Within a few days we’ll be celebrating the publication of Burning Down the Fireproof Hotel, the spiritual memoir I’ve been working on for three and a half years. Thanks to so many of you readers who’ve asked when it’ll be out, helped in editing, cheerleading, various ways. The countdown continues….
What sort of risks do you take? And are they really risky? I mean, what will the consequences be?
A couple of years ago I took a solo road trip around the country for several weeks. And I can’t tell you how many people said, “Wow; what a brave thing to do” or something like that. Except it wasn’t really that risky; it didn’t require that much bravery. In an era where we have GPS navigation, cell phones, rest areas or business establishments every few miles,
My last blogpost was about favorite mistakes. And it spurred me to want to write (here) about the road trip I referenced there, and how great a day I had when my car broke down. That’s not our usual way of looking at things, and I want to put in a plug for rethinking what constitutes a perfect day.
I was out on the road. I was driving, singing, praying, wondering, imagining and dreaming, and then I hit a brick wall.
We’re instituting a new SPACIOUS feature — blogposts on “My Favorite Mistake.” We’ll be featuring disastrous or embarrassing things from time to time, in the hope that we can all remember it’s not only us who walk around with toilet paper trailing from our shoes or who commit social gaffes at important work events.
What’s your favorite mistake? Oh wait, you’ve never really favored your mistakes? Well, let’s change that.
I once heard a sermon* in which the preacher said that it would be practically impossible to commit suicide while listening to Handel’s Messiah. Aren’t there just pieces of music that lift you higher than where you started, or at least elevate you from a pit of despair?
And in that same vein, it’d be pretty unlikely that one could drive around in the van below and be (or stay) miserable. Once inside could you forget that Horton (that’s Horton,
I love, love, love this idea. It’s a “do good bus” that people ride, without knowing where they are going and without knowing exactly how they’ll be doing good. Part of the fun of having one’s own venture, like SPACIOUS, is being able to learn about what others are doing and give them shout-outs. So this is a big shout-out to the “Do Good Bus” people, who are helping non-profits, individuals and groups in Los Angeles.
I’d like to hand them a “Silver Lining”
In the world of improv, there’s a concept of “yes, and.” Meaning that if you say “yes, and,” then the action/narrative/drama/scene can go on, but if you say something akin to “no” or allow the dialogue or action to stop with you, then the scene is over. It can’t go further without each player moving it along.
The beauty is that each participant gets to take it where they want to. Perhaps actor number one says, “I saw a bear today and I wanted to kill it and eat it.”
I can make a metaphor out of anything, and road trips are my best fodder.
Most places that you go in this country are reached fastest through the interstate system. Our vast system handles more than “one trillion person miles” per year. So suffice it to say that we USE our interstates here in the land of free and the home of the brave. But they don’t yield much adventure, actually. Or novelty. Things look the same in many ways from that big,
Many of you have seen the movie, A Man Named Pearl. If you haven’t, do. It’s about a man who had no idea of the limitations of topiary art, so he just started pruning and hacking and created a kingdom to behold.
But better yet, hie thee down to Bishopville, South Carolina, as I did recently, and check out Pearl’s yard yourself. It was positively inspiring, especially for fans of Dr. Seuss. I don’t know that Pearl claims any inspiration of Dr.