I held on as tightly as You held onto me.

I can’t get past my relationship with trees.  I live in a house made of what used to be trees.  The bed I sleep in was fashioned from a tree, bought by some great grandparent of mine.  All of my guitars and drums were once strong trees, birch, maple, spruce, ash.  The living trees of my city build a canopy over my head, starting from the time I walk down the (wooden) steps of my home and step onto the ground, where the leaves all crunch when I step on them.  Down the street, lined with cottonwoods and aspens, across an intersection of busy cars.  Trees don’t get near the train track, but as I cross over it, looking both ways out of habit, I wonder what it looked like here before trains and people cut into the landscape to build this city.  The trees stretch over my head as I keep walking and cross the oval, three old rows of different species that stood still through two world wars.

 

Putting out my pipe, I step onto a campus boldly self-proclaimed as “green”.  I don’t think we know anything about green, we think green means turning off the lights when we leave the house.  I think green is a color.  I also think green is beautiful, and smells like summer, and looks like when I was ten or so, planting rows of little pine trees with my dad somewhere in Elbert County, Colorado, by a house he built for us to live in.  I wonder how many of those trees are still alive.   This thought process brought to you by Patrick Watson and the Cinematic Orchestra.  Listen to “To Build a Home”.  ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjjc59FgUpg ) Then listen to it again.  Then call me and we’ll cry and talk about it.

 

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed it’s knees

By the cracks of his skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me

 

I think God put more of his character into trees than we realize.  They don’t move from season to season, they don’t stop being there.  We stop noticing them, but trees are the houses we live in, the chairs we sit in, the beds we sleep in, the tables we eat on.  In spring they bloom or release cotton to fill the air and glow in the afternoon sun.  All summer they grow green, we climb in them, and they give us shade.  In fall they light up and glow a different color on their way to winter.  Then they paint themselves white and sleep in colorlessness until spring.  Like God, we see them differently as we go from season to season, but we don’t see them move, so we don’t always think about them.  We only notice them when they signify the changing seasons.  Oh, notice your God, climb to to top of the tree.  When the wind comes to blow you down, hold on as tightly as He held on to you.

Love Is Only For Poets.

My blogging has been lacking at best lately.  All I’ve got for you tonight is a list of fantastic music I’ve been listening to lately.  The list is album, band. 

 

1. “On Your Side” by Magnet
2. “Oracular Spectacular” by MGMT
3. “Your Love Never Fails” by Chris Quilala, Kim Walker, and Melissa How 
4. “Catch For Us The Foxes” by mewithoutYou
5. “Close To Paradise” by Patrick Watson
6. “Fall” EP by Jon Foreman

 

This is the music that’s provided the soundtrack to the last couple weeks.  ”Your Love Never Fails” might be one of the most sincere, moving, and most creative worship albums I’ve heard.  Kim Walker is amazing and her music gives me chills.