in mid-November of this year, Groupon purchased, I completed my first practice (1 hour session). I went on as a trial member for the remaining month, completing about 15 classes. It is extraordinary business. I am neither good at it, nor horrible. The strange thing is the nature of “challenge.” I am continually surprised at how hard becomes easy becomes hard again under the lamp of bikram yoga poses. Each class is, thanks to the many ace instructors, both easy and hard. It’s a great metaphor for living more present, more in the now. Yesterday’s session was the closest I have ever come to passing out, interestingly enough. I pushed far too hard in the early portion of the class, and became much light headed by the middle. I felt quite dizzy and ended up laying down – which is socially acceptable in the host of yogis and the instructors. I never quite blacked out, thankfully. After downtime of 15ish minutes just lying there, I got up, and finished out the rest of the class, feeling almost normal. Eventually, I was fine. No one ever said anything, because the classes are meant to address each person individually.
The whole idea of hot yoga, could we say, is a bit preposterous? Who knows why anyone is there, really. It’s all mystery. All Wonder and Grace, actually, if I start trying to identify what is going on. I can’t wait to go back for my next session, which won’t be a problem, since I purchased a year membership (!) two weeks ago.
Happy New Year, friends. All good wishes as we begin 2012 together.
Geoff
