And the book says, “We may be through with the past, but the past is not through with us!”

***

Because I am a being of such extraordinary habit, because I am profoundly stuck in my ways like a tire in a rut of dirt road, because I laugh too loud and say bad words occasionally and lose my temper at other drivers; because of all this, I know that the prospect of personal change is a loose, ever-changing, ever-shifting concept.  A concept  that I can’t wrangle, that I can’t get my hands around; a concept that stands in direct opposition to my habits, to the person I am, to the sum total of near-30 years that is represented every time I open my mouth or answer an e-mail.

Every year, on December 31st, with a past year still clanging about in my synapses, I drink champagne and toast the arrival of something new, something different.  I shift my gaze upward, to a cold sky charged with the unknown, and say, to myself, something along the lines of…

this year’s going to be different.

***

I didn’t do that this year.  I stayed at a cabin with dear friends and band mates, and read the entirety of Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent, and reflected on the last year, and let the realization wash over me like an unexpected rogue wave: this was a pretty good year.

Good things happened this year.  I began an employment shift that took me from “playing dodgeball with petulant pre-teens” to “being a paid part of a creative musical community”. I rode a blue and gold train from Anchorage to Seward, Alaska with a woman who I can’t believe I ever tricked into marrying me.  I bought and renovated a house, put paint on the walls and doors on the hinges, and through it, rediscovered the joy of community, as countless friends poured through our doors and contributed to making this house our home.

I finished the Northern District EP (more on that later).  I saw friends and loved ones healed of emotional turmoil.  I connected with a mentor who poured life and direction into me.  I got rid of some addictions, embraced a certain kind of sobriety that opened up the truth of Christ to me, and met some people who reminded me of Me From Three Years Ago.

In short, 2009 was Sacred Ground to me.  I kept my figurative shoes off for most of it, and approached each month like it was a burning bush.

***

Take your shoes off; this is holy ground
Like a windmill, let it spin you ‘round
So in step with the breath of heaven
We might not come down
So take your shoes off; this is holy ground

This is holy ground…

In the middle of our darkest night
My parents woke me with the bedroom light
Said “pack your stuff up, keep your mouth shut
Leave it all behind”
In the middle of our darkest night

Leave your shoes in a pile by the door
Leave your shoes in a pile by the door
Leave your shoes in a pile by the door
We’ll be with each other in a pile by the door

A pile by the door…

I was nervous; I was 22
You slept for four months in my living room
And I waited, oh so patient
For your lips to move
When I was nervous, and I was 22

***

The point is, I will not be making resolutions this year.  There is an inward change taking place, and it’s subtler and smaller than anything I could describe.  Like the Honorable Thomas Merton said, “My only desire is to give myself completely to the action of this infinite love Who is God, Who demands to transform me into Himself secretly, darkly, in simplicity, in a way that has no drama about it and is infinitely beyond everything spectacular and astonishing, so is its significance and power.”

***

For this recording, the part of “Rachel Higuera” was played by Tyler Madsen; hopefully R. Higuera will understand.

We sat in my living room and talked about the year, and wrote this together, and tried hard to keep our distance from the tiny Macbook mic, so as to avoid the sum parts of our voices shorting out the entire operation.  Like moths to a flame, we found ourselves subconsciously drawing nearer and nearer to the computer; we were like directionless helicopters, hovering and hollering into something considerably smaller than ourselves.

***

Let’s talk about this EP, which is now streaming, as we speak, over at http://anonymousrecordings.com/northerndistrict.  It will be available in digital form within a week or two; the lovely, handmade physical copies are available, for $5, at our shows and by contacting us through the magical medium of Facebook.

Be blessed, practice grace, banish cynicism, and show love in all situations.