The Lark Ascending...

He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake.

- George Meredith

I had never heard this poem before it was briefly quoted on the David Crowder Band's album "A Collision (3+4=7)" in the final song "The Lark Ascending or (Perhaps More Accurately, I'm Trying to Make You Sing). I listened to this song this morning, as I was feeling a bit funky. This funk was not the self-actualized, "I am a strikingly individual person," but more the, "I feel like there is a tiny black cloud hovering over my head, not quite raining, but just misting enough to make my hair frizz."

As I prepared for the morning shower, I pondered my morning music choice. Music choice for me is absolutely critical... whatever music my Bose sings to me sets the tone for the rest of my day. I was faced with choices.

"Should I listen to Fiona Apple and own my funk?"

"Should I sing along to Ray LaMontagne and mellow out?"

"Should I put on Timbaland and just dance through the funk?"

And then I decided... I will put on "A Collision" and see where it takes me. My usual morning routine is that I shower and dry my hair, and then do the rest of my morning tasks while the Today Show blares on the TV. Today I chose to leave the TV off... I let the music continue until I walked out the door... I even took my ipod in the car with me, hooking it up to the radio adapter and letting the album play where it left off.

I needed to stop at the store on the way to school to get some Tylenol (why is it that I am always out when a funk hits me?) so I pulled into the parking lot, popped on my headphones and walked into the store. As I walked toward the pharmacy section of the store, the last song on the album came on. If you have never heard the album, the last song begins with an interview that David Crowder had with a gentleman who didn't quite "get it." It is obvious that Crowder becomes a bit frustrated by the gentleman who takes everything a bit too literally...

And as this is all occurring on my headphones, I am scanning my Tylenol on the self checkout. The screen tells me that I should see the attendant so that the attendant may deactivate the security tag so that I don't beeped at on the way out the door. As I approach her, I ask her to deactivate the tag. She replies...

"There is nothing I can do about it. I saw you buy it, so it is ok if the alarm goes off."

UGH!! Funk reappeared. As I was walking out the door, the alarm goes off. It is 7:45 a.m. and there are not very many people in the store. I am asked by who I would presume to be the loss prevention person to present my receipt, and I begin to get frustrated... That whole attitude that I have worked so hard to create for myself goes out the window...

And as I sink down into my funk and my Mercury Sable, I listen to David Crowder explain to this interviewer how we shouldn't take anything too seriously. He talks about the atom that is on the front of the album, and how the representation that humans have made for the atom is just that: a representation. The same goes for our worship and ideas about God. It is a representation of a divine/human interaction... an interaction that despite all of our best efforts will not be fully understood. And the beauty of this interaction is that it happens in all people, whether they recognize it or not. And just as Crowder had to try to articulate this to his interviewer, I need to recognize that in all the people around me.

And on the mile stretch between the store and my school, I sang...

And I'm trying to make you sing
From inside where you believe
Like it's something that you need
Like it means everything

And I'm trying to make you feel that
This is for real, that life is happening
That it means everything
I'm just trying to make you sing