The Academy Awards were held last Sunday night.  This is a night when people all over the world tune in to see who the academy deems “best.”   There are awards for almost every category imaginable from technology to music to script writing/adaptation.  I, like many teen/middle age girls/women, like seeing the “movie stars” all together in one room.  The fashion.  The ego.  The botox.  It really is a spectacle.

I usually get caught up in cheering for my favorite film to pummel all of the other worthless ones.  But this year was different.  I have only seen a few movies in the last year and out of this years nominees, I did not have a favorite.   This granted me a new perspective.  I just watched neutrally.  And my thoughts went from, “it must be amazing to win an Oscar!” to “what is it like to work so hard, be nominated, then lose?”  Well, it all depends on your definition of…

Success.  Recently, I have been learning that how we define success has a larger impact on our lives that just about any other definition.  For example, the question: “did you have a successful day?”   For someone with a terminal illness, success is seeing the morning.  For a CEO, it’s profitability and productivity.  For a person serving meals at a homeless shelter, it’s one less person that will go to bed hungry.

It is not my intention to insinuate that certain definitions are right and certain ones are wrong.  But many times the way we define success in our hearts doesn’t end up being the way we define it with our lives.  Too often my definition involves what others think about me or my actions.  In the case of the Oscars, do I realize that just being nominated is an honor that most (99.99%) will never know?  Or do I dwell on the fact that I was not chosen?  Am I only a success if I win?  Whose approval am I trying to win?  Why do I care?

As an artist or creative or human being, our definition of success is enormous.  My question for you (and me) is: what’s your definition of success?  are you staying true to living and working in that?  how can we stay there/get back to there?

Good luck…I’m right there with you…

-lewis

This week, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the struggles of patience, while also embracing the beauty found when slowing down.

Today I want to share with you two albums that have helped me embrace the act of slowing.  The first is Brian Eno’s “Music for Airports” and the second are two pieces from Arvo Pärt’s composition “Alina”.  A little background:  Brian Eno is an artist, composer, producer (known by many for his production contributions helping shape the sounds of artists including U2 and Coldplay.  In addition, Brian Eno also has a history in multiple genres (pop/rock/classical) known as a fore-father of the ambient music genre.  Arvo Pärt is a German composer known for his contributions to the classical genre of music known as minimalism.

Both of these albums are instrumental, and both move very slowly.  Each album focuses on less notes serving as a meditation on these few notes (as opposed to music that is continually going different places).  The peaceful resonance in these albums take me to a place where I begin to enjoy being still and embrace slowing down.  These compositions help me acknowledge the importance of the space between two notes and resonance of sound.  When listening to these albums, I find that patience can actually be an enjoyable experience.

So when you have a moment, take some time to hear several of these pieces.  You don’t have to hear the whole album at once.  Just be still and listen for a few minutes.  It’s my hope that you are able to find the joy of slowing down and the peace found while patiently listening to this music.

Have a great weekend!

-jonathan
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If you read yesterday’s post, you know that I recently watched the film Into Great Silence, but was not too successful in my viewing of it.

Here is the trailer just in case you missed it yesterday.

Today I am going to address the two questions I left when finishing the last post.

Why was it so difficult to sit still and observe the monks of the Carthusian Monastery?

I think the answer to this question is simple and obvious, and my guess is that many of you will identify.  It was difficult to sit through this film because I have difficulty with the discipline of “SLOWING”.  It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do, patience is a task that is usually required in your life.  For me, the past year has taught me many lessons about patience.  (In fact,  a few months ago, I wrote another post visiting this topic.)  I am thankful for these lessons, but nevertheless, I still struggle waiting on a red light, or wanting my last hour at work to finish in warp speed.    I want my food fast,  and my internet hi-speed.  I can give you the cliché answer saying that society shapes our worldview, leading us to oftentimes neglect patience and long for expedience.  But, the bottom line is that I became really excited when I found an iPhone app where I could order prescription medicine from my phone without having to take the time to call the pharmacy.  Do you identify with me?

So did I completely miss the beauty of this documentary?

Fortunately, the answer to this is NO.  While I had many instances of distraction in this  film.  I did have several moments of profound observation.  Watching this film, I was struck by the natural beauty the monks had surrounding them: the untrampled snow, the soft natural light that filled each room of the monastery, the quiet content of the faces of the monks, slowly and patiently performing each day’s tasks.

One of my favorite things I enjoyed was the way the silence of the documentary allowed me to reflect on each sound happening in each scene:  the movement of feet, the air moving outside, the resonance of the bells and echoes of the monk’s chants.  These are things I would usually overlook in my busybody day.

So, in summary, in the midst of distraction, I believe this film reminded me of something very important:  Patience, the act of waiting, the process of slowing down, can actually be a wonderful experience filled with quiet grace.  I was reminded to not just to enjoy the notes of a song, but to enjoy the space between each note.

As a creative, how can we use the act of slowness and patience to our advantage.  How can we use the space between notes to convey truth and beauty?

Over the past week I decided to watch a documentary called, Into Great Silence.  This film was the project of one man who visited a specific monastery in the French Alps known as the Grand Chartreuse.  The monastery is not open to the public, and the monks spend the majority of their time in prayer for the Church and humanity.  In fact, there are only a few select times in the weeks and months, where the monks are permitted to converse with each other.

With this information in mind, I was very intrigued.   I was excited and ready to watch this almost three hour documentary, hoping to catch a glimpse of how these monks spend each of their days.  I heard that the documentary shows footage of life in the monastary, and with the exception of a few conversations and liturgical chants, the majority of the film has no speaking.  This didn’t matter to me…I wanted to peer into this monastical world.  Not to mention, critically, I had only heard tremendous things about this film.  I was ready to see what this documentary was all about.

Unfortunately, my watching of this film was not very successful.  For the first 15 minutes of this documentary, I sat still, fascinated by the quiet peace the monks lived in.  After about 15 minutes passed, I stopped to take care of something else.  Returned to the film…became distracted by my iPhone….watched more of the film…fell asleep.  Started the film the next day…became distracted by the iPhone…fell asleep again.  Today, finally with 20 minutes left, I made every effort to sit still and watch this film, and for the most part my viewing of the last 20 minutes was successful…well, pretty successful.

So, why was watching this film so difficult?  Watching these monks take each day with such peaceful, quiet, conviction….    Not to mention, I also learned that the director had to wait for 16 years before the monks gave permission for him to film at the monastery!  For the director, the entire process took 21 years!  I had a hard time sitting still for 21 minutes.   So, I ask myself this question again…Why is it so difficult to sit still and observe the monks of the Carthusian Monastery?  Did I completely miss the beauty of this documentary?

These are questions I’ll address tomorrow in my next post.  In the meantime, you can check the trailer below.

-jonathan

Today, our Hi-Fi Friday recommendation is quite timely. On this the day that would have been the 78th birthday of Johnny Cash, we focus on his posthumous release, American VI. Released just this past Tuesday, American VI features some of the last recordings Cash made before his death in 2003. These songs serve as the last words from the man with a mythology larger than the physical stature he was known for.

American VI is really not the record I anticipated. I thought it might be full of songs of sorrow related to the death of his wife, June Carter Cash, months before these recordings. It was a pleasant discovery to find these songs full of hope and redemption. Songs that represent a man coming to terms with life. Songs that show a man ready to join his maker in Heaven.

While I don’t think this is my favorite of the American series, it is a nice final chapter to what has been one of the grandest regenerations of an artist that our time has seen. I’m hoping this really is the last release in this series. There isn’t a better way to go out.

-Zach

Growing up, I was a huge fan of contemporary Christian music (CCM). I loved CCM radio and loved the idea of Christian music and the fact that you could minister while creating great music. I had my favorite artists like everyone does. There were the ones who consistently put out great music and the others that were just hit or miss. For me, if it played on WAY-FM here in Nashville, I probably would listen to it.

Around 14, I attended a day of Christian music at Opryland, the wonderful theme park here in Nashville that was replaced by a horrid shopping mall, much to everyone’s chagrin. During that day, I listened to one of those artists that I’d catch on WAY-FM frequently. I sat through his set and loved it! After the performance, I stood in line to have him autograph the Z-TV flyer that I’d picked up somewhere in the park (CCM fans will remember Z-TV as the MTV of Christian Music). I never owned his music, but I always loved what I’d heard on the radio.

Flash forward to a few months ago. I’m rummaging through a used music store and I stumble upon both of the records by the artist that I’d met that day at Opryland. I knew I had to get them. I promptly listened and reminisced about what I thought were the glory days of Christian music. I kinda got to wondering what he was up to these days, long forgotten by the industry that gave him 15 minutes of fame so long ago. A quick Google search turned up a Twitter account with his name. I found that he’s no longer doing music, but now teaching and coaching basketball. I shot a tweet at him just to tell him I was a fan and that I loved his music. We exchanged a few messages back and forth. Nothing special, but still an awesome thing to me.

I somehow have to think that my words of gratitude all these years later had to have meant something to him. I think they probably did. Those songs made an impact in my life and spurred me on in my faith. Those songs were strong reminders of the young Christian I was at the time. But really, I’m still that young Christian, needing to hear those songs that encourage me in my walk.

- Zach

Tiger Woods.  Heard of him?  He plays golf.  He’s won quite a few tournaments.  He’s been called the best in the world.  And in the last 3 months his off-the-course actions have cause a media firestorm.  Mistresses, affairs and numerous other accounts of self indulgence—all of this while being married to a former Swedish bikini model who is the mother of his 2 children.  How could he?  Why would he?

Last week Tiger spoke publicly for the first time since all of his actions came to light.  His words took a little over 13 minutes.  His expression was blank and his delivery was stoic and rehearsed.   He expressed his regret for his actions and repeatedly asked for forgiveness from his fans and his sponsors. You could probably say that it was what you might expect.  What surprised me most about this event was not the speech itself, but the onslaught of scrutiny from the media that immediately followed.

As soon as the speech was finished, I began seeing headlines from news organizations, talk shows and blog and twitter posts about how insincere Tiger’s apology was.  He was labeled “robotic” and “cold.”  Again, the stones of cynicism and criticism were thrown.  Judgment was laid down.   The most disturbing part to me is that it almost seemed to be expected.

But why?  Could it be that the media knows our underlying insecurities, so they actually assist us in pointing fingers?  Let’s be honest, the comparison game can go a long way when you’re dealing with a Tiger-like scenario.  But the truth is that each of us struggle.  Each of us have acted in ways that we are glad no one knows about.  So why not respond with understanding and compassion?

There were voices of compassion for Tiger.  I saw many encouraging words and well wishes from individuals after his apology.  Lightfield is one of these voices.  Lightfield wants to provide an environment where all are viewed with humanity and compassion.  It doesn’t excuse everything; it just offers hope in the midst of anything.   So let’s unite behind hope, not cynicism.

-lewis

This week I wanted to feature Patty Griffin’s newest release “Downtown Church.”    I was introduced to Patty’s music while studying music at Belmont University.   After 10 years, her recordings and concerts remain some of my favorites so, needless to say, I was really excited about the release of a new album.  Then when I found out that Patty had decided to make a gospel album and record it at the Downtown Presbyterian Church in Nashville, TN….oh, this is going to be good!

and it is…!

I love the collaboration on this album.  Almost every track features artists who have joined Griffin on background vocals.  These performances provide a small, soulful choir.  Many of the voices we have come to know on Griffin’s recordings including Buddy Miller and Emmylou Harris.

Do I really need to talk about how Griffin’s vocals were made for gospel?  Between the timbre and range of her voice and her ability to squeeze every ounce out of the meaning of a song, you would think she was created to sing gospel.  And maybe she was.  The mood of this album is like walking home from your best friend’s funeral after having shared a long, full life together.  Only instead of sidewalks, you walk down the aisles of an enormous cathedral while the deep vibrations of these songs surround you.  It’s sad.  It’s hopeful.  It resonates.  It takes you somewhere.

I hope that you will let it to take YOU somewhere.  listen below…and enjoy!

-lewis

Obscurity is no virtue in modern society. It is often met with contempt, and I would argue that simply living in this modern world creates some desire to buck obscurity. Why else is Facebook the second-most visited website in the entire world (second only to Google)? It is a chance to tell people who you are, even when no one has asked.

There is no better proof of this distaste for obscurity than the forms of entertainment it has created. What began with “The Gong Show” more than 30 years ago is now an entire industry of reality-based television, allowing “every-day” people to be famous for a moment because they can play a giant harmonica in a pair of over-sized denim overalls or because they have the will-power to eat a bucket of scorpions. YouTube has further contributed to this phenomenon by allowing anyone to upload a personal video about anything at all, regardless of public interest. Even Shakespeare wrote about this phenomenon, though I wonder if he ever imagined anything like this.

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite aspects of the Olympics is the unknown world the athletes live in prior to the games. Olympians are the most gifted athletes in the world, and with a few exceptions aside, live entirely under the radar. They train to grueling schedules for years leading up to the games, only to compete for a few moments of Olympic glory. It is the purest pursuit of athletic achievement possible.

This fact leads to some really honest fandom, too. So many pro athletes live a tabloid journalist’s dream, the public choosing to feed off the person’s baggage rather than their talent (the same can be said for musicians, actors, politicians and all kinds of public figures). With Olympians, however, the junk is filtered out, giving the public nothing to muse over but talent. It also allows the athletes to prepare without the intrusion of a nosey public. Their path is often filled with such struggle that even the lifestyle journalism recorded on the athletes focuses on points of inspiration, not gossip. In a way, it’s the last truly private way to be a public figure.

If you doubt this, consider Tiger Woods. The world’s best golfer was once noted for his privacy yet golf ratings soared, thanks to fans who wanted to see what the best looked like. Now that his personal life is front and center, I guarantee the general public would now rather see him fail when he returns to golf because his private life and public suffering is now more interesting than his professional achievement.

I can’t help but believe this holds true for artists. If the world’s best athletes become the best through private discipline, then artists would certainly thrive from a measure of privacy. Art becomes more daring, envelopes get pushed and very good creative things happen. Imagine how empowered an artist would feel if he or she could hone their skills under the guidance of a master instructor rather than the failure-hungry general public? We have no idea because popular culture does not support this model of development.

Additionally, imagine how freely and boldly an artist will create if he or she didn’t feel the need to constantly exhibit their art. I’m not saying an artist shouldn’t share their art, but the easy-access platform of YouTube, MySpace, Facebook and such opens the door to easy cynicism and criticism. Mocking YouTubers is a sport unto itself—just read the comments below a video. If artist’s allowed themselves more privacy, they might find a dimensioned need for validation and create art more freely. This might not hold true for everyone, but I know I would benefit from caring less about my peer’s opinions. Just a thought.

The Way of Obscurity, it seems, is a narrow path, traveled only by the most disciplined of people. I say we let these few travel this path in peace.

-Whit

I do not like sports, a fact that I have shared with many people for many years, often at risk of my alienation from the many sports-crazed men with whom I’ve worked, traveled, and communed. This, also, is a lie. The honest truth is that I like sports, but long ago grew disenchanted by the continual decline of the athlete roll model and by the way so many fans take it all so personally. Simply put, sports ceased to be fun.

The Olympics, on the other hand, are something entirely different. I find the Olympics to be terribly exciting for three reasons. First, I love how every participating country is equal in the eyes of the Olympics. It seems that this is the only time democracies, monarchies and dictatorships alike can set politics aside and share in a common goal. Second, the athletes themselves are largely unknown to the general public yet for 16 days, they are rock stars to their respective countries. This simple contrast to the realm of professional sports allows for pure fandom and for honest recognition of my next point. Lastly, I find the sheer talent and fearlessness of these athletes inspiring. There is not a single event, in the Winter Games in particular, where there is not some degree of danger or risk. Some events are downright scary, yet the athletes toe the line between recklessness and precision as if it were the only thing they knew how to do.

So what do the Olympics have to do with Lightfield? I’ll tell you tomorrow.

-Whit