When I fall apart under stress it looks like this:

• I become disillusioned with everything: with myself, with others, faith, etc. My cynicism which is often held at bay takes over. It’s hard to remain motivated.
• I get tired.
• I do not look for help; in fact, I probably avoid it. I tell myself it’s not good for me to show signs of weakness due to stress. Because then, I say, others will have to be inconvenienced.
• I do not think clearly or do my best work.
• I do not have courageous compassion for others.

Despite its sexist premise (it’s the other woman’s fault this man can’t honor his commitment?) and its dubious backstory (is he really the ‘only man’ for you if he would dump you for a soft-spoken ginger?), Jolene really is the best song ever written.

It’s a masterclass in leaving you wanting more. The simple and elegant chord progression moves so pleasingly under the clever but natural rhymes of the verses, but just enough to give you a taste for more. I wish there were twelve more verses.

But ultimately, it’s the naked pathos of one woman pleading with another to have pity. She has no other resources left; she’s arrived at her last resort: begging. Her happiness depends on Jolene and what she decides to do…and we never find out.

I have a feeling that many Americans will be going to the polls without a lot of passion for their candidate. You know, the whole ‘lesser of two evils’ idea. I have to confess that I am not exactly passionate about the candidate I’ll be voting for.

But let me offer another motivation for voting: survival. No, not mine – as a white man, the American system already has a lot of momentum towards protecting my interests. I’ll be using my vote to help preserve others.

We have a candidate who has consistently – in his life, in his campaign, and in his suggested policies – discriminated against, diminished, and endangered the lives of people of color, women, Muslims, immigrants, refugees, people with disabilities, and those he simply considers ‘losers.’ He has been endorsed by numerous white supremacist, nativist, and anti-Semitic groups that have never before endorsed a major candidate. Behind him are people who believe we would be ‘great again’ by controlling and diminishing the lives of certain classes of humans.

For the sake of those fellow humans, cast your vote accordingly. No, we aren’t there yet, but despite his bleak, autocratic vision of the country, we could actually live up to the unfulfilled promise we started with that we are stronger when we not only tolerate but embrace the tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free. That we will be a better nation because of the free contributions of those who have been previously enslaved and destroyed because of fear. That real ‘greatness’ will come not from looking back toward a time of greater domination, but forward to a time of greater love.

Even if you aren’t completely smitten with your candidate, be passionate about that when you go to the polls. And vote accordingly.

There once was a man who had a neighbor. The neighbor invited him to a great party. Food was shared. Everyone cared for each other and the man went home happy. He was surprised that the next week, his neighbor invited him over for another great party. He attended again and loved it again. The third week in a row, the neighbor invited the man to the party and the man became suspicious. “How can he afford to throw so many parties? Perhaps he is trying to trick us into doing something. I’ll not go. Besides, I’m tired of parties.”

But the man noticed that week after week, the neighbor continued to throw parties for whoever came. Often there were people there he did not recognize. Week after week, the neighbor invited him to parties. The man pitied his neighbor and started calling him names behind his back.

Then one day, the man took sick, lost his job, and could not afford to buy himself food. When his neighbor invited him to the party, he thought to himself, “what choice do I have? Besides, I want to see whether the parties are any good anymore.” When the man joined the party he found food and neighbors caring for each other just as he did at the first party. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he had been wrong about the neighbor.

Without anything to contribute, the man asked his neighbor how he could help. “You can’t,” he said, but instead gave him all the leftovers from the meal. “It’s too much,” said the man. The neighbor simply said, “Then, that’s how you can help.”

When you make music, you call up a lot of ghosts. American music no less than any other.

This country may be new, but its people are ancient. When you play its music, you’re responsible – if not to them, then for them.

If your melody waxes nostalgic for Dixie, then your words better talk the ghosts down.

• “The more, the merrier.”
• “Be my guest.”
• “No offense, but …”
• “It’s not a threat; it’s a promise.”
• “No pun intended.”
• “Nothing to see here, folks.”
• “This hurts me more than it hurts you.”
• “People always ask me …”
• “I’m not a racist, but …”
• “Not to brag, but …”
• “Well, I’m sorry that you …”
• “… literally …”

Clay Shirkey banned laptops in class even though he is a proponent of technology. But distraction is like secondhand smoke: it hurts us and the group. Our basic urges follow distraction down rabbit holes before we even have time to stop it. He now seems himself working together with students against these tendencies by banning devices.

Attention is precious in our faith. The church should also work together, when appropriate, to limit distraction without demonizing technology.

My mom recently told me that when I was born, she sincerely prayed for me to have to particular qualities that would help me in my life.

It’s funny because when my son was born, I also felt a deep desire to pray for something in particular for Henry. It’s hard to want something for someone who will have to eventually become his own person. I agree with Merlin Mann that the absolute best you can do for your child is allow them to be messed up in their own way. So I worry: if I pray for Henry to be calm, is it just because I don’t like noise? If I pray for him to be artistic, am I already trying to live vicariously through him?

So here’s my prayer as I hold him in the hospital. I want him to know depth. I believe the world and every part of it is deep. I want him to just know that whatever he stands on, there are tectonic layers and plates stretching through time and space and all resting on a molten core that infinitely provides energy for everything he does.

As much as I can avoid passing along fears, inadequacies, and all sorts of shortcomings, I want him to know that deep down, underneath his own quirks, that he is not alone. That there is a richness to the soil he is planted in and to never stop drawing from it.

When I was pretty young I read an article in Guitar Player about Richie Havens. Thirty years after the world saw him in the film Woodstock, he was still touring the country and playing threehundredsomething shows a year. You gotta respect the work ethic, but for someone who had been around for a while with many albums under his belt and connections with various organizations…why would he continue to tour almost nonstop?

A couple years later, I was working stage crew in Clearwater and Richie Havens was playing. Before he went on, somehow he found out that my friend Jeff and I were fans. I guess it touched him that he had fans that were only like 15 years old. He closed the door to the greenroom and played a couple songs. For an audience of two. I figured out how he could keep up his touring schedule: he just loved to share the music.

I thought about this story about two days ago. Richie Havens died today. If that sounds like a coincidence, it’s not. I think about this story about once a week anyways. Probably always will.