I can’t get this thought out of my head and it has been several weeks at this point. I was thinking out about life and the gospel and love as my dad and I stood at the kitchen counter. I realize that many of the memorable conversations I have had with my parents have taken place here as we snacked on the things my mom will left out purposefully so that my dad or I will take care of the leftovers. It was here as dad and I talked… and now I can’t put my finger on exactly what—life the gospel and love just about sums it up. But perhaps the content wasn’t the most impactful part of the talk. I had said something as I was probably processing out loud, like I do along with many extroverts. And then dad said I was an artist.
Now I believe in the power of a spoken word to enact a reality shifting response. I think this is why books that seek to give people tools or a philosophy to better do this sort of thing in the world are among my favorites. Teachers teach by dumping voluminous amounts of information but the power of teaching I believe comes in the saturation students do for themselves in this information. This information about any subject matter has the potential to change or to shift how we see as people. And so my dad is someone I am sure at times in my journey I have tried to please in an effort to gain approval but mostly I am reminded of a time when I was telling him of a race I had just won and he stopped me to say, “I loved you be for you did any of this.” Powerful and instructive right? In other words, “David, my love is not conditioned by what you do, it is first conditioned by who you are and that is my son, the one I love.” So this artist talk has me feeling a bit commissioned. Like my dad knows me better than most.
I have never been the person who imagined earning a living creating some song or score that was terribly ‘artistic’. But I think my mind works like an artist’s. And I have made things but only seen them as a necessary part of expressing how I think. So my songs blur the lines of reality and metaphor because that is how I see the world, I can’t help it. So as I think on my dad’s observation and as I survey my story in this airport terminal at five in the morning I am willing to experience a shift that just may release me anew to dream up beauty and connectedness in the daily wondering tides of these days.
