to what is new, and yet, has always been
i know not from where You have come
but I will not question
i am not sure how a lone soul can breathe this essence
but It is strong, and physical, and It passes through me with wild joy
i wish i could understand
but ultimately, the search for understanding may diminish the wonder
and so I simply receive, blissfully, without the clarity that tends to
shove me from the road of forward motion
doorsflyopenlightsflareandfiresmokerises
and suddenly, it is not about the door
nor, about the way it may be opened
for there is
bright
Light.
-jn
It’s 4 AM. I haven’t sold my chametz.
This time of year is always really good for me. I like (read: crave) the arrival of the spring, and look forward to everything that comes along with it.
When I was a little kid, spring really meant March and the beginning of spring training. The arrival of pitchers and catchers meant April would come soon, and April was only a month away from May, which in turn was only a couple weeks away from June 15, which was generally the day school let out for summer vacation. I actually remember charging through the doors of my elementary school, bursting out onto the playground and shouting “I’m free! I’m free!”
It’s a funny memory to have every year, since I generally spend some time around this season thinking about the nature of freedom.
On a personal level, this past year hasn’t been so easy. I’m not quite sure how I arrived at this particular point in my life. I am sure, though, that walking through the proverbial desert has clearly brought me closer to the man I want to be… I just need to know how to find my way home. (I keep looking for Charlton Heston to guide me, but he never seems to show up...).
In some ways, we are all lost in the desert… we search and we seek, hoping for a sign of something more. I suppose this is simply the nature of being, of hoping. The desert itself may look different every time we encounter it, but it’s always there, regardless. The desert, to put it lightly, isn’t easy.
Recently, a friend suggested that I start keeping a journal in order to find some clarity. It was a really good call. Here’s a little Pesach Manifesto:
I’m free. I’m not going to be a slave to expectations.
I’m free. I’m not going to compromise my individuality.
I’m free. I’m not going to let society’s sense of aesthetic determine my own.
I’m free. I’m not going to be afraid to be vulnerable.
I’m free. I’m not going to be afraid of walking into the water.
On some level, life is simply about living this blessing we call self-determination.
Easy or not, we all have the chance to sow the seeds of inner-truth. We ultimately have the power of choice; Pesach is all about seizing that choice and living a life that’s reflective of the miracles we’ve each been blessed to encounter. Redemption itself is not found at a seder table. Rather, the seder reflects on the miracle that is redemption… and on all the other miracles that have graced our personal journeys. Redemption is internal. It’s already inside you and me and each of us, waiting...
May we gain wisdom in our lives, and live lives that honor and respect the essence of the Shechinah that shines within us all.
Avadim hayinu, Atah b’nei chorin.
Once we were slaves. Now we are free.
Chag sameach, and a zisn Pesach.
-jn
Today’s work day involved sitting around and watching footage from a soon-to-be-released JNP live concert DVD.
(Sometimes I can’t believe this is a real job.)
Here are some random thoughts that popped into my head during the viewing:
- Alex is grooving.
- Michelle and Jesse are really bringing it.
- Rob is just ridiculously good.
- All that time I spent learning to dance more subtly with the pedal board has paid off.
- That tiny little scar on my lip looks like the Grand Canyon in HD.
- What am I DOING with that piano? Oh. That’s what I’m doing.
- The Killers are either going to love this or hate this.
- I do not quite have moves like Jagger.
- That said, I aspire to have moves like Keith Richards anyway.
- I should get Adam Levine to sing a hook on a track.
But then…
- Oy.
Some note, somewhere, in some tune, a mistake…
I was totally bummed until it dawned on me: the small mistake ultimately made the whole aesthetic experience better.
The mistake is live. It’s real. It’s human.
Maybe the mistakes are little reminders of our humanity?
Ken y’hi ratzon. May it be Gd’s will.
Here’s a clip from the show. Have a sweet Shabbat.
-jn
Life’s been crazy lately. In
the midst, I have been thinking about tikkun
olam in a markedly different way.
My take: “We” are all forgetting to think of ourselves in the “collective
we.” We’re divided, subdivided and compartmentalized. We no longer identify as
a part of a greater whole. We are broken and fractured as a community.
You want to fix the world? Need a place to start?
Bring people together, even if it’s one or two at a time.
Let them share a powerful, meaningful experience; it may be the
first one they’ve had in a long time. Do it without pretense, without pomp, and
without a holier-than-thou attitude. Let it be transparent, and only focus on
the experience itself. Forget agendas. It’s not about becoming, doing or
giving. It’s about having the experience. It is, quite literally, all in the
moment.
Connect in a space that feels comfortable, unpretentious, and
safe. Feel good to be there. Take care
of each other; we all deserve it. Create an atmosphere that’s genuine. Take
away illusion, and go for what’s real, actual, and honest.
Once all the armor is off, and all the barriers have fallen away…
that’s when amazing things can happen.
I believe this. And I believe in this.
The WarehouseNYC. Shabbat.
March 16. Tammany Hall, NYC.
-jn
Me and my tired fingers have been home for a couple days, but I'm still in recovery after last weekend's whirlwind run through Columbus, OH and Houston, TX. I’ve been experiencing exhaustion and adrenaline in equal amounts, but I’m incredibly happy about the weekend; beautiful Shabbat services and a smoking show on Sunday.
I’ve been thinking a lot about an interesting thing that happened during the Houston show…
Halfway through the second song, I break a string on the PRS. I play around it, and get through the song without a D. So, I look down to grab a spare… and suddenly realize that I've left my extra strings in the green room. Instantly, I’m stuck, and know I’m playing the whole show on an acoustic guitar.
I pick up the Martin and, without a second to try to figure out how I’m going to pull this off, launch into Ayzehu. (Note: I run an A/B box in front of my pedal board that flips my setup between the acoustic and electric guitars). I lift my foot to kick in some delay under the first verse… and suddenly realize I’m patched into the electric rig while playing an acoustic guitar. Oy. I mentally play out four scenarios in the space of a quarter note, and having not a bit of choice in the matter, drop my foot…
and it’s awesome.
So different, and totally unexpected. Unexpected like when you reach for a glass of water, and accidentally pick up a glass of soda. The first sip is crazy, but then your brain kicks in and says… “Dude... it’s Dr. Brown’s.”
I played a wildly different show on guitar, even taking some electric-esque solos with the acoustic running through an entirely unintended chain of effects. These were sounds I NEVER would have intentionally created, but they were what I had available… and so I spent ninety minutes painting sound with an unfamiliar and refreshingly new palette of colors.
It was freeing, and liberating, and just damn inspiring. And, it felt really, really good.
Today’s footnote: Don’t fear being pushed out of your comfort zone. Good times may, indeed, ensue.
