May 14, 2010

A Season of Faith's Perfection

(From the movie "Finding Forrester," staring Sean Connery)

"Sit. Go ahead."

"Go ahead and what?"


"What are you doing?"

"I'm writing. Like you'll be, when you start punching those keys. Is there a problem?"

"No. I'm just thinking."

"No thinking. That comes later. You write your first draft...with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing write. Not to think. Jesus. Is there a chance you might sit down?"

"'A season of Faith's perfection.' What's this?"

"Start typing that. Sometimes the simple rhythm of typing gets us from page one to page two. When you begin to feel your own words, start typing them. [pause] Punch the keys for God's sake! YES! You're the man now, dog. Jamal? Whatever we write in this apartment...stays in this apartment. No exceptions."

A season of Faith's perfection.
When I walked home on Tuesday
And thought of the awkward time just spent with a woman
And somehow through the awkwardness
God brought me back.
The Grace had returned.
When there's nothing else
You live by Grace.
My Pride was so High
That I thought I could function without Grace,
That I could do good deeds, but not have faith.
And somehow, this would be more noble
And more real.

A season of Faith's perfection
When baseball metaphors creep into my day
And long hallways become playground little league games.
I am the great chess master at the center,
The pitcher,
Seeing that a life guided by Grace
Is one that cannot go astray
And the responsibility of one's burden in life
Is often at the expense of great, magnified fame
And you may never be a Major Leaguer
But you will do great things.

A season of Faith's perfection
Using words not my own
And making them mine.
Making something external
One in me,
Like my Faith,
Like my friends,
Like the Snapple bottle in front of me.

A season of Faith's perfection
When I overcome my insecurity
About my singing voice,
And trust what others say around me.
More importantly,
Trust they are not delivering lip service.

A season of Faith's perfection
Seeing my family, shattered,
Still reflect light
From the floor.
Knowing that 
A New Norm
Means Progress.

A season of Faith's perfection
When believing in God is more difficult than ever.
Yet, entirely around me
Feeling the mind act as the ship Captain
On an otherwise overweight, ugly ship,
Fighting through the mental barriers
Of overeating, not exercising,
And still able to express,
and Process beauty.

A season of Faith's perfection
When the Warm Light unites us all
And we cannot put it out.
When my friends band together 
In this fucking intense New York City
Hold one another,
Cry with one another,
Drink with one another,
Shout and fight with one another,
And grow with one another.
We are a different breed,
We Intelligentsia of Greenwich Village,
You, Intelligentsia of the Lower East Side
You, Intelligentsia of Park Slope
You, Intelligentsia of Williamsburg
We are all a breed unlike no other:
One stop Shops
The circles of musicians
Eventually meld into one
We all believe -
That time and effort
Spirals us forward
Into progress.

A season of Faith's perfection
When "clarity takes over me"
When borrowed lines from old songs of mine
Say more than they ever have.
When I look towards myself,
See the Warm Light once more
And realize
That someone is holding my hand
As if I were 5.
I still want to get an ice cream cone
Watch the seagulls
And the trains