Sometimes I wonder how I became a pastor.

Yeah, I know the official story.

I went through CAMS. C-A-M-S. I studied. I worked. I went through the exhorter program. I did what they told me to do.

But then, right before I could take my final test, my son was diagnosed with bone cancer.

And suddenly, that test didn’t matter very much.

I wasn’t leaving my son to go take an exam.

So I waited a year.

The next year came, and because of a miscommunication, I missed it again.

Another year.

Another delay.

Another round of studying because things had changed.

At the time, it felt like life kept getting in the way of ministry.

Looking back, I realize something.

It was the ministry.

God wasn’t keeping me from my education.

He was giving me one.

Sometimes I wonder how I became a chaplain.

Then God starts reminding me.

Back in 2006, there was Grandma Logan.

Colon cancer. Hospice.

Mom and I were there taking care of her.

Then Dad got sick. COPD. His breathing became harder, his world became smaller, and Mom and I took care of him until he passed away.

I was a caregiver for Grandma.

I was a caregiver for Dad.

Then came my son.

Bone cancer.

The very reason I couldn’t take my ministerial exam became another classroom.

No desk. No textbook. No professor.

Just cancer.

Fear.

Prayer.

Hospitals.

Waiting rooms.

And learning how to stand beside somebody you love when you cannot fix what is hurting them.

Years later, I stood in my own church and married that same son to Kaylee.

There were probably 80 to 100 people in that sanctuary.

Love filled the room.

It was beautiful.

Then Kaylee began helping take care of him. As he grew older and matured, he learned to take care of himself.

And then there was Mom.

Mom had been my mother.

Then she became my co-parent, helping me raise my children.

But dementia is a thief.

Little by little, it took pieces of her away.

And somewhere along that road, the woman who had once tucked me into bed became my little girl.

I tucked her in.

I kissed her forehead.

And at night, I would have her repeat the Lord’s Prayer with me—

the same prayer she had taught my children,

the same prayer she had taught me when I was a child.

Life had turned the whole thing around.

The hands that once cared for me were now in my hands.

And I cared for her.

So sometimes I wonder how I became a chaplain.

How I became a pastor.

And then I look backward.

Grandma.

Dad.

My son.

Mom.

Hospice rooms.

Hospital rooms.

Bedrooms.

Deathbeds.

Wedding altars.

Church altars.

And suddenly I can see it.

God had been training me the whole time.

I thought I was being delayed.

God was developing me.

I thought life kept interrupting my ministry.

Life was becoming my ministry.

And now I’m a caretaker for a church.

Because pastors aren’t just preachers.

We’re caretakers.

We take care of bruised souls.

Hurting hearts.

Weak faith.

People who come through the doors carrying wounds nobody else can see.

And we stay with them.

We pray with them.

We preach Jesus to them.

We walk beside them until the bruises begin to fade, the weakness begins to strengthen, and the broken places begin to heal.

Not because the pastor has the power to heal them.

But because Jesus does.

He came to bind up the brokenhearted.

And maybe that’s how I became a pastor.

Maybe that’s how I became a chaplain.

Not because one day somebody handed me a certificate and said,

“Now you’re ready.”

Maybe God had been preparing me for decades.

One bedside at a time.

One broken heart at a time.

One goodbye at a time.

And I didn’t even know I was in school.

Choir sound is different

Over the last year, Keri and I have been working on a choir sound. We got some things, read some things, and went to town on experiments. We got in the garage. We got the closet. We even tried the shower. We just did a job for a cool song from Scotland by Andrew Anderson, coming soon. We feel good about the choir sound now. I wanted to talk concepts about making good choir in your songs.

Disclaimer:

First off, both Keri and I grew up in protestant church choir and that has a lot to do with our sound. We are not trained, we just showed up. My concept of choir might be slightly different than yours if you have never sung at vacation bible school, or a funeral, or a wedding.

If you were a dozen people, it would be really loud.

I learned by placing different mics in different rooms that the nicer mics get to do their thing in large spaces. I found this crucial for making convincing choir tracks. The room had to be bigger than my normal tracking space.

The mic I am currently using for these kinds of tracks is the Myrtle by Ear Trumpet labs. The Myrtle picks up from 3 feet away like nothing. So I put it in a large room, imagining the sound going out in front and not being able to bounce back to the mic. Huge space. Garage works. A hallway gives interesting and notable results. The small insulated room isn’t even usable here. I would have to change mics.

It has to move.

So I have my big space and I set my mic, it never moves through the whole process. But Keri and I move a ton. I have a taped out semi circle, 4 X’s, we’ll take turns. No choir we have done before sounds good up on a smaller mic, standing in the same spot. But the choir tracks have movement and realism if we stand in 4 or 5 different spots. For Andrew, we did 2 groups of 4 spots. Each.

This works for other instruments too. If you play strings, put the cello, bass, viola, and violin, in all different spots. I’d probably just go with a semicircle there too. But you can get a little crazy…

A fabulous way to learn your mics.

Maybe you have a big room with a little closet. Experiment with standing in the closet, facing the room, singing or playing. With the Myrtle, I get very usable sound this way. But I also get it with the SM58 too. Now turn the operation around. Stand in the room, face the closet, see what happens. I think this helps me with mic placement everywhere, just having done it at home. By doing this, I can echolocate places for microphones better. I have a hearing memory of their reaction to different size spaces. Muscle memory is talked about a lot in other jobs.. I use a lot of hearing memory.

Now do it with multiple distances away and to the side of that mic. You might not realize it, but you are building a choir!

Small set up, large space.

Choir tracks need space, an ensemble mic, an iPad, an interface. It is not necessary to try to force tracking at the house when you can borrow a church’s sanctuary to track vocals. We have. We’ve tracked whole live songs in churches too. Tiny donation, they open the doors. The nice mics love it. They can breathe.

Choir coming on The Kintners record out Christmas.

This time we wanted to try at the house since we are recording a double-album ourselves. Andrew got us off our butts about the choir. Glad he did. I think we have it worked out. One less thing to worry about for the record, choir.

Kelly Kintner

The Horses Mouth

The Kintners

Djembe Funk

I posted some time ago about how I was going to start prepping for a 5k running event. Now here I am, weeks later, at the other end of that prep. It went quite well. To be honest, surprisingly well.

Yesterday was the last day of intermittent fasting. This morning was my last run while wearing the weighted vest. I've never done anything like this in my entire life. I don't know if what I've been doing will result in a personal best on race day, but I have to say that I feel quite healthy and fit.

I've been at this point prior to other running events. Just days to go. It is an odd place to be every time. It is the point where no more gains can be made. I will be at the peak. Whatever the outcome of my efforts is meant to be; it will be that.

These prep routines for running events are kind of funny to me. I go into it all knowing that I could train harder, and be faster, if only running was the main focus of my life. I could be on a very strict 5k training plan that has been used, tried and tested, by professional athletes.

As it is though, running prep is not my main focus. I have to find ways to fit it into my life that revolves around doing a very physical, and at times stressful job for 40 hours a week. It consumes more of my waking hours than anything (getting ready, getting there, doing it). It is not easy... but what is, really?

I started to get into fitness just prior to the beginning of COVID restrictions. I told those stories elsewhere in this blog. I never would have started running if the gyms had not closed when they did. I have learned a lot about running over the years. Each year has been different. I kind of view it as a strange skill that I have developed over the last few years. Also a strange knowledge I now have about what my body is physically capable of.

This year I was doing interval runs, and stairmaster, while wearing a 12 pound weighted vest. I had never done this before. I expected it to be hard, and it was. Very hard. I expected weight loss, my legs to become stronger, and my resting heart rate to become lower. Those things happened. Some things happened that were a surprise: Number one would be how my balance has become noticeably better. My upper body strength has increased. It forced me into engaging core muscles, and also forced me into better running form. I can feel that I have increased lung capacity. These things were a surprise, but after thinking about it, they make sense.

Overall I would say that I feel quite good. Race ready. I would also say though, as good as it feels, it is very unnecessary for living daily life. Not only unnecessary but is also, to me anyway, mentally unsustainable. I can be fit and healthy without being race ready.

https://write.as/thingsleftunsaid/event-prep

https://write.as/thingsleftunsaid/running

https://write.as/thingsleftunsaid/fitness

College Football Saturday

If I am home (circumstances may call me away, but let's hope not) and have the option, my first college football game of choice today finds the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers travelling to Bloomington, Indiana, to play the Indiana Hoosiers. The game is scheduled to start at 3:00 PM CDT and good radio pregame coverage should be available an hour earlier. GO HOOSIERS!

And the adventure continues.

At long last, I now have a physical film library again.

In a way.

Going the DVD route is simply not an option for me, as I don't have the space to store that shit. Plus, the constant moving over the past 12 years has put me in the state of mind of thinking twice before adding to my physical possessions (I still maintain a storage unit back in Houston filled with books, comics, zines, records, and I don't even remember what else).

So, with leaning on anything like DVDs or videotapes being out of the question, and being really sick of the subscription-based streaming service model, I opted to go the SSD route. One terabyte dedicated to film. It is presently loaded with 171 titles accounting for a little over 200 gigs. Room for much, much more. Now I just need to get another dedicated drive for TV shows, one for music, and one for books and comics (still prefer physical for those, but not everything I'd like to have in physical form is within reach, plus it'd be a bonus to have a digital copy of all physical books I acquire because I've lost most of my physical belongings at least 3 times in my life and it never hurts to have a backup just in case).

#journal

Our Father Who art in Heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

20 Hours

Russia sees its reward In coming clean at first And time’s original thought Why verses Rome to court Apart as we are Symphonic distress To the notions that be A place in Quispamsis becover And Nuuk across the arc What difficulty Rome In quarts of lethal wonder To the sacristy we kept And Donald never came And stole our world And our share of thoughts to know Cavity to stream Pieces fired anew And Jehovah’s Witnesses came To speak across the road Inefficiency be And Nuuk would go to Rome Beatified at night Thus early cross Fit for dozen wonder Why excessive Kushner For all to fall forget And banking proud To Russia as they saw Greenland across the bay.

Put it To Rest

In today’s better and remain We sought what we all have A night into the aether And legions by the year Hurried to Afghanistan Apparently by rote And Rome And rote And war The efficacy men In letting grass remain And off accustom view Witnessing the trial Men ahead, Ascension Ligatures and light

And who was there for fortune cure Every Justice called to act A year for portmanteau In lucky shares to Telluride

Nothing for suggesting But the ruse I thought you knew Mentality is sinking On this ice and growling sheen Up and coming just this once To be better then and back As a difficult endeavour We sought and we elect

In time Europa kneeling We hug the best at dawn Raoul rather than rather The Earth shall keep us keen While the Taiga at its will For us to row and without flight The licensure in keep Too much vernal but we show And in this crisis might I should Ever after on this cay What good redemption, Peter In a better view and pie

Thought to body ransom Impure to fight to loss Renewing what is spoken To the court and country worth

Oxygen to wherewithal Standing fortress by the board In between our haught appeal Roads to roses, then and for

Isn’t limelight for the limited As a day in Holy curfew We ascended to the Trinity In this day alight to shore And the mercy we extended All our neighbours Sultan row No more laughter but in daylight No duress, my Doukhobor

Maybe set and in discretion Digitalis on the Moon My redemption has no Heaven But to you, my God above

And in this peace of Ferdinand We obsessed with what we have Inner order and of strength This to wherefore by the sea

Intonating every know-how Fresh to bloom in cotton air I can see my city running Golden lava, just to there.

Kim (part 7)

Four fires to the Ocean We can seek the Holy ground And nights appear Ron and Ron respect This day of interstition Waking days by tone The World is watching We do this until dusk Pretensions of joy And Rome will reappear As Scotland and unseen Though between these doors Made for all respect Of If I the big in World And as for ten We speak to the Chinese Why to this prefigure The Russians have a think On high and in due course The lights alone And to this mayhem, a crowd We are due in December,- for a child The King of courage change We fight in this pretest A thousand notes of home To flights Koryo Atlanta and the sun We appease the Lord And find that I am near In days of Summer last An omen such as this That we were made to be Korea A task – solely ours Reneging to the States And Apple will believe In our better constitution For these times I arrive What portend we silence But the view to Satin Grove Nights be this,– a prayer to better men Assorted trust And to the stars ascending Royalty is due.

There were days of must-be-able Thoughts of better grace In time, one was born The sure and makefire to believe Accosting no-one but a graph In deals to this group- Fit for the better of Rome Let’s let this peace renew our vow Accomplice to the extra For great esteem and the love of night Fortune mend rebate Our evidence is clear- Tears for six people of the cloth- who must be laughing at Vladimir Patience is code and known as our lot The sympathy of this great leader,- and mercy to be known that In even-time,- we will solidify our view And just as the day end,- in our path,- Europe awaits,- and as we are,- the next view.

While revising one of the essays on method, a question emerged that felt larger than the editing itself.

Which sentence is the defining sentence?

Literary criticism often looks for one. The sentence that unlocks the piece. The sentence from which everything else follows. The sentence that resolves the argument and allows the essay to close neatly upon itself.

There is elegance in that approach. But I find myself increasingly resistant to it.

It's a question of focus – here are a few words I scribbled in the margin: I think at this point I don't want the piece to have a clarity of focus – I want a vagueness to it – that encourages the reader to explore, perhaps to define for themselves – I don't want to close the circle in that way – I know that literary critics would see that as elegant, but a pedestrican crossing is more than stripes on the tarmac.

Yes the image that came to mind was a pedestrian crossing.

A critic might look at a pedestrian crossing and see a successful arrangement of white stripes on tarmac. They might admire the geometry, the symmetry, or the way each stripe contributes to the overall design.

Yet a pedestrian crossing is more than stripes on the road. It may even have lights. It is an invitation to cross. A convention shared by drivers and pedestrians. A piece of civic infrastructure. A relationship between risk and trust. The visible part is not one thing, and it's not the whole thing.

I am trying to construct my essays to work in a similar way. Readers rarely leave carrying away an entire argument. More often they carry fragments. A phrase. An image. A question. A way of looking; perhaps even an adjusted disposition.

One reader may remember: Dig where you stand. Another may remember: The contradiction remains interesting. Someone else may carry away: The argument can wait.

I am not convinced that any one of these must become the master key to the others. Readers bring themselves to the page. They are not all some idealized type.

The temptation to identify a single defining sentence is really a temptation to close the circle. To say: this is what the essay is about. Yet some essays are less concerned with bringing a reader to a destination than equipping them for a journey. Perhaps essays do not always need a centre. Perhaps they need landmarks.

A landmark is not the destination. Nor does it prescribe a route. It helps someone orient themselves within a larger landscape. That thought seems increasingly important to my own practice. I am less interested in delivering conclusions than in offering navigation tools.

A useful essay may not tell a reader where to go next. It may simply help them recognise where they are standing. And from there, they can decide the direction for themselves. David Marshall Flic en Flac, Mauritius

Publicat la 6 septembrie 2011

Pe vremea când încă mai primeam mașinuțe, eram cu părinții în vizită la o fostă profesoară universitară a mamei mele. Nu eram ca Dl. Goe, așa că ei nu-și făceau griji că aș putea face ceva rău (asta s-a întâmplat într-o altă vizită). Din locul în care mă jucam, am auzit-o pe doamna profesoară povestindu-le cu mândrie părinților mei un episod aproape de neconceput la acea vreme. Fiul ei, student la acea vreme, mirat că profesorul său îl tot apostrofa pe un alt student, a îndrăznit să i se adreseze astfel:

„Hey, teacher, leave the kid alone!”

Ați recunoscut, probabil, unul dintre faimoasele versuri ale nu mai puțin faimoasei piese Another Brick in the Wall, de pe excepționalul album The Wall, al formației rock Pink Floyd.

Era primul meu contact cu Pink Floyd.

Și încă nu venise Revoluția!

Doamna profesoară locuia la Timișoara. Aveau să treacă ani buni până la libertatea de exprimare. Iar în decembrie ’89, tocmai de acolo avea să înceapă prăbușirea zidului care ne înconjura viețile.

Dar acel prim contact a fost atât de puternic — sunt tentat să fac o analogie tehnică, dar mă abțin — încât, de fiecare dată când ascult Pink Floyd, mă trec fiorii sau mi se face pielea de găină…

Coincidență sau nu, primul album Pink Floyd pe care l-am avut a fost The Wall, înregistrat pe o casetă BASF de 90 de minute!

Între timp, l-am oferit unui vecin adolescent, cu gusturi muzicale în formare…

Mai poate fi o coincidență faptul că avatarul meu preferat este o secvență din Comfortably Numb, cu Bob Geldof într-un fotoliu?

Cred că nu!

De fapt, avatarul acesta avea să-mi fie de folos mult mai târziu, după desființarea comunității ascultătorilor Virgin Radio. Împrăștiați care-ncotro, ne-am regăsit, totuși, câțiva dintre noi.

La un moment dat, cineva mi-a spus că mi-a recunoscut avatarul și că și-a dat seama că eram chiar eu, nu altcineva.

Și nici nu era de mirare.

Fotografia fusese făcută în 2007, la Budapesta, la concertul lui Roger Waters, The Dark Side of the Moon — spectacol care avea să includă și episoade din The Wall.

Așa că, dacă primul meu contact cu Pink Floyd a fost o voce auzită cu mult timp înainte de Revoluție, iar primul album a fost The Wall, poate că avatarul acela nu era chiar o simplă coincidență.

Poate că era doar o altă cărămidă din zid.

Publicat la 6 august 2011

Ieri am primit un email prin care unul dintre „contactele” mele mă avertiza că este periculos să deschid un email având un anumit subiect — aparent o actualizare de software.

Deoarece contul respectiv de email îl verific destul de rar, m-am gândit că avertismentul ar putea fi tardiv. Astfel, aș fi putut deschide emailul cu pricina, primit în contul de email pe care îl folosesc mai des, înainte să fi fost pus în gardă. Este puțin probabil să se fi întâmplat chiar așa ceva, dar mă gândeam la posibilitatea asta, în general, nu neapărat la situația mea.

Dacă utilizatorul — experimentat, aș zice — citește cu atenție titlul emailului, își poate da seama că actualizarea respectivă nu se referă la un program pe care îl are instalat pe calculator. Este vorba despre o aplicație online a firmei care i-a furnizat și sistemul de operare. Actualizarea se face fără intervenția utilizatorului, așa că citirea emailului este inutilă, ba chiar periculoasă, după cum suntem avertizați.

Văzând o listă întreagă de adrese de email — am numărat peste 50, printre care multe ale unor persoane pe care nu le cunosc — m-am întrebat care o fi, de fapt, scopul acestor mesaje.

Protecția unui cont de email nu depinde doar de utilizator. Serviciul de email are propriile filtre care încearcă să detecteze mesajele suspecte, iar programele de securitate de pe calculator mai adaugă și ele un strat de protecție. Dar, până la urmă, mai există și utilizatorul, care poate apăsa pe un link tocmai pentru că mesajul pare suficient de convingător.

Cel mai probabil, lista aceea lungă de adrese putea fi rezultatul neglijenței expeditorului. Sau poate că cineva care are nevoie de asemenea liste ar putea profita foarte bine de o asemenea neglijență. Dacă ai nevoie, din diverse motive, de o listă de adrese de email, trebuie să plătești pentru ea. Și cum o poți obține fără să plătești?

Îți avertizezi prietenii să nu deschidă un email foarte periculos care circulă pe web!

Este foarte probabil să se întoarcă destul de repede o listă mai stufoasă decât cea pe care ai trimis-o tu.

Calea către iad este pavată cu bune intenții.

Desigur, nu știm dacă acesta era motivul pentru care mesajul fusese trimis. Poate era pur și simplu o încercare bine intenționată de a-i avertiza pe ceilalți.

Și pentru că vorbeam de o lungă listă de adrese de email, am mai observat că, în anumite situații, emailurile trimise unui număr atât de mare de destinatari ajung direct în folderul Spam, de unde este foarte probabil să nu fie citite. Astfel, inițiativa — lăudabilă, poate — de a-ți salva prietenii ajunge să fie ignorată „din oficiu”…

Cel mai bine, într-o asemenea situație, ar fi ca mesajul să fie trimis fiecărui prieten în parte. Asta înseamnă, desigur, un consum mai mare de timp.

La un moment dat s-ar putea chiar să te plictisești să trimiți atâtea mesaje…

Așa e când ai o mulțime de prieteni!

Dar oare toți îți sunt prieteni adevărați? Pe toți vrei să-i salvezi? Ce-ar fi să încercăm să facem o selecție? Una serioasă!

Oare cu câți prieteni adevărați am rămâne?

Dar asta este un alt subiect, așa că nu îl dezvolt mai mult decât am făcut-o deja…

În fine, cred că cel mai adecvat comportament în ceea ce privește emailurile nesolicitate este un pic de reținere.

Dacă mesajul ne este adresat și îl așteptăm, verificăm expeditorul și conținutul. Dacă nu îl așteptăm, chiar dacă pare să vină de la cineva cunoscut, este bine să fim precauți.

Dacă nu cunoaștem expeditorul, cu atât mai mult.

Dacă mesajul nu ne este adresat și nu cunoaștem nici expeditorul, îl ignorăm.

Iar dacă vreunul dintre mesajele de mai sus a ajuns în Inbox, îl putem declara Spam. Dosarul cu mesaje de acest fel se golește, de obicei, automat, dar nu se supără nimeni dacă îl mai golim și noi din când în când.

Publicat la 4 august 2011

DSPS/D (Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome/Disorder) – sindromul/dereglarea fazei de somn întârziate – este o dereglare/întârziere a ritmului circadian al unei persoane. Dacă subiectul nu are un program de respectat (școala, serviciul), aș spune că un program de somn decalat față de cel al semenilor cu un program de zi (de la 9 la 5) nu reprezintă o problemă.

Situația se complică doar atunci când trebuie să se trezească înainte de a-și fi terminat cele 8 ore de somn pentru a respecta programul impus de societate.

Este ca și cum ceasul biologic ar fi rămas în urmă cu două-trei ore față de ceasul social.

Eu am această dereglare de la sfârșitul adolescenței. Mă întreb oare dacă mi-aș putea regla bioritmul (ritmul circadian) schimbându-mi domiciliul cu două fusuri orare spre apus…

Dar, cum nu mi-am propus să fac această schimbare, îndrăznesc să îi întreb pe cei ce citesc această postare și s-au confruntat cu o astfel de problemă. Știu că probabilitatea este extrem de mică, dar nu mă costă nimic să lansez întrebarea. Să fie acesta motivul pentru care nu am plecat în vest până acum? ;–)

Vorbind de probabilități, 3 persoane din 2000 au această problemă. Dintre cele peste douăzeci de milioane de vorbitori de limbă română, mulți sunt copii, mulți nu au acces la internet, iar dintre cei cu acces la internet puțini sunt interesați de această postare, iar în sfârșit, dintre cei din urmă, câți să aibă acest tip de dereglare?

În fine, chiar dacă aș reuși să îmi reglez bioritmul astfel încât să mă regăsesc printre ceilalți 1997 cu un ritm circadian normal, trebuie să fac față și unei alte probleme: dereglarea datorată muncii în schimburi/ture: SWSD (Shift Work Sleep Disorder)… Dar după atâția ani de lucru în ture, aș spune că nu e chiar rău! Problemele diverse rămân totuși pe tapet…

• Notă, 2026: În textul de mai sus am pornit de la o statistică de 1,5 persoane la 1.000, pe care am transformat-o în 3 persoane la 2.000 pentru a putea face mai ușor calculul probabilistic din postare. Între timp, am avut și ocazia să-mi verific într-un fel întrebarea despre fusul orar. Am petrecut o lună la New York, la aproximativ șapte fusuri orare spre vest de România. Cu toate acestea, continuam să adorm în jurul orei 3 și să mă trezesc dimineața târziu, în jurul orei 11. Dacă mai putem spune că 11 AM este dimineață… Experiența nu este, desigur, un experiment științific, dar este un mic răspuns personal la întrebarea pe care mi-o puneam în 2011.*