I Have to Remember III
And now for an even more unexpected third installation of a theme that I had no intentions to write about.
I have to remember that the smoke beckons and bellows from the thrown of men and devils. I have to remember that I’ve come far enough to know that I don’t need to run away from who I’ve become. I don’t have to inhale a cloud of mysticism, myth, ritual, or spirit. I have to remember that my body has become a dwelling place and that I’ve no need to clear the air of the presence that occupies the room.
Drug culture is a dangerous culture. Cigarettes are shepherds and Marijuana is the gate wide and welcoming. Clad in a Lofi view and hours of beautiful music.
I have to remember that I don’t need to run away; for from what there is to run, I have already.
I Have to Remember II
As I was coming to this screen to type these words, I thought about what I wanted to say. What kept coming to mind was, “I have to remember”. I knew that I was wrote something about that recently, but I couldn’t help but believe there was something else that was written since then.
Either Way.
I have to remember that my call was something greater than just to be a musician. I have to remember that I wasn’t called to be the greatest singer. I have to remember that I wasn’t called to be the greatest piano player—that I wasn’t supposed to alway express the most sweet-delicious-luscious harmonies that would make some of my favorite artists say, “That guy knows what he’s doing!”.
“…To be a minstrel in the courts of the Most High…” a Levite of sorts. I am to accurately and passionately declare the Gospel. It just so happens to be that my medium is music. Regardless of how I spin the record, write the words, or reharmonize the chord, it will always come back to the Gospel.
I Have to Remember
I dreamed that my grandmother laid moments away from death. She had her arms spread out wide as if she were free-falling or in flight. She was smiling, and as the sounds in the space centered to a silent swelling point, I heard her say. “Praise God!”. There was a flash of light, and her body was taken. All that was left was this strange stone cast or something like a reverse impression. The eye of the right side of her face was fixed on me with a red gleam in it, but she was gone.
Since I started working from home my sleep schedule has been awful. Particularly this holiday season, I’m struggling. It easily becomes more than just not sleeping. It translates into lonely hour of no human activity while you’re stuck in a room in the middle of a dreary Dallas suburban home after everyone has gone to sleep.
Regretting things. Considering things. Wishing things.
it’s been miserable, but worse things have been before. I have to remember how bad it can be. I have to remember the consistent coughing up of phlegm due to my poor choices. I have to remember that my decisions are not other people’s, and that my faith is not equal to my religious practice.
I’m not who I was ten years ago any more, and it shows.