After 11 hours in the office, I couldn't wait to get out and walk tonight. I was anxious to move after so many hours sitting and I had a lot of energy because that's what happens when you're particularly productive--at least that what happens to me. Productivity breeds energy. But I didn't have a lot of time tonight because I had a date with my television so I tried to make the most of the time I had by picking up the pace a lot. Having walked only sporadically these last couple of weeks since the pain started, I was finally feeling really well and was able to get to 15 minute miles. I think I'll be back to a decent pace really soon.
Fueling my walk tonight is Pat Monahan of the band Train and a couple of his podcasts in which he interviews music friends he's made over the years. I listened to him talk with the Secret Sisters whom I've been wanting to get to know for a while and Brandi Carlisle was in on that conversation too. Interesting and talented ladies. One of the best parts of Pat's Patcasts (that's what he's called his podcasts) is that he sings along with his guests on one of their songs. And it's the whole song, not just a bit of a song. The Secret Singers decide to sing Black and Blue. Lydia and Laura Rogers have that uniquely southern sound that I tend to love a lot and the tightness of their harmony makes me jealous. I wish I could do that.
At the 2-mile mark I start up another Patcast, this time with Butch Walker, the singer, songwriter, producer who's worked with so many amazing artists (including one I happen to like a lot). It's a really long interview and they cover a lot of territory. I have Butch's autobiography too and have read a bit of it. Now that the summer is over and I'm back to longer days at work, it's harder to commit to a book but I will finish it; he's fascinating and I'm learning a lot about the music business. Butch is a wonderful storyteller and has had a lot of experiences that make for great stories. I'm enjoying hearing about his start in music during the "hair-metal" days.
Pat is a wonderful interviewer. These sessions are actually less like interviews and more like being "a fly on the wall" during personal conversations between old friends. Butch sings a new song and it's simply beautiful. Let It Go Where It's Supposed To: Let it go where it's supposed to. Let your life hang out the window to dry. And if it catches the wind and you never see it again, Then I guess it probably was time. Did I mention he's a heck of a guitar player and such a good singer?
As always, while I'm walking, while I'm rambling, I'm looking for the picture that tells the story of that day's walk. Most often it has to do with light on the river or lake or bits of nature that catch my attention. Sometimes it's something downtown that I find amusing or has struck me for some other reason. Not having an enormous amount of time tonight and with light fading fast, I decide to walk to the pond and back, about 4 miles, 4.5 if I walk around the pond. There is a sidewalk most of the way on this route so it's relatively safe when the sun goes down. I have to pass the Diamond Spring before I get to the pond. The sky over the spring is striated with pink and grey and pale blue. The almost full moon is shining like diamond, low on the horizon. Evening light. Gracious light. Phos Hilaron.
O gracious light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!
Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of Life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.
It's from Evening Prayer in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. I've loved this poetry my whole adult life. My son sang with my church's very traditionally Anglican Choir of Men and boys when he was young and on Tuesdays, after the boys had rehearsed they would sing Evensong for whomever was around at 5:30. Evening Prayer is an ancient office of the Church and Evensong is it's sung version. It's quiet and quite perfect. We don't do Tuesday Evensong anymore at church. There aren't enough children in the choir right now ... but I miss it and, sometimes, that time in my life.
I choose the moon over the Diamond Spring as my picture tonight and send it off to Facebook with a verse from Phos Hilaron. And just like that, I return to the Patcast. That's how I ramble ... from Butch Walker to ancient texts and back again. My own study in contrasts ...
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