In fact, one of the main things that keeps me from throwing things out is an idea that most people would classify as fantasy. I imagine that hundreds of years from now, archaeologists with amazing new technologies will be able to go through the things I’ve kept, and reconstruct an intensely vivid picture of the 21st century. This makes me hesitant to even throw out things like receipts, or sometimes, pebbles that have somehow made it into my possession. I mean, they can tell where the Shroud of Turin has travelled by analyzing pollen samples, so why not keep a record of my life in small flakes of rock?

Today, I’ve been going through a lot of my stuff, and getting rid of things. And having to wrestle with what exactly is okay to get rid of has made me realize there are quite different types of mementos. Here are some of them:

Objects with character. These are usually related to an intense memory, maybe of an amazing night with friends, maybe of a trip across the country – maybe we stopped at a weird gas station, and one of us happened to see something strange, and pick it up. Maybe we had a conversation about it, maybe we told jokes, maybe that object just reminds me of those people or that place. This object then becomes a kind of totem, accessing memories I wouldn’t otherwise be able to pull up. Some of my collection includes a rock that is shaped like an appearance of the Virgin Mary, a golf ball stained by lake water (we hiked into the middle of a lake to find this one), and an Alabama-themed garter from a friend’s wedding, that I kept hanging around my rearview mirror for years.

A small gift from someone. These usually come with some guilt – I wouldn’t necessarily hang on to this thing, but I’d feel like I was cutting out a small piece of our relationship if I were to get rid of it. These are hard for me to let go of, especially if it was from someone I am no longer around. I’m becoming better at this, however. If the object doesn’t fall into the category of “objects with character” as well, then I am more and more able to let this stuff go.

A record of my past. These things don’t have any special meaning to me, but they record an event I may or may not remember. As such, they might be useful in reconstructing when I did a specific thing, went to a specific place, or met a specific person. These are things like movie tickets and receipts and business cards. It’s dumb, but I have gas station receipts from years ago, recording trips I don’t even recall. My new way of dealing with this is to photograph them, so I keep the record, and then throw the physical item away.

The best overall approach I’ve discovered so far is to ruthlessly segment this stuff, based on why and how I value it. I get ziplock bags, write something like “ticket stubs” or “receipts” on each one, and then isolate each type of thing.

This allows me to easily see the things I need to get rid of, easily store the things I still want to keep, and photograph or record any information I’m trying to preserve.

For years I’ve had boxes of these “mementos”, collecting dust and doing nothing for me. But when I separate them out, I’ve discovered that most of them fall into the third category, small things that I held on to in order to record what I was doing. By separating everything by its use, I’m able to deal with each item most efficiently, and it’s making a huge difference.

I’m getting closer to minimalism every day.

One moment in particular stood out to me. In the middle of the one of the most intense scenes, Jacob angrily says that if Edward had stayed away for six more months, Bella would have forgotten about him, falling completely in love with Jacob.

Twilight fans would no doubt argue the accuracy of that prediction, but I think it makes sense. I’ve seen many people (like Bella) in the middle of obsessive and unhealthy relationships, and without space to breath, they are never able to get enough separation to get a glimpse of the reality around them. They stay stuck in a world and a relationship collapsing in on itself, cutting off more and more people and possibilities as time goes on.

But given enough separation, the fog of that relationship is able to clear, and they begin to see things more clearly. Unfortunately, that’s rarely given the chance to happen.

In the movie, Bella’s friends and family feel her pulling away from them, sinking into the darkness of obsession – and they try to get her to get some space. But Bella can’t and won’t. She knows what she wants, and she won’t stop to consider any other possibilities. And so everyone – to varying degrees – loses her.

But what about those six months?

If things had turned out different, if she had been given another six months of separation from Edward, she might have begun to see things differently. Jacob, the character embodying light and life, would have probably finally drawn her attention, and her life would have veered in a very different direction.

Down one path, she ended up giving up most of her relationships, and even her very life, to pursue this ever-deepening obsession with Edward. Down the other path, she could have resurfaced in a vibrant relationship with Jacob that would draw her friends and family more fully into her life.

And the only difference was six months.

When I saw this played out in the movie, it struck me how much our decisions really matter. The things we say and do today have consequences and effects that spiral outward from us, toppling things we cherish, building up things we never expected. Marriage, divorce, life and death, obsession and distance, each are ultimately determined on tiny decisions and small moments.

It is frightening, but right now, you have the power to radically change the next 80 years of someone’s life. And you don’t even know how to control this power.

Don’t be scared. But think. And think hard.

There are places above the sky that I need to be. There are parts of this universe that seem meant for us to explore.

And I think that we will, that our lives will stretch out in front of us, and we will continue outward and upward into the vastness.

I’m a long way from this becoming a reality. My car needs a key to start it, my house needs a key in order for me to get back in, and places of business want me to pay them using something tangible – like cash or a debit card. But I have made a lot of progress.

To start with, I don’t carry a wallet. Instead, I use a rubber band or Ouchless hairband (these work great!) to wrap up a couple of cards in my back pocket. It’s so much slimmer than a wallet, and it encourages me to think hard about what I actually carry back there. Most days I carry two cards – my ID and my debit card. Today is unusual, and for some reason I happen to be carrying an insurance card and a My Panera card.

How do I get away with so few cards? Prioritize – and cheat. Ninety percent of the time I’m away from the house, the only card I need is my debit card. My driver’s license, on the other hand, is pretty essential for legal reasons – even though I almost never need it.

But the rest of my cards can be tossed. Kroger Plus card? I memorize the phone number it’s linked to. I can type it in at the register, and never scan a thing. Library card? I store the number in my phone – the librarians will happily forgo using the physical item. In fact, now that I’ve got an iPhone, I can store an unlimited number of barcodes, and pull them up as I need to. I use the myWallet app for this purpose. Even places that don’t provide you a handy member number usually allow you to access your membership info through some other means – like the driver’s license you’re already carrying.

I do have a school ID badge, and a gym passkey. These things actually need to be present to be used, so they’re on a lanyard that I keep in my car. Since I only take my car to either of those places, I don’t need to carry them on me personally.

So I carry two cards in my back pocket bound together with a hair-band. But what about keys?

I’ve narrowed my keys down to 3 – one for my house, one each for my two cars. Until yesterday, I actually had two key-rings, each with just two keys: a house key and a car key. Since I only left the house with one specific car, I didn’t need to carry the other car key with me. Today, I’m carrying all 3 keys, because keeping up with two sets has gotten a little silly.

But I refuse to use a regular key-ring. Metal key-rings are hard to use, and refuse to fold flat in your pocket. So I replaced mine with the afore-mentioned Ouchless hair-band. I simply ripped one apart at the glued seam, fed it through the keys, and then tied it back together. It folds completely flat, takes up no space, and is easy to handle.

I still have one problem: the keys themselves are thicker than need be. In the past, I’ve gone to walmart, and gotten copies made without the rubberized grips. By slimming down to metal-only keys, I can get my pocket feeling almost empty. Since I’ve recently traded out cars, I’m back to carrying rubberized keys – for the time being.

For what it’s worth, the keys go in the right pocket, since I’ll most likely be opening the driver-side door with my right hand.

And in my left pocket…the iPhone. I thought I could never carry an iPhone because of its bulk. Before the iPhone, I had a slightly older Motorola Razr. I resisted upgrading, because Motorola actually started making their phones a little bigger after a while. But eventually, I had to get something new, and the new Razr was not that much smaller than an iPhone. And the iPhone’s sheer usefulness has justified its size.

Because of the iPhone, I no longer carry a voice recorder (used for songwriting), or a camera (kept on my belt when I toured the Middle East), or a notepad. And I’m beginning to be able to avoid carrying a laptop.

When I do carry my laptop, I carry it in a satchel that can hold the computer itself, the power cord, a notebook, headphones, and an iPhone syncing cable in a very compact space. But I increasingly want to go without it. And in order to do that, I have to have access to my files.

Thankfully, the iPhone provides lots of options in that department. I personally use Dropbox to hold 2 gigabytes of my files for free, synced and backed up online. I can access it from my computer, from the web, or from my phone. (Do click on that link and join for free, because I get extra storage space if you do!) It’s the best tool I’ve ever encountered for protecting and freeing your files, and it just works.

The rest of my data is backed up online with JungleDisk, which is more convoluted, but allows an unlimited amount of storage. It costs money, but also provides a way to access my data from anywhere.

So I’m getting there. My pockets are very slim, but they’re not yet empty. When they can finally be empty, and everything still work just as well, then I will be in paradise.

—

Today I set out to understand myself. My peculiar mix of emotions and thoughts and attitudes – where does it come from? Whatever I am, it must be rooted in how I was when I was young.

So I thought back to what it was like to be 5 years old – running around like I was superman, in a world of simplicity and brightness. But even there, I recognized a theme. I distinctly remember feeling a sadness, an empathy for others, and for what I would now call the injury of innocence.

I had dreams when I was 5. In one of them, my mom had a flower in a clay pot, and she loved that flower dearly. My dad decided to do something nice for her, and sent it away to a place where they turned it into a mush, a kind of potpourri. He was trying to do something nice, but it broke her heart. She cried and cried.

I remember waking up and feeling so sad. I didn’t know whether it was real, but I was afraid of my dad. Not because of anything he had done, but because he caused such sadness.

Later on I would have dreams during which a young girl would get her hopes up that I would do something nice or fun for her, and she would be so thrilled. Then, when I wasn’t able to do what she was anticipation, she would cry. I would wake up sad.

In an earlier dream, I had a pet duck. And this duck had an outfit that matched mine. And when I was younger (so I dreamed), we had gone to church together in our matching outfits. We had been together since we were young. This duck had a nice environment to live in, but we would occasionally take him out of his cage, and let him walk outside. And in my dream, he flew away.

I was 5 years old. I cried for 5 days afterwards.

Where, I wondered, did this come from? My intense empathy, my bitter-sweet sense of other’s longings, my sadness at other’s innocent expectations disappointed?

I thought farther back. Several incidents occurred to me. My dad and I had been walking on the beach in Oregon one day (I would have been 3), and found a unique rock, full of holes. The holes went all the way through it, like a network of tunnels. In a special indentation, like a puzzle, a shell was fitted. I loved that rock. It was mine and dad’s, from a time I knew about, but couldn’t even remember.

One day, my brother climbed through my window, and knocked it to the ground, smashing it to pieces. I was heart-broken. I wanted to pick up the pieces and put it together again. I sketched a picture, trying to figure out how to get it back together.

Even earlier, I remember two incidences that were strangely similar. In one, my grandparents were visiting me in Oregon, and we were at a stream or river, playing in the water. Something floated by that caught my attention, and my grandparents told me to swim to get it. I tried, but the more I swam, the farther away it got. Finally, it drifted around the bend, and was gone.

I’m sure the sadness of a three-year-old boy paddling madly after something that is constantly slipping farther away is hard to grasp. Perhaps it will help to explain that somehow I perceived that object as special and beautiful just because my grandparents had sent me to get it.

The other event was at the ocean. Dad and I were walking along the beach, and throwing things into the waves. We saw a unique board floating in the water – and in some way it was special. Dad told me to swim after it, so I did. But the harder I swam, the farther away the board got, being carried over the crest of each wave farther out to sea. I wanted it, I longed for it, but my fear and powerlessness towards the ocean held me back. And so I swam, watching it drift farther from me, until it finally vanished.

Somehow, that memory has stuck with me, and the feeling of it has permeated me from top to bottom, coloring everything else I’ve ever done. When I look at the world, I see it through the shades of that longing. Every relationship is tinged with the sadness of my heavy touch on their light innocence.

Somehow, I think I will aways be that boy paddling desperately into the waves, watching as the thing he longs for slips farther and farther away.

At one point in my life I was extremely distressed. I walked out into the darkness, and eventually laid down behind an old log. And I wailed.

I couldn’t fathom why life was so terrible.

Years later, I wrote songs about that night. Those emotions were available to me, allowing me to create things that were new and amazing.

The funny thing about a song is that (if it’s a good one) there is nothing you would trade it for. Once that song exists, you would never want to go back and undo the experiences that lead up to it. No matter how bad those experiences were.

I feel the same way about that night. There is something there that I wouldn’t give up. Not because it turned into something positive – though that helps us see its value – but because in that moment itself, there was something worth its existence.

I think there’s a deeper beauty underneath the pain we encounter. I think it permeates our lives. And I think we can always see it if we look. Positive things may happen, but those things really only highlight what was there to begin with: the deep, underlying beauty in even our most painful moments.

For a moment I felt like I saw what it would be like to be free of these barriers. If you could really communicate fully with another human being – if you had no hesitation or self-consciousness in your interactions – wouldn’t it be like having the same mind?

We know that the human brain can function as different entities, if barriers are introduced. TV shows love to dwell on the weirdness of multiple personality disorders, or the functioning of split-brain patients. When communication between the two halves of someone’s brain is cut off, those two halves begin to function like different people. One hand may even fight the other hand for dominance.

If we can see a mind break into two different minds, doesn’t it stand to reason that two minds might, for just a moment, act as one? This synchronicity would probably only last briefly, a tenuously balanced moment in which time freezes and we step outside the barriers in which we’ve lived our entire lives.

I think this happens rarely, in fleeting moments, sometimes in young children, sometimes when someone looks face-on into another human being’s suffering, sometimes in music, when the musician for a moment feels connected to the floor and the audience and the sky itself. In that moment, judgment ceases, and the individual flexes and stretches out into a much bigger world.

Google Voice is a tool for centralizing phone numbers and voicemail. I’ve already centralized my phone in one way: by using a cellphone, and not having a home phone, life is streamlined.

But my voicemail and contact list has always been lacking. After all, I can only put so many contacts in my phone, and the list is not very user-friendly. I tend to forget about most voicemails, because they are inconvenient to check. Google Voice solves a lot of that.

Google Voice gives one phone number which can be routed to any phone. You can switch between phones at will, without changing your number, or needing to inform anyone of these changes. The one phone number always routes to you, wherever you direct it.

Better, Google Voice allows you to browse, organize, and listen to voicemails as if they were emails.

So, yesterday, I switched my cellphone voicemail over to Google Voice, following these instructions. Now, if you call my number and get no answer, you will be routed to Google Voice to leave a message. I also set up to make phone calls from my computer, without a phone, using this guide.

Which means I will probably be better at answering your messages. And I don’t have to worry as much about losing my phone. And I can switch service providers when I want. And I can check my voicemail online.

Which means I can go un-tethered more often.

This involves many things. For me, it ideally means

1. Traveling with only one bag
2. Carrying very few things in my pockets
3. Not accumulating possessions
4. Keeping all my data “in the cloud”, beyond the dangers of dropping laptops in swimming pools

These things may seem random, but the core idea is the same: I want to be able to travel, change direction at a moment’s notice, and live life without worrying about possessions or information.

I intend to document some of my thoughts and strategies in getting towards this goal. Right now, I’ll list a few of my inspirations.

• Tim Ferriss – lifestyle design and world travel
• OneBag.com – how to pack
• Amazon S3 – store everything online
• Google Apps

The first problem with most resolutions is that they shoot too low. Lose 10 pounds, exercise a little, stop drinking so much egg-nog.

Nobody cares.

And so these resolutions are forgotten as quickly and lightly as they are made.

“Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood.” (Daniel Burnham)

We’re going to do exactly the opposite of what people normally do. A small group of us has compiled a list of resolutions that are life-changing, world-shattering, and above all, BOLD. We are defying the forces of entropy and blandness, and are setting out to make a year that will reverberate with greatness.

The second problem with typical resolutions is that they aim to AVOID something, to hold out on eating that gingerbread man (maybe – hopefully – perhaps) until the month of February. By DEFINITION, these resolutions are broken almost as soon as they are made, as human willpower fails. By the time March rolls around, nothing of those pale resolutions is left.

By contrast, almost all of our resolutions are ACCOMPLISHMENTS, things we can go out and achieve, and once achieved, can never be taken from us.

The third problem with new year’s resolutions is that they’re personal and self-centered. Ours are exactly the opposite, resolutions born of a small group, but spreading and growing in their audacity and scope as they go, inviting and provoking ever more people to join in our great effort.

So we’re launching a new website and blog for this fantastic endeavor. And we want you to be a part of it. It’s called:

The Resolution Begins!

“People who shop at Walmart should not be allowed to complain that anything they buy, anywhere, is made in China.” – Rustic Princess

The reason that it’s controversial, of course, is that it’s about two kids killing God.

Except that isn’t true.

I’m big on people being honest when they spread malicious accusations around; so I want to set the record straight on a few things, just to clear the air. I’m not saying the book wouldn’t be controversial anyway…I’d just like the controversy to be about the right things.

First of all, the kids don’t kill God. They do find him confused and afraid, and let him out of a crystal cage he’s been kept in for thousands of years. When they do, they’re surprised to see him evaporate in the wind, due to his extreme old age. And he is peaceful and happy about being released from his misery.

The kids are just trying to help an old man.

The parents of the kids, however, DID try to wage a war against heaven. This war brings Enoch, the reigning tyrant of the universe, into battle. Enoch is the guy who took over God’s role, and keeps God in a cage. Enoch ends up getting killed by the parents.

So, to summarize: kids help out an old man, God dies of old age, Enoch is killed by the kids’ parents.

NOW…it should be obvious that the “God” that dies here is not the God described in the bible. In fact, the book is explicit that this is a false god, an old angel who set himself up and claimed to be God. He floats around in something called Cloud Mountain, and terrorizes the universe. As he gets old and feeble (in this book, even angels age), he gradually turns his duties over to Enoch, who is much harsher.

So there’s the story.

That is my aspiration – to reach for what is real and spontaneous and scary in a performance, even when it requires stepping out into new territory.

It’s a tricky question – with many ramifications on either side.

If I say, “Yes, we are a Christian band”, then I pigeon-hole us in a way I don’t want to be pigeon-holed. In many people’s minds, at least, this would mean that we only play songs that directly talk about a spiritual or religious subject. To most people, it would mean we were playing “Contemporary Christian Music”, a genre that has less to do with Christian subject matter than with a particular sound that has broad appeal among the Christian market.

Neither of those things are true about us. We do not play CCM (Contemporary Christian Music), nor do I limit my songs to ones that have religious themes.

My approach to music is from a different direction altogether. Rather than set out a genre that I want my music to fall into, I set out from the start to write music about things I cared about. The things I think about and immerse myself in become the subjects and the inspiration for the songs I write.

Rather than set out to write a song about the theological notion of God’s grace, I write a song that arises suddenly and spontaneously from my experience of the utter depth of my faithlessness – and the recognition of God’s presence even there.

How could I say we’re a Christian band? But how could I say we’re not?

The issue is that we’ve divided the world up into the “Christian market” and the “secular market”, into “the Christian subculture” and everything else. We have Christian movies, Christian music, Christian comedians, Christian television, Christian books, Christian bookstores, Christian colleges, etc, etc, etc.

I don’t think Jesus intended things to be done this way. Jesus didn’t intend to set up a subculture – an insular group creating content only for themselves. Instead, he intended to create a group that would go out into the world and draw from his example to create, to transform the situations they found themselves in.

Rather than Christian movies, we should have Christians embedded in Hollywood, involved in the making of movies, influencing them to be deeper, more artistic, more authentic. Rather than Christian musicians, we should have Christians involved in the creation of music at all levels, embedded in the music culture, authentically expressing the human spirit.

If we shift from the idea of a Christian subculture to this idea of embedded Christianity, we will see something far more productive than simply an alternate version of whatever’s popular in secular culture. Instead, we will see the rise of an entirely new level of cultural and creative development, as Christians everywhere begin to use their God-given creativity to transform all of their lives.

If we shift to this idea of embedded Christianity, we won’t just see more songs written to be sung on Sunday mornings, we’ll see songs written to cruise to, to climb mountains with, to sing to your friends and neighbors. We’ll see music that addresses all of our God-given human emotions, that honors the depths of humanity created in the image of God.

And bearing the image of God in all that you do is definitely not a narrow genre.

Turns out, they don’t make castles for easy trailer-access.

The helpful castle residents informed us we would need to take our trailer out a trail they called the “Fire Road”. It would lead us up a steep mountain overtop the castle, and finally to the castle’s back door.  And half-way through, we would need to reverse the car and trailer, and take the whole contraption backwards to the entrance.

Video can’t really capture the fact that a huge ravine lies directly to your side. But here is our attempt:

 
Daring Navigational Feat by The Redding Brothers at Pike’s Peak