The Thomas Sessions

The process of writing music is crazy. Like it's one of my favorite processes and least favorite at the same time. There's nothing more exhilarating than finding a catchy melody, or fitting the perfect lyrics into places you didn't think they would fit. But what i hate about it, is letting them go.

Writing music is really a lot like fishing or catching birds, when i sit down with the guitar, or at the piano, i am scraping around trying to catch anything, pulling melody's out of the air, trapping harmony's. The part that i hate, is having to let them go. Because i know especially with a good song, I'm going to have to let it go. And that part of the process is the hardest for me. That's why i have songbooks full of songs i haven't released yet. Because the idea of letting something go before I'm ready for it to go, terrifies me. And that's why i hold on to songs that for all intended purposes are ready, but i convince myself that i still need to work on them. "They just need a little tweeking" is what i tell myself.

So I'm going to not just complain about it, but actually do something to better the problem. I'm going to let all those songs go. Make my peace with them, say my goodbye's, and set them free. Free to fly through all of your ears and hopefully find a home in some kids hearts out there. My dream, honestly is for my music to be a bridge between God and a person. Or a person and an earnest longing for God. Please don't give up on me, be patient with me. And help me get this whole process right. I don't say it enough, but thank you, thank you, thank you. And i Love You All. ILYA

Daydreaming.

I am a very visual person. I love pictures, colors, graphs, diagrams, pop up books; you name it. So i think I am going to start accompanying my thoughts with pictures, diagrams, graphs, etc. This way to better express and explain. Thank you.

...starting next post.

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Why is it that babies hate me and dogs love me?

Hallelujah

So musically speaking…who am i? This is a question I have to ask myself every single day, and some days are more urgent for an answer than others. And the thing is, the answer isn’t always the same thing. One day, I’m strictly a blues guitarist. The next, I’m a bluegrass rhythm player. And the day after that, I’m a vocalist, and then I’m a perfectionist and everything has to be tight. And then other days I’m a rugged anything goes guitar slinger. The interesting thing comes when I think about the genetic makeup of who I am musically speaking.

I recently got the privilege to observe The Sounds of Liberty perform. They are all talented and just did an amazing job. But it started making the “who am I” wheels start to turn. They are just so polished. And I had to ponder about that. I am just not that way. I am not a polished, shined musician. And I have to ask myself, is it just because I’m a toddler in musician years, and that perhaps with time that polish will come; only years of buffing and sanding have taken place. Or am I always going to be a sloppy, rough, and cut up musician for the rest of my life. I feel like I’m a boxer who just got beat up in the ring and then went to a steak dinner at a nice restaurant without having cleaned up first. Just that out of place, feeling.

And it leads down an interesting road. The road is dark and scary, and seemingly consequential. But am I destined to be this way forever? Is it a choice I have? Truthfully, I don’t have the desire to be like that. Like some people just look so pretty when they sing. Eyes closed, just so together with what’s inside them. And I’m not like that. I wish I could be. I wish that I didn’t make stupid facial expressions when I sing. But the thing is, it’s only through those facial expressions that I get out what’s inside. And what’s inside is this desperate excuse of a man chasing God and figuring out what it means to Love him.

When it comes to God I’ve tried everything. Religion, church, good works, everything. The only thing I haven’t really given a shot is to just Love him. Just strip away everything, all the shagginess that drips from me, strip away all the flowers, and just Love God. And I don’t even know how to do that.

And what’s left? A musician with identity disorders who just Loves God.

Hallelujah

orange cream cycle slushy

All right Stop. Collaborate and Listen. Why can’t we convince anyone of anything? Think about it, especially when it comes to belief. It’s impossible. And why is it? I am easily swayed when it comes to shampoo and the newest greatest updates. If someone says it’s better than what I have now, then I want it. Then why, when it comes to belief I’m just not convinced. No matter how many Jehovah witnesses come to my door, they are never going to convince me that what they have is better than my relationship with God. (Frankly because NOTHING is better than that). But I think I’ve come up with a thought on why it is.

When it comes to God, or (spirituality, religion, lack of religion, church, scripture) we attach memories to it. We can’t help it. We attach personal things that have happened in association with it. Whether it’s God, or Church, or religion; we attach memories. Such as “that time Becky invited me to church and then went out and partied with me the night after.” Or “the time that Pastor said I should leave because I was asking too many questions”. Or even “the doctors all said I had only six months to live so I prayed to God, and here I am six years later still breathing”. Here let me illustrate.

You see it’s not a problem with the message. There’s nothing wrong with the transmission, it’s just the transmitter is broken. The problem is us.

In order for us to convince anyone to believe, we would have to attend to each and every single one of those memories that those people have. And frankly it’s impossible, because we were not there with them in their memories. The problem is us. We are incapable of doing such a thing.

But God is not. You see, only God can attend to each memory and meet that person where they are. And God is the only one that can do it.

Why?

Because only God was there with them. While each memory played out, God was there. God was there shaking his head in shame when Becky invited you to church. And he cried when that Pastor asked you to leave. And he even chuckled when that Doctor uttered the words , “six months”.

belief is a beautiful armor
but makes for the heaviest sword
like punching underwater
you never can hit who you're trying for
some lead the exhibition
and some have to know they tried
it's the chemical weapon
for the war that's raging on inside
oh, everyone believes
from emptiness to everything
oh, everyone believes
and no one's going quietly

-Belief (john mayer)