Breakfast - Bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios
Lunch - PBJ
Dinner - Leftover Lasagna
Music Is At War Within Me
Music usually makes me want to do various things. I'd say most music I listen to makes me want to drive. Drive fast. Some music makes me want to run or exercise, maybe go for a long bike ride. Fun music makes me want to dance - I love dancing and so does Kid President. And some music makes me want to just close my eyes and breathe.
Then there's music that makes me want to write.
Queue Rosi Golan's GiveUp the Ghost. That's how we got here.
Suffice it to say, music usually takes me places. And lately,
I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this.
Because life is
usually what takes us places and music is just what's there in the background.
It's passively consumed and serves as a soundtrack to our daily routine. But,
every now and again this soundtrack aligns with our realities in such a perfect
way that we might as well be a character in a Cameron Crowe film (I love
Cameron Crowe films). And I believe that it is within these moments that powerful
memories are made. The kind of memories that help give meaning to the word nostalgia.
If you just so happen to experience enough of these moments
in your life, I believe you shift from being a passive music consumer to being
a very intentional music consumer. You begin to allow the music to take you
places more often than you used to. It's no longer a soundtrack resting in the
background of your life, but more of a guiding force in the foreground of your
life. You begin to consider its power and how to harness it for moments of
celebration, sorrow, study, worship, solitude, togetherness and so much more.
Now if you get carried away with this, you probably find
yourself overestimating your abilities and fooling yourself into believing that
you should pursue a career in music supervision for TV & Film. You tell
your friends how great you'd be at that kind of thing. And, while most of your
friends probably do enjoy your curated road trip playlists, please do not give
up your day job. Music supervision is a very difficult business that requires
more than just one’s keen ability to know at what point during a 12 hour drive to
ironically play “Don’t Stop Believing” and lift everyone’s spirits.
I remember exactly where I was when I first heard Mat
Kearney's "Nothing Left to Lose." I can still feel the wind on my
face, smell the salt in the air, and sense the feeling of freedom I had as a
newly licensed 16-year-old Florida boy driving to the beach for the first time,
alone, with the windows down. That song, in that moment, gave me a very
specific hope-filled feeling about my future.
A few months back Mat played this song at a show in
Nashville and upon hearing the melody for the first time in years I was
instantly transported back to that golden hour on that coastal road. I was
reminded of that specific hope-filled feeling towards my future, but for the first
time was able to reflect on it unlike ever before. Over a decade had passed.
The future that 16-year-old Florida boy had dreamed of was now the past of this
27-year-old bachelor.
In that moment at the concert I realized something new about
myself. Music is at war within me.
Music tears me in two completely opposite and conflicting
directions. The first of which is the sea of emotion that I am tossed into
headfirst when the nostalgic appeal of the music assaults my senses. Everything
within me craves to return to meaningful memories from my past of a better time
that no longer exists; a time I perhaps did not know would be as meaningful as
it was in that instant – a time when I was a character in a Cameron Crowe film.
For the duration of a verse and a chorus I am tempted to flee, heading in a
backwards direction. Why not leave everything in the present? Why not give all of
this up for the pursuit of what once was? A town I no longer live in.
Relationships I no longer have hold of. Youthfulness I’ll never get back… The
road to this hope-filled future was different than expected, and the music
makes me want to drop everything and sprint, recklessly, back to when I could
only guess at life.
But then comes the bridge.
I believe in service; that the calling of a Christian is a
calling into servanthood. And when the bridge builds towards refrain a wave of
hope washes over me, and the music pushes me onward and into the future. This
is the second direction – forward. The path set before me is a path of service,
and I am a servant to the song. This is the feeling that must always and will
always overpower my desire to move backwards. The music moves me, moves us,
filled with hope, forward.
I believe this is why I am in Nashville – to serve the song.
And though I’m still learning what that looks like, I find so much purpose and
joy in this calling.
There are artists out there writing songs of hope, and they
need people who are committed to serving the song to help them share their hope-filled
messages with the world. So that just maybe, somewhere, some 16 year old kid
driving to the beach for the first time with the windows down can hear it, and
that kid will know that life is special and that there are far greater things
ahead than behind.
