KEEN- If It's the Beaches

Today we have Keen from kristenwarwick.com. She is an absolutely amazing writer! I basically read every one of her blog posts like they are hot off the press. She should be published and I won't be the least surprised if she is one day in the not so distant future. She is good. Keen, I turn it over to you.

there is a reason why artists so often sing about love. both happy and sad.

both found and forgotten.

because love is something everyone gets. love is something people will unfailingly purchase on the i-tunes store and buy on the-now-brilliant-google-music (seriously--yet another reason to love google--as if g-mail, google docs, google +, and g-calendar weren’t enough).

why? because love is the one thing that no one can deny.

and sure, you’ve got to talented enough to put it to some catchy chords with some kick-a lyrics and a great lead guitar.

the music is the main dessert.

and the lyrics are the cherry on top.

take this song for example. if its the beaches by the avett brothers.

love them. great music. they have that raw, folk-rock sound that i wonder how anyone can pass up. their lyrics always seem to grab at the sensitive, already bruised areas of my heart

just like billy corgan from the smashing pumpkins. the guy is a freakin’ poet-magician-man. sometimes, on really dark days, if i want to magnify a heartbroken feeling i am experiencing, i turn the ol’ i-pod to ‘mayonaise’ and let my boy billy do the talking. he’s such an emotional weirdo. but really, i don’t know if it’s the drugs or what, but he seems to get it.

this song, ‘if it’s the beaches’ does just that.

it is basically a plea. a plea of desperation. in hopes of continuing with a struggling relationship.

raise you’re hand if you’ve been here before? yeah, i think we all have.

on one end or the other.

personally, i’ve been both the culprit and the victim. i’ve done the fighting. i’ve let down my pride, putting everything and more on the line. complete vulnerability (and honestly--i wouldn’t recommend this--ever--but props to those who do) offering to give that other person just about anything they desired. whether it was the beaches or the mountains bending rivers...i would have found a way.

whew.

and then--sadly--i’ve also been the bad guy.

the one that hurts the other. and then leaves them to figure out a way through their tears and aching gut.

i hate being that.

truly, if there is one thing i hate in this world--it is that.

it’s an odd thing, isn’t it? that we can become so close to someone and want it so badly, and yet still find ourselves standing amongst the remains of a shattered relationship.

in fact, i have a dear friend.

a person who was very close to me at a time. who recently experienced a most devastating heartache.

he lost a merciless fight. offering everything he could in hopes of salvaging a relationship.

finding himself with a head--once held high with enthusiasm for life--now dropped in heaviness of a lost and painful cause.

yuck-y.

it seriously gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. i start thinking to hard and i begin re-living the sleepless nights of tear-stained pillow cases and vivid nightmares. wondering why your story couldn’t end like the ones you grew up reading in nancy drew books and the babysitters’ club.

i mean, they are poorly written books but still. you can’t help but wonder.

you ask yourself. again and again. why?

trying to figure what you did wrong. wishing you could go back. wishing that you could change. just like in this song.

just like my friend has recently experienced, it can be devastating. and at times. relationships will end.

however, this song is interesting because the lyrics don’t necessarily lead you to believe that this struggling-slightly-imbalanced relationship ends.

the last two lines go something like this.

while i go gas up the truck, pack the old love letters up. we will read them when we forget why we left here.

curious, eh?

the ending of this song is what i love and hate most about it. all at the same time.

because in a way--this is simple and beautiful. bringing the reality of an ongoing effort to keep a relationship progressing. happy. and loving.

and in that same way--it captures a reality that haunts me on a daily basis. that though love itself is a perfect thing, relationships and human beings are not.

and even the most seemingly perfect of relationships have their trials.

because the fact of the matter is--one day you will forget why you are where you are and possibly question who you are with. you will need to pull out those old love letters. take a nice breather. and then get back up and keep on fighting.

you’ll do what it takes.

because that’s what we do.

when all is said and done...

yeah, relationships don’t always work out. no matter how hard you fight it. people will disagree. lose interest. lose hope. feel lost. whatever.

you’ll wish you could go back and change. but it won’t matter.

it will suck.

but then. there are sometimes that relationships will work.

and though the fight to keep that love-a-growin’ will never stop. and yes, you can tattoo that one on your forearm.

in the end. it’s worth all the beaches that this pretty-little-world has to offer.

and that darling, is a reality i most definitely believe in.

Incredible Keen. And if it's the beaches you want, I know one day you will have them.

GENTRI LEE - Featherstone

Two guest posts in a row. I feel legit. I actually have blog friends. This time Gentri Lee will be gracing us with her wonderful taste in music. She also is a pro blogger. Anyone visiting from Gentri's blog, I am sorry it is not as cool as Gentri's. I am trying. Anyways, without further ado, here is Gentri Lee.

Hello Aaron's blog!

My name is Gentri and I blog over at Gentri Lee. My blog is about... well, me. I usually write about my adventures with daily life, adventures with not so daily life, fashion, and sometimes I throw in crafts and recipes (success or fail).

I also love to post about what inspires me. Whether that be something someone else posted about, someone else's blog in general, spiritual inspiration, or even musical...

Aaron asked me to share a song that I'm loving at the moment and why I love it. Well, I know he just shared this one, but it's my current favorite. AND let's be honest- I'm the reason Aaron knows about it. haha! So first, have a listen (and take a look). Because it may just change your life.


Amazing right?! I love this song so much. It makes me feel like anything is possible, like adventure could be waiting around every corner. I am already picturing my next road trip with this song blaring through my speakers. haha!

I LOVE music and get so excited when I find a new artist that I can't get enough of. So tell me, what's a song or artist you're loving right now??

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love for you to stop by my blog anytime and say hi! Meeting new blog friends is one of my favorite things. And thank you Aaron for letting me guest post!

Love,
Gentri

Thank you Gentri Lee, for your amazing taste in music and being you!

EMMA K. - Weighty Ghost

I am very honored to have the wonderful and youthful Emma K. guest posting. She owns the title of the very first guest post on this blog. Please follow here over at her blog prettymuchalmost.

Take it away Emma K.

Hello, readers of this here blog. My name is Emma and I'm from the blog Follow Me to Happiness. It's a quaint little place if you care to stop by sometime. As for me, I'm an English major who loves baking, Jane Austen, and a good BBC period drama. I'm just trying to figure out life one moment at a time. Seeing as I feel like Aaron has much more experience than me in this thing called life, I feel very honored to be posting today.

Aaron threw me the idea of guest posting a while ago, and I decided it would be something new and exciting, so I eagerly awaited the assignment. Then he sent me a FB message telling me that he thought it would be cool if I listened to a song then wrote about what I think it's saying about life and I stopped in my tracks. Maybe I couldn't do this. But then I began listening to the song he sent over and reading over all the lyrics, and I decided I would give it a stab in the dark. So here is that stab.

The song is Weighty Ghost by Wintersleep. I had never heard to song before, but when I pulled it up, I instantly fell in love; then I really listened to the lyrics and I got a bit confused. Then I listened again, read again, repeated this about five times, stared at my computer, told Aaron I was working on the post, stared at my computer, listened again, and really began writing. Let's just say it took a long time for me to decide what this song meant to me.

As I listened to the song, I realized it was a perfect song for those days in life, when you just... well, you just can't really understand what has been going on with you lately. Here's an example from my life- it happened on Monday. I was on Facebook and noticed that a boy was on. The thing is, this wasn't just like a boy who I could chat and be like, "Hey Chum! How ya doing this fine winter day?! ;)" First off, I don't use wink faces. Second, this boy was a boy I had really hurt and so it was hard for me to talk to him, but it was also hard (much harder I know) for him to start talking to me. As I stared at his name on the screen, I realized, that I wasn't the same person I used to be. It was one of those moments when I just felt like posting as my status, "Has anybody seen the Emma who really cares about everyone and just wants to make people happy? She apparently became a ghost."

I feel that's exactly what the song means. It's about waking up and realizing the person you were is gone, for good or for bad. And sometimes, like the last verse says, we just want to be left alone with our body and the ghost of ourselves gone. And sometimes, we just want that ghost to come back home to us.

I'm realizing more and more that it's ok to have our ghost gone for a little while. It's ok to be wandering around figuring out what we need, on our own, with no one's surgery and messy fixing of things. It's ok to say, where is that person that I used to know? Because if there's anything that I've learned in life, it's that it's ok to be wrong, and to not know where you going, and to figure it all out. It's ok to be lost for a little bit, because eventually, you and your ghost will reunite in a way that's much better for both of you. And that's what life is about, improving.

Love always,

Ems

Thank you Emma K. I hope everyone is now looking for their ghost.

Aching for my heart like some tin man.

I am excited for the guest posts this week from some of my blogger friends Gentri Lee, Keen, and Emma K. I wanted to experiment with something so I asked each of them to write about a song that they are diggin' as of late. I thought I would start off the series of guest post with my own thoughts on a song.

Stable Song - Gregory Alan Isakov

I have to thank Keen for introducing me to the great Gregory Alan Isakov. He is truly brilliant. The first time I heard this song it took me to a place, I can't tell if that place was somewhere in the past or somewhere in the future. I just remember the place, that's all.

It was under a tree somewhere out in the countryside. There was a barn in the distance. It was a mild June day. I was sitting under this tree with some girl, who it was I do not know, your guess is as good as mine. I knew her though in this place. We had memories and futures together. Age wasn't important. Time didn't exist under this tree. It was just us. It consumed everything.

The song ended too quickly and I realized reality again. I was back to where I was when the song started, sitting the library with no progress on my math homework and realizing I had been staring out the window for ten minutes. All I had was this place.

You know, music has a way of taking you places you never could of imagined by yourself. This song is the perfect example for me. Who knows what it will mean to me a year, two years, ten from now? For now, it's sitting under a tree with her, who consumes my periphery when I close my eyes and hear this song. I don't know who she is. I don't even know what she looks like. I see her somehow though.

And maybe this will be a song that will foretell something about my future or explain something about my past. I don't know. I do think though that it is showing me something that I truly want. Someday, I hope I find her, whoever she is. And when I do, our songs will be just like prayers.

And so in the meantime...

"Come down, come down. Sweet Reverence. Unto my simple house and ring... and ring." - Gregory Alan Isakov

Under a tree,

A romanced mumbler.

Big things

Good things coming this week. Hope you all enjoy... Mysteries. They keep me awake. I hope they sing you to sleep. Don't let me become too wrapped up in myself. Stop the things I am becoming. Help. Help me make sense of non sense. Oh I look forward to the words which will come this week.

Anticipate!

EXPECT!!!

wisdom....

Christmas in Watauga

Yes, this is the obligatory holiday post. The one about the joys and lows of the Christmas season and after standing in line forever at a Target in Hillsboro, Oregon, all I can think is about how ready I am for every store to return to norm.

I was reminded of my favorite Christmas tonight as we had the missionaries over for desert and a Christmas message (if you are wondering what I am talking about with the whole missionary business click HERE). It was that kind of Christmas where you remember everything about the day. From the moment you wake up to the moment your head hits the pillow. I remember it so clearly.

I was a full time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I was serving in the Fort Worth Texas area, but for the specifics of the story, I was living in a small apt in North Richland Hills and serving the Watauga Ward. My comp was Elder Bunch (I called him Badunkabunch for kicks). The night before we had pulled our mattresses out into the front room to sleep by our 2.5 or 3 foot tall Christmas tree. Our families had so lovingly sent us present via the U.S. postal service. I got a sweet Volcom tie from my brother, it was nice. The best present was that we got to call home. I remember that phone call home. I found out she had a boyfriend which would explain the stoppage of letters. Kind of a bummer to find out on Christmas, could of ruined it. But it didn't, that's how good of Christmas this was.

We headed to the park to meet up with the rest of the zone for a great Christmas lunch/dinner. We played football. I did mighty fine for being the QB. I kept throwin' up prayers to Elder Scott (I could have been a foreshadowing of Tim Tebow, just sayin'). We laughed and enjoyed each other and all the good things of season because our purpose that season was to only preach about the good things.

I keep on thinking of why that Christmas was so great. Nothing magnificent happened. It was simple. Maybe that is what made it so great. I wasn't distracted about what to get everyone, what to ask for, what to expect, what I should be feeling. No, that year it was all gone. There was zero time to think about myself and the greatest desire I had to was to see other people happy. To realize the reason for the season. To just serve. To give. That's all I wanted that Christmas.

We get so caught up in the good intentions of Christmas, oo caught up in the festivities and the celebration that we forget that the whole reason for the occasion is to remind us of the One who gave us everything, including life. And when I try to align my desire for the season with the reason for the season, Christmas takes on something totally different than lights and carols. Something other than department stores and home made cookies. It becomes this state of mind. The kind I wish I always had, even in July. The state of mind where my desire is the happiness of others.

And so when Christmas rolls around and things seem to be turning out like this...

If you start to realize that true happiness is never really about you. Christmas becomes simple. And even when you have to run two miles through airport terminals and board your plane soaked in sweat just trying to get home in one piece, when you eat too much holiday junk, when all the lights won't turn on on the Christmas tree, when you find out that the girl you are in love with has a boyfriend and you are a thousand miles away in the Lonestar State plugging away day in and day out to try and do what you feel is right in your heart. Yes, even after all that stuff happens. Christmas can't be beat.

Signing Christmas cards anonymously,

The mild and stumbling saint

It was like this at one time.

This video takes me back to the neighborhood days.

I personally believed I grew up in the best neighborhood in the world. We had our little gang and it was expected that once everyone got home from school, we headed outside to play football or pretend we were in the Army. We even had our own chain of command (if you must know, I was the Colonel). Life was simple back then, peacefully simple. Yet we all wanted to grow up. We wanted to be like the big kids. We wanted to feel cool, we wanted the world.

Well, we grew up. We still are growing up. We moved away, all went down our own path. We all found our personal vices. I stayed up thinking about all the things that ruined us. Drugs, sex, ego, alcohol, pride. Maybe if we knew what awaited us in our older years, maybe we would have wanted to keep that bubble in tact just a little bit longer.

The one good thing is that we still are that little gang from the neighborhood. We look out for each other and check in. And as we are getting married and starting families, I hope my kids view their childhood like I viewed mine. I hope it's like the song posted. I hope it's remembered like paper kites.

Laughing,

The little boy inside me.

P.S. Thanks to Gentri Lee for directing me to this amazing music video. She is also a pro blogger. No joke, half the world follows her blog. Check out what all the buzz is about HERE.

Come this time next year.

Just finished finals. Procrastination was a consistent theme over the past couple of weeks but I didn't let it get the best of me, for the most part anyways. After staying up intermittently writing a paper and drifting off to good tunes, I finished my paper and let my eyes give into the temptation of sleep, rest, rejuvenation. It wasn't enough. I laid there thinking of what awaiting me in mere hours. The dawn came early than expected. I wandered through the day dazed yet focused. Only to come home and collapse from exhaustion. My twin bed in the corner welcomes me with open arms. And considering all this craziness of the last couple weeks, I'd do it over again a million times rather than be where I was this time last year.

I can't really describe what happened other than the house of cards I had built in my head collapsed. The lights just went out. I just lost it. My days soon became a nightmare to go through. Fear gripped my body like a plague. I dropped out of life. Day became night and night became day to me. The only time I could calm down was in the quiet of the middle of the night, when the whole world was asleep. I would just sit and enjoy the fact that my mind had slowed down and that I could just breath. I went home for Christmas but I was a wreck. I couldn't enjoy anything about the holiday season. I was broken. A scratched record on repeat. I died for a little while. Whatever good was in my life had disappeared and I turned into a ghost. An aimless, starving, searching, worrying, lamenting ghost.

Every day sounded like this...

At this time last year I was certain that this misery was here to stay. This was the hand I was dealt. Some people having the blessing of living a happy and blessed life. Others are given the trial to suffer and have faith that there is some purpose in it. I was certain I was the latter. It was just my lot. Happiness wasn't was God had in mind for me, He had something else and I had no say in the matter.

You know it's weird some of the peculiar things you remember during certain times in your life. Last December I specifically remember just standing in the shower and staring at the tile wall for what seemed like hours. I would just sit there and think of every possible terrible thing that could happen in life. I would obsess over disaster all day. I woke up exhausted and went to bed exhausted from a mental obstacle course that I would run through over and over again during the day. I also remember the glimpse moments of relief, when the surge of darkness would subside and I could be in the moment. Like going to a trailblazers game with my family, doing a puzzle of Christmas eve, or just knowing that even if everything were to collapse all around me, my family would still be there.

The process was long one, it took months. Those months felt like decades. I had to learn to cope with pain. Not physical pain, but mental, emotional, and spiritual pain. I had to learn to accept it. I had lessons that I needed to learn, truth I needed to experience. Most of all, I had to learn to be grateful for that pain. I needed refinement.

And I learned some important things about God in the process. Some very personal things about me and Him and our relationship. I learned where I stood with Him. I learned what He is really like. All the false ideas I had were erased by His voice. And I started to realize that the grass still grows in the spring, the sun rises even when it's cloudy, and that whatever happens, things work out.

I sit here and am grateful for the fact that this Christmas, I can actually enjoy Christmas. I can laugh without having to worry about it. And that is the best present I can have this year. It's a good Christmas already.

Because every day sounds like this...

And come this time next year, I am gonna appreciate where I'm at. I am not going to put expectations on the future. I'm just gonna let it be.

Letting go,

Little Lion Man

Forever Mirrors.

I had an experience Tuesday morning. It was one of those experience where I saw my life was one whole, not a past, present, and future. Not a book with chapters, but for one moment, maybe two, I was able to see the picture of what my life was and was to become. It was quiet, intense, quick, sacred.

Your future becomes a very real when you are shown what the future beholds for you. I saw my future right in front of me, everyone who was to become my future, well mostly everybody. As I peered just for a moment into the door that someone forgot to shut called the future, everything changed. It looked... familiar. Like I knew what was in the room awaiting me in time. I knew the people in there. I knew what they would be to me, what I would be to them. And for that brief few minutes I saw the whole picture in it's entirety. I had seen it before, somewhere. I just forgot what it looked like.

"If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall, then I think we would see the beauty. Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed, like a bowl of oranges. Like a story told by the fault lines and the soil" - Bright Eyes

It was sobering and exciting, heavy and relieving. It made me patient and anxious all at once. I wanted to cry and laugh. But I just sat there and took it all in and tried not to make it more or less than what it really was. I just appreciated it for its own unique nature.

Then the questions came. Is it all just wishful thinking? Is this some hypnosis brought on by years of wishful thinking and unfulfilled desires. Is this from God or something of my own device? Am I fabricating my own experiences? These questions always come after I experience something profound, something hopeful.

And so I asked someone in who's wisdom I trusted. And he answers me this, "What does it matter if it's from God or from your own desires? If you desire good things, then it doesn't matter. That is when you know your will is aligned with God." And then I realized when I was looking in the forever mirrors, I was looking into the heart of God as well as my own. What I wanted is what God intended for me. And I didn't have to question if it was really what I wanted. because there wasn't an option anymore. It wasn't about me anymore. It was about everyone before, here, and to come. It was about everyone except me.

It's about her.

It's about my kids.

It's about my brothers.

It's about my sister.

My Father.

My Mother.

Because I was made to be with them.

That was God's intention all along.

So I kept on walking Tuesday, going about what would be known as just another day. Except I walked a little faster, because for a minute or so that morning, I realized what was before me. I wanted to get there, because I knew what is awaiting me is home.

And so I find myself walking.

And hoping that I find that home sooner than later.

Home bound,

A postcard from the present to the future.

Sometimes Monday Happens.

I wake up before the sun is up and head off to work. My car is dead. It's ok though, I have my room mates truck, which is pretty nice. So I roll around in a truck that is not mine pretending that I am cool and I may have more than a few dollars to my name. It's not true. I am on my way to clean and vacuum the country club, the early morning crew. We are usually done and gone by the time the rich old men show up for breakfast and to talk golf. I put in my ear buds and wander off in my mind as I vacuum crumbs from last night's five course meal.

I am done and I head to class. Good things. I ace my quiz (which was not hard) but I ace it anyways. Then get out of class early. I enjoy laughing with friends in the hallway. I then see another friend and decide to hit up lunch. Supreme personal pan pizza from pizza hut. We talk about the usual thing for a single mormon in their mid twenties. Dating. We complain and lament about the same old things, give answers we have given thousands of times before. We end up passing the blame on somebody else, laugh, and enjoy the fact that we have once again let ourselves off the hook.

Sitting in my required philosophy class. The teacher is rambling on about some issue I really don't bother to know about. I hate generals. They make school almost unbearable. A six page paper on Friday, then a final on Monday. Just cramming my mind with issues that don't have any real solutions. I have no power to change it, or at least I don't desire to have the power to change certain things... yet.

The cold is starting to make it hard to breath. I come home to an empty apt. It's on cold days like this I wish I had a Mrs. to come home to, just for the company, just for the love. It will come in time. I have patience that something will work out. I make blueberry pancakes just for the sake of eating something warm. I make the batter thin so they come out like crepes. I feel like I have a special talent for making these pancakes just right. I work on this blog and go fishing for compliments. I enjoy some conversation in the vastness of the internet. I find common ground with strangers. I find common ground with myself. It's a beautiful thing to behold. People can surprise you by their generousity in sharing their thoughts. It's one of the most unselfish things I believe we can share, ourselves.

I am starting to stress. Worrying gets the best of me as I wonder how to accomplish what everyone expects of me and even more, what I expect of myself. Too much, and the Monday night football game is a snoozer. Two losing teams, two reasons not to watch. I put in a movie to make me think. Garden State it is. It's been too long since I have viewed such fine cinema. One line sticks out.

"I'm fine with being unimpressive. I sleep better." - Garden State

I get up to switch my laundry out and it gives. My achilles heel, which happens to be my right knee. I have no clue what happens but it buckles and I fall to the ground like a sack of bricks. My body is giving out long before it is supposed to. I roll around on the ground, wondering how in the world my knee gave out just walking.The pain is so bad I feel like I might vomit but what do I do instead? I laugh. Because it's Monday, my car is dead, I am a janitor, finals are gonna kill me, my knee is swelling up, and I realized I was due for a bad day sometime. Mondays happen.

TGIT (Thank Goodness it's Tuesday)

To a better Tuesday,

A hopeful gimp

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A Sunday prayer.

Here's my heart, Lord.

Take and seal it.

Seal it for Thy courts above.

The Right Reverend

The Right Reverend

A man who is right with God. A man who exemplified God through action, never through words. God is never found in the walks of fame, the riches, the glamour, or the fame of the world. The most grand Creator of all things is found in the humble corners of the soul, of those people who knew their weakness but made no excuse for it. Not for the perfect but the sinner who keeps trying; of those who just want to be good for the sake of being good.

I had a grand father who was those things, he still is. He was the right reverend because he lived the right way of God. Was he perfect? No he wasn't, he would be the first tell you it. The first to admit he was a drunk. Yet, he was man of God.

He saved lives not because he lived some perfect life, but because he used the experience of his mistakes to help and save others. Sometimes we get so caught up on running the straight and narrow path we lose sight of the fact that there are people stumbling next to us on this path. The right reverend never was trying to get to heaven that fast because he knew heaven is about who you get there with, not just the sole fact of getting there. And so he went on walking and taking a minute to talk to the down trodden while some people scoffed at him for taking so long, but he never gave into their criticisms, because he was the right reverend. There is always room for one more, always time for a visit, always a pot of coffee ready for the weary traveler, because the right reverend knew the way heaven really worked. Heaven is a lot like the house on the corner of Russell Avenue, a lot like the Sahara Club, a lot like the old man whistling while playing cards in the corner of the room. If you are in such a rush to find it, you will drive, walk, see right past it.

Yeah, the right reverend showed the right way.

And this is what keeps me up at night sometimes, the thing that strikes me as I look out to the vastness of the great salt lake. Will people say the same thing when they bury my tabernacle down into the mud? Will I leave the earth with footprints or just finger printers smudged on a bathroom mirror? I pray mightily that my death bed will be surrounded by many, not just a machine and regrets. And will people smile when they think of the time we spent together, or will I just be a tombstone? Will I make my family name proud? Will people be able to easily see that I was the grandson of the man known as the Right Reverend? This is written in the back of my bible and spoken on the letters of incessant prayers. That I make good of his legacy. That I keep it alive.

And so I go on, making sure my hands are never too clean to help the downtrodden up off their feet and never too busy to let someone know that it will be alright. Yes, I am not running to salvation. I am doing it one step, one person, one mistake at a time.

And when the black disease comes to my name on his list, if I am surrounded by many instead of a few, then I will hear the words "All is well, All is well"

Throughout all eternity on Russell Ave,

The faithful (at least trying) grandson