Since this is a platform first for my business, I try to keep spiritual/political/inflammatory things from here. I typically fail in an epic sort of way. However, as many of you saw on the sociable networkings this week, I — a soon to be twenty-five-year-old man — came down with THE SHINGLES. I capitalize it so it feels like crappy horror film from the forties.

I’ll spare you the details and the complaining.

INSTEAD

I’m posting lyrics from a song I discovered this weekend. Sharing it for four reasons.

  1. It refreshed my soul when I was down and if we can’t share what moves us, then what are we doing?
  2. The 20th Century Poetry post was well-received by some newcomers, and I think the last half of this song does some interesting things poetically as far as song lyrics go. The first half’s not that great, but it’s necessary to set up the end.
  3. Last year, I changed the subtitle of this blog to “Crossing Every Threshold.” Though you all will one day find out how that fits into my novels, I try to cross the lines people put up to divide one another. I’m not talking about petty edginess or rebellion. I just know all kinds of people and care about all kinds of things. Under that assumption, this is just one more threshold for us to walk across together. You might be surprised at what you find.
  4. I typically care little for this band, but for songs like this we have a song-lyric book market. I’ll save the band name till the end:

(On form: I recognize that the punctuation, capitalization and spacing are interpretive moves, but I think I treated their work with respect).

Oh my God
look around this place.
Your fingers reach around the bone
you set the break, you set the tone
flights of grace and future falls
in present pain, all fools say
Oh my God

Oh my God
Why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don’t bleed–
there is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again
or fake your death and only tell
your closest friend
Oh my God

Oh my God
can I complain?
You take away my firm believe
and graft my soul upon your grief,
weddings, boats and alibis
all drift away and a mother cries:

Liars and fools, sons and failures,
thieves will always say…

lost and found, ailing wanderers
healers always say…

whores and angels, men with problems
leavers always say…

broken-hearted, separated
orphans always say…

war creators, racial haters
preachers always say…

distant fathers, fallen warriors
givers always say…

pilgrim sings, lonely widows
users always say…

fearful mothers, watchful doubters
saviors always say:

Sometimes I cannot forgive,
these days mercy cuts so deep.
If the world was how it should be
maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay I dream we’re better–
scales were gone and faces lighter.
When we wake we hate our brother,
we still move to hurt each other.
Sometimes I can close my eyes and
all the fear that keeps me silent
falls below my heavy breathing.
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder,
we all feel the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded
that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip I
wonder what to make of heaven
all the times I thought to reach up,
all the times I had to give.
Babies underneath their beds,
hospitals that cannot treat ‘em,
all the wounds that money causes,
all the comforts of cathedrals,
all the cries of thirsty children—
this is our inheritance.

All the rage of watching mothers—
this is our greatest defense:

Oh my God, Oh my God,
Oh my God.

Lyrics from “Oh My God” on Gather and Build. For those disinterested in that, here’s a consolation prize from xkcd:

READ NEXT:  The Power of Rhyme

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  1. logankstewart

    From this posts title I thought immediately of the Jars of Clay song. It’s one of my favorites from the band, especially the latter part, once it starts building up to the crescendo. I’m not sure what this “Gather and Build” album is, though. I first heard the song on “Good Monsters.” I enjoy most of Jars of Clay’s large catalog, especially their older stuff, so thanks for the heads-up to this remixed album.

    As for SHINGLES, my mom has had it for many, many years. She gets excruciating sores on her face and I’m reminded of the plagues from Exodus whenever they flair up for her. That said, I’m sorry for your diagnosis and I know (vicariously) what you’re going through. All the best as you fight your fight against it.

    Well said, as always. If we can’t share what moves us, then indeed, what are we doing?

  2. lanceschaubert

    Gather and Build’s a sampler, and yes, it was first on Good Monsters apparently. Glad you like it.

    Thanks for the sympathy and well-wishes. I hope to kick this stuff by the end of the week, but who knows.

    Exactly. That’s what impulsive pastimes are for!

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

Please comment & share with friends how you prefer to share:

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