How much do we beat ourselves up for the thing left undone?

I’m riding my bike to breakfast today.  At least for today, I’m done with that being the thing left undone.

Image via Wikipedia

This week, Spotify released to US customers. This service is pretty cool in theory: you get to listen to pretty much any song you can search for (not everything ever recorded is available, but still) and listen to whatever you want. You can build play lists to save for later and share with friends on the service or post links to Twitter or Facebook for others to enjoy. One of the cooler features is the ability to collaborate on a play list with your friends on the service. Any song on the service is eligible for addition to a play list. It’s much like having the world’s library of music at your fingertips to use as you see fit, so long as you have an account with Spotify.

The Spotify app on your desktop takes the place of your iTunes or WMP app and automatically loads up all of your existing play lists (which you can then choose to list on the service if you’d like). If you have a list you’d worked on for a while, this lets you, presumably, share it with the world to enjoy. Spotify lets them load your list and hear the music through the service without having to own the songs themselves.

Two things that are deal breakers for me.

1. Spotify uses Facebook for its social graph. So to connect with friends, they have to use both Spotify and Facebook. Also, they have to connect Spotify with Facebook before you can find your friends on the service easily (you also have to connect the accounts). That’s a lot of “have tos” just to connect with people I likely know pretty well.
2. Even if you connect to Facebook, finding other Spotify users that share your tastes (or could expand your musical tastes) is almost impossible. Since Spotify relies on Facebook for its social graph, if you don’t know them on Facebook, you aren’t going to randomly bump into them on Spotify. Further, there isn’t a play list directory built into the system of publicly shared lists, so you can’t easily find popular play list creators to follow. There are web sites that try to fill this gap, and nicely, but integration with the app is practically required these days. Spotify does show new releases and top lists of songs and artists, so that could be finding new music depending on what you already listen to.

Which brings me to Pandora. I can share what I’m listening to, but the system does a spooky great job of finding music that I really enjoy. A few thumbs up, a couple of thumbs down, and the service is playing a station that is pretty much what I want (even if I’ve never heard that song before). Sure, I can’t select the next song myself, but that’s how I find new music most of the time.

Both services offer free accounts (invites required for now on Spotify) and paid accounts. Spotify charges $4.99/month for unlimited use on the desktop app and $9.99 to add mobile devices to your experience and an offline mode for those times when you don’t have an internet connection. Pandora charges $36/year for ad-free playing and unlimited skips. Essentially, $3/month. You get the mobile experience with a free account, too.

Spotify has the potential to really take over how we listen to music, but if I’m going to pay, Pandora is the better deal for now. Please correct me if I got anything of the above wrong, too. It’s based on a few days of usage on Spotify and I’ve used Pandora for a while now.

Since both are free, I’m not actually paying for either just yet. Maybe one day, though.

Lately I’ve been pondering my Sunday mornings.

They are entirely routine. Start with a trip to get coffee, then to the church to set up for the first service of the day. Spend time with some awesome people warming up and joking around a bit followed by a break to say hello to folks showing up for the service. Then the service happens and we store the equipment.  The service itself is largely the same every week and even the minor variations are often strikingly similar (guest speakers share at “that” point of the service and rarely any other).

The service leads to Sunday School with the youth, which is always awesome no matter the circumstances.  It is, without question, the highlight of my Sunday, and sometimes my week, to watch their minds work through things and often find that they have already done the math and reached a profound conclusion.

The rest…is routine.  The same, or nearly so, every week.

Routine can be good.  The liturgy of the church is there to make sure we stick to our guns and don’t skip over that troublesome bit that we aren’t so sure about, really.  It makes sure we remember that we need forgiveness and to give forgiveness to receive forgiveness.  Stuff like that.

Except that the liturgy isn’t routine.  The liturgy, in terms some will wonder what I’m talking about, is an API upon which to build.  It’s a platform that can support the weight of our craziest ideas of what worship can look like.

I have found myself lately saddened at the lack of originality coming from such a lush and rich platform upon which amazing experiences and adventures can take place.  That sadness is turning into ideas, though, and here are some of them so far:

Coffee on Thursday

I’m out for coffee just about every weekday visiting different shops about town. I propose, for those who are able, to name Thursday morning a time to meet up and talk. Talk about anything. This isn’t a time of singing or discussing The Word, at least not intentionally.  Singing may erupt and the Bible is as much a topic of conversation as anything. But it’s a time to meet and gather around a public hearth (sort of) and be in each other’s lives such that the routine has depth and we can build upon the liturgy.

Leave the Church Sundays

On some Sundays, we still have services happening like normal (since people who visit will not have received this memo). But we also gather in a park or on a street corner and have a simple service together. Nothing huge or requiring massive amount of planning or logistics. This is something that gets us into the community instead of waiting for the community to come to us. This might be a time of singing our favorite songs while picking up trash (or just singing, even).  Maybe having a small, quiet, nearly silent, monastic-style prayer service on a sidewalk in town. The liturgy is still there to guide the content, but here we have shattered the routine so that something new might take place.

That’s all for now, but I’ll post more if they come to me.

I’m 33. It’s not a prime number, but when I see it, I think it is for a microsecond until I remember. That isn’t important, though.

I’m 33. Church tradition says that’s how old Jesus was when he died. That isn’t important either, but it is morbid and not meant as a self-comparison to Jesus.

The internet in my house is down tonight, but I can still connect thanks to the magic of my Blackberry and a USB cable.

I’m 33 and I am most definitely a bit of a geek.

Anyway…

I don’t know what the year behind me is about, but I have found myself more often removing the unimportant. Do we really need that step in this process? Is it critical that everyone weighs in on this decision? Is this concern really worth my time?  No, you say?  Well, then, let’s do away with that and make something better. Something grander. Or even just make SOMETHING. Let action take place whether it be in the still depths of quiet thought and meditation or the rambunctious and frenetic scrambling of a busy room. That has been a trend of late and it is both fulfilling and wearying. I don’t know what to do with that yet.

For the year ahead, I see good things.  There was a suggestion that I take up street ministry, for instance. But with the twist being that I’d have to mime everything. That’s a good idea, but I think I’ll table it for now and let it grow a bit first. I have my camera and that always has opportunities for good things to happen. There’s definitely a Comic Con in my future. Work is well and I’m gainfully employed. My place of residence is awesome. I reserve the right to complain, but note that others deserve it far more than I do.

I think the next year will be a bit bigger than those things, though. Approaching today, I’ve found myself reminded of things left undone or potential accomplishments in which I should take part. While each of these things on their own are largely good, the overall weight began to crush any sense of joy or fulfillment those things could bring. Rather, it was about doing things because it is what we should do and everyone does that.

Well, that’s not what the next year will be about because that sucked. This doesn’t mean I won’t get to the ideas that came up over the last week, but they’re going on the back burner for a few days until they can simmer down and find the right place in life and the world.  Instead, I think we’ll keep with this important/not important thing for a while and see where that leads.

What I know is that I have a good life with good people and that is a bigger trend spanning multiple decades.  That is important.  That makes possible the life worth living. I need little else.

The world is calling and I feel like traveling a bit. Don’t even need to go very far. Just somewhere different for a day or five. Then things can return to the normal pace for a bit before the wanderlust comes back.

This line of thought has played out in my mind for a few days now and in an email thread with a particularly awesome person who lets me go on about it a bit.

One of the most interesting things to think about so far is that I know where all of my future friends are already.  It would be easy to seek them out earlier in our lives to see what happens or just let things play out mostly as they had only changing choices that would not affect my chances of meeting them again, so far as I could tell.  Some could be a bit strange, such as friends I have today that were two years old when I was a freshman in high school.  Others I may never meet at all in this parallel life without intentionally finding them.

This isn’t an exercise in finding regrets, though it could quickly become that if I let it.  More it’s made me realize many of the chance encounters and choices that have led to today and the shape of today.  There are choices I would rather I had made differently or come to the same conclusion for better reasons, but those have led to amazing encounters that I would hope would repeat themselves or become better on the second chance.

I put in an email earlier today that I’d make sure to bring a ton of peanut butter with me to (re)meet one particular friend.  For some reason that comment inspired me to share, as well as the image above this post, courtesy of Robert Bahn.

Mostly one reason, honestly.

It’s pretty silly, but you don’t realize that when you’re in the middle of it.  I’m still in the middle of it, actually.  You can hope a storm is over, but sometimes you’re just in the quiet peace of the dead center of the cyclone.  Probably a good time to look around, take stock, and find better cover if you need some before the storm begins anew.

I haven’t had opportunity to actually attend a Christmas concert in…well, a while.  I’m usually in them and enough that there’s no real chance to attend another as an audience member.

There’s a funny thing about a good concert.  Religious or otherwise, the music and the musicians behind it weave a spell around you.  The dynamic nuances, random glances at people in the audience, slightly missed entrances, and particularly solid progressions come together to create a new sort of space.  It’s like a bubble of something better pushing out the mundane the surrounds you so that it can gather you up and get to work on your self.

I had four concerts this weekend and I’m exhausted.  It took the craft of four concerts, a “sleep well” text, a smile from the Starbucks barista, a tweet from about 450 miles away, and a glass of rum that wasn’t kind to my sleep schedule to smack me on the head and scream gently into my nearly closed ears that I’m angry and it isn’t good and there are better things to choose.

I’m not even angry about the things I thought I was angry about, too.  Made for some long overdue good choices that are far more the kind I want to make in my life.

I thought it would be easy. Comic books and super-heroes. Easy for middle schoolers, right?

It’s only been one Sunday of teaching middle schoolers about God and Jesus while using Justice League as a vehicle for a bigger picture. It didn’t go poorly. It was hard to read what the kids were thinking. They had good questions to offer and know at least enough to give the answers they think we want. No light bulb moments, though  Excitement and eagerness had left the building.

Middle school is a rough time. I know of no one with fond memories of 7th grade. I remember many good moments in my junior high (no middle school for me) years, but still look back with gratitude that I don’t have to do that part again. Church was the best, though, if for no other reason than members of the drill team were also there and seemed to like having me there, too (oh, young Robert, had you only been paying more attention). Point being I didn’t need my interest captured. I was the scrawny kid eager to please my peers and grown-up guides through The Dark Years of Junior High.  Being the kid who knew where the books of the Bible were was easy. Nothing else required. I was an easy sell.

But neither did it sink in  At least, not for a while. I was (I think) a good kid because there wasn’t another option. It wasn’t that I chose being good. It was just how you were to behave. What does breaking the rules do for anyone?  It’s not that I didn’t want to break them (and, honestly, I did break the rules, or at least bend them extensively), it’s that there isn’t a point.  Just be quiet and hope the pretty girls sit with me again.

Now I’m teaching that class and with awesome friends who know a hell of a lot more about teaching than I do (for which I’m eternally grateful). There’s even a kid that reminds me exactly of me at that age. I thought the comic books and superhero stories would bring down the roof. They may yet, it’s only been one week.

On reflection, I don’t remember a single lesson from those years. I do remember Brian, Laura, Stacey, Kristin, David, and Stephen. Some with fondness and some with trepidation (David was quite intimidating and quickly became the football player to my band geek). Maybe the lessons sank in sooner or later. I wonder if it matters. Once again, the people left the lasting mark, this one for the better.

It seems that teaching middle school isn’t easy either. If it were as easy as showing up, there would be more volunteers.

But they probably wouldn’t be using Booster Gold, Wonder Woman, and Hawk and Dove to make a good point.

I do not often reflect on Labor Day.  What is there to reflect about?  I work, I get paid, and someone out there decided that today was a good day to just sit and relax.

Today, though, seems more significant.  Ten percent of the nation is out of work.  Many more simply are not looking for work and likely not counted in that 10%.  NPR posted a great article about the situation today.  Short story: being out of work does not mean there is not labor.  Seth Godin also did his usual job of pointing out the things we should be thinking about today.

I was dismissed from a job once (the situation does not lend itself to calling it fired).  I was lucky to have great people support me and I got the job for real.  Seven years later, I am in a great place and trying to help people do amazing work.  There is not a day when I do not feel appreciation for the actions of others that led me here.  I do not ever think that I have made it to where I am now by my own efforts (though it did take effort on my part).

Seven years later, I feel complacent more often than one should.  A good friend of mine just left for San Francisco quite literally on a wing and a prayer.  She left a job without having a steady job lined up.  She is in a situation there that will make job searching as ideal as it can be, even in the worst of economies.  She is amazing and talented and I do not worry for her.

Her departure has caused me to think of my own labors and wonder what is next for me.  I am comfortable here and comfortable is a very hard thing to change.  Comfortable leads to a lazy soul.  Uncomfortable is a thing of displeasure that is to be feared for its mystery.

I have projects in mind for myself.  I am not sure how to go about doing them, but they are there still, in the wings of my mind.  Labors yet to be undertaken.  Exciting, undiscovered realms of people and ideas and art and joy.  One cannot be afraid of such uncomfortable things as these.

I just don’t watch TV any more. It’s not that there isn’t anything good on. It’s that I have better things to do an Netflix let’s me see what I missed (without commercials and on my time, no less).

Part of an effort to simplify my life. Also, save money every month to put towards better things. I’d like to attend the 2012 Olympics in London. Cable seems to stand in the way of that. There are tons of books I have yet to read. Not following television shows relentlessly should help with that effort. I like writing things. Having more time for pursuits that engage the mind, heart, soul, and body is a good thing.

Not to mention photography. Why I only pick up my camera for special occasions is a complex mystery I’d rather dismiss than solve.

So, my cable will end on September 13th. The box is basically a timepiece until then since I don’t watch anything anyway. It actually isn’t even plugged into the TV anyway, so I might as find it’s box and pack it up now. When the landlords return everything of theirs that’s going back, mine will go with it. Less clutter in the entertainment center. Less clutter in the mind.

Maybe TV is like the curds and whey that take over 90% of most people’s brains. If I get super powers, I’m not telling (but I’ll pick flight over invisibility, thanks).

This is also mostly a test. But why send a test if you aren’t going to say something more than “test” for the world?