All is Well

The link at the end of this post is to a video for one of my favorite Christmas songs,"All is Well." It seems even more poignant this Christmas. I know statistically it wasn't the most chaotic, upside-down, violent year, but it certainly feels like it was. We experienced more war, flooding, a horribly divisive election, drought, and of course, the terrible loss of innocent children and adults last week. I can't answer why. I just don't have the perspective from my vantage point in this giant universe to understand. Still, I don't think the story of Christmas is at odds with our current state of existence. It tells, in a rather beautiful way, how peace entered a violent, chaotic, and lonely world through a fragile, innocent vessel. The rulers, religious leaders, and desperate people of the day expected a political or military leader to lead them to victory (sound familiar?). But, that is not the story we read. We read of strength, power, peace and life, through the birth of our most basic human need in human form...Love. Our world will not stop turning around us. Bad things will still happen. But, if you remain open and willing to see, you will find glimpses of hope, life, and goodness all around you. And yes, even peace.

(I put this video together rather quickly using pics from around the internet...not always the highest quality, but it works. If you've had a hectic, crazy, difficult day...or year, sit back and watch/listen)

Watch "All Is Well" on YouTube

Why Hugo Shouldn't Buy a Zoo (And A Few Other Things I Believe)

"I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured, if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too. " 

"Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do... Maybe it's the same with people. If you lose your purpose... it's like you're broken." 

-Quotes from the movie "Hugo" 


I dare you to remember for a moment who you were going to be when you were young. Think about the things you were going to conquer and people you were going to love.  Are you there? Close your eyes, quiet the room, and let the memories roll through your mind like a movie and water your soul with the hope that existed then. Did you forget about some of those dreams and ambitions from the younger version of yourself?  For just a second, feel that loss and disappointment.

Now, for just a moment, let go of all the stresses and busyness of life.  Ask yourself, "Why can't I still get there?"

What have you filled your life with to stop thinking about things like dreams, hopes, grand adventures and real love? Is it stuffed with too much of something, like work, TV, food, or noise?  Are you disconnected from the people around you?  When was the last time you really talked-really talked-to your spouse or close friends?  When was the last time you really laughed with those people? I'm not talking about the shallow, social laugh.  I mean the guttural, deep laugh that leaves you aching with joy.  Life gets so tangled up sometimes.  Even worse, it gets "normal" and mundane.  We tend to settle into routines that help us manage our lives, rather than experiencing real living, breathing, feeling, adventuring, changing, and loving.  Why can't you still invent something?  Why can't you climb a mountain somewhere in Europe? Or, write a book? Record some songs? Play baseball? Dance? Act? Become a chef? Change some lives?

Or, love your wife or husband better?

I believe the quotes at the beginning of this post contain truth.  I do not think there are any "extra parts" in this world.  I believe we were created carefully and deliberately. And yes, losing your purpose is like being broken.  We're all a little broken.  Age does that.  Whether it's physical, or it's more about a wounded spirit, we are all in need of repair.  Some need a little, and some need a lot.  But instead of seeking real healing, we look for quick fixes, like the latest self help guru, super preacher, prescription, or diet.

Bars don't thrive because of alcohol. They thrive because of loneliness. You can drink a bottle of rum at home for a lot less money.

Crooked TV evangelists don't get rich because they have life changing things to say you can't hear at any local church, surrounded by people who really care for you.  They get rich because they seem larger than life and offer "1,2, 3" plans that will fix everything, while making you rich and happy...for a small donation.

There isn't a new ab machine every year because it is groundbreaking technology.  No, they show up because there is always a new crop of people (or old crop frustrated by the lack of results from last year's machine), hungry for a new fast way to a great body that will make them happy, healthy and attractive.

In order to really find happiness, we have to go deeper. And yes, we have to work harder...at least up front. We have to open ourselves up and take chances, knowing we may get hurt or fail miserably.  But, that's part of it all.  That's what makes life worth it.

Without the lows, we wouldn't really feel the highs.  Without the hurts, we wouldn't know how good it is to be healed.  Without loss, we wouldn't understand found. Without empty, there would be no complete. Without lonely, we wouldn't know love when she comes home.

Michael Jordan once said, "I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."

Mickey Mantle said, "During my 18 years I came to bat almost 10,000 times.  I struck out about 1,700 times and walked maybe 1,800 times.  You figure a ballplayer will average about 500 at bats a season.  That means I played seven years without ever hitting the ball."

It takes courage to stop the numbing and dream again. It takes a leap to let yourself want again.  But it's a good risk.

Still, don't stop with the feeling.  Be bold and write your vision down. Then, get really crazy and outline a plan. Write down where you want to be in 7 days, 7 months, and 7 years. Then, every week, update it.  Post it where you can see it everyday.  Long term goals easily get hazy and we lose our way.  For most of us, especially those of us with attention issues, having shorter watermarks along the way help keep us going in the right direction.  By the way, these goals and visions aren't supposed to just be about fantastic accomplishments, or career.  Some can be.  But, hopefully you'll also write things like, "In the next 7 days, I hope to laugh with my wife the way we used to." In seven months, "I will have my book finished."  "I will forgive my dad...and tell him." "I will forgive myself...and move on."

Hope is empty without action. Love's just a feeling without commitment, work and hard choices. Do not say you will start tomorrow. Start now. I invite you to wake up from dreaming and create a new reality.

Emotion must be followed by action or you will settle back into your old life.  In the movie We Bought A Zoo, the character Benjamin Mee says, “You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage, just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.”

I dare you to take off the mask,  let people know you.  I dare you to love enough that you can be hurt. I dare you to speak loud enough to be heard, and be silent enough to hear. Believe enough so that others laugh at you. Be sober enough to feel, courageous enough to fail.

I believe in miracles and healing. I'm not talking about someone growing a new leg. I've never seen that. Though, I believe just about anything is possible. No, I'm talking about more amazing miracles.  I've seen the broken become whole and the lost find their way home. I've seen the fatherless become fathered, the unloved become loved, the losers win, and the outcast invited in. But these miracles aren't possible without us.  They won't happen unless you and I awaken, open our eyes and take a few steps. We have to start the journey.  And, along the way, we have to pick up someone else and walk with them a while...maybe a lifetime.  Don't be afraid to ask for help yourself.  Pray.

I wish you happiness.  Even more, I wish you peace. Not the substitute type of "peace" that is really just numbness; but, the kind that comes from knowing you have a reason, a purpose, an adventure.

Don't live someone else's purpose either. Think about the two movies I referenced above. Imagine if Hugo would have bought a zoo instead of repairing machines.  What if Benjamin Mee lived behind a clock, fixing machines, instead of loving his family and restoring a neglected zoo?  Neither movie would have ended well.

Another quote from We Bought a Zoo that seems to fit comes from little Rosie Mee.  The movie starts shortly after the death of Rosie's mom. One night, when the neighbors are having a party, with lots of friends, laughter and music, she says, "Their Happy is too loud." I hope nothing less than for you to come to a place where your happy is "too loud."

Now, stop reading this and go start a new adventure...

New Compilation of Songs - Available for FREE!

I am in the process of writing for a new project and decided to glance back for a moment or two to see where I've been. The songs on this compilation span over a decade of writing, creating and living.  "The Nashville Sessions" were actually recorded in the 1990s!  Time sure does have a way of moving forward...fast.  While I was compiling these songs, I was taken back to the point in time each represents.  In one way or another, they all still have elements that are true for me even today.  And, thankfully, some of the sentiments have passed...gone but not forgotten.

Some of these songs are fully realized. Some are demo quality. Some...unfinished. Some...in progress. Some...well... just hold a unique sentimental place for me.I hope you connect somewhere.  At the very least, I hope you are entertained, and maybe even moved. Until the new stories are completed and unveiled, I hope these add to your journey.

-Matt

Click on the following link, or the one on the right side of this page under links, for your free 22 song digital download.

http://noisetrade.com/mattgressunderconstruction

Hello Again

My blog has moved...as you can see...since you're here reading this.

I figured the night before another new year was the perfect time to unveil the thing.

Anyway, I'm really glad you stopped by to check out the site.  Feel free to take a look around.  I will be adding new blog posts and content on a regular basis.  So, stop by often and don't hesitate to leave comments.  I hope this is the first of many conversations we will have as we experience and share this thing we call life.

I hope your world is good right now.  If not, it is never too late to begin again.  If you need to end a bad thing, do it.  If you need to start again, you can.  

Just take a deep breath. If you need to, close your eyes.  And run, walk, crawl, or ask someone to carry you...whatever it takes...just move...

Happy New Year wherever you are!

I am where I am,

Matt

Leaving

(Originally posted on 9/29/11)
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Leaving. One simple word. So many meanings, reactions, feelings, and consequences. It offers a unique perspective, as you are able to look back at what has been and imagine what may be ahead. It is a watermark, a shift.

It's a word full of joy, loss, anticipation and choice.

For too many, the first experience of leaving came in a childhood interrupted by a parent walking away. For those who experienced a dad or a mom leaving, it is forever imprinted on the heart. It leaves its mark on one's life, influencing every future relationship and decision. Sometimes I think we have become so used to divorce that we forget the impact it has on everyone involved. We sort of blow it off as a reason when considering why a child is struggling. Obviously, leaving is necessary sometimes. But sometimes, we just let go of each other too easily. Most parents still love, protect and mold their children; even if it's separately. But, I will never understand how some parents just leave their children behind. This leaving is life altering.

As we get older, leaving becomes a sort of passage to independence, even adulthood. It's freeing, full of possibility, new and a little scary. Do you remember when you left home? I do. I was going to conquer! It never really crossed my mind that I wouldn't achieve every dream I had. I had limitless ambition and creativity. Of course I also partied too much and made my share of mistakes. But back then mistakes were easier to rebound from. Life was a lot less complicated. Every relationship, experience, dollar made or night out was a first. When I screwed up, I just sort of moved on without feeling enormous consequences. But, not everything was great. It was also a time of wrestling with my beliefs, figuring out who I was going to be and finding out what was really important to me. Honestly, I think it was in this period of my life that I hurt the most people. I suppose I would say this is when I first experienced real regret; but also a heck of a lot of happiness. I came through this period a little wiser, somewhat more competent at life and a little damaged. I wish I could go back and experience this season of my life with who I am today.

Another kind of leaving comes with our "adult" relationships. Depending on the circumstances...and which side of the “leaving” you are on, it can be a release or a devastating process. Timing is everything. Mark Heard sings in “Strong Hand of Love" - Time marches away like a lost platoon. We gracefully age as we feel the weight of loving too late and leaving too soon. (If you don't know Mark Heard, go locate his music now. You can read this later) We often settle when we shouldn't settle, resist when we should give in, leave when we should stay and stay when we should leave.

Sometimes, our world has built up so much garbage we take a look and decide we have to start fresh, somewhere else. So, we agonize over what we will leave behind. We take inventory: our friends, our places, our routines, careers, relationships, and everything else we have collected to build a life. This leaving is not as easy or exciting as the first time we left “home.” This leaving is difficult and even confusing, with a sense of sadness and regret. It forces us to look at our “wasted time” and “unfulfilled dreams.” But it is sometimes necessary. It feels like the first time you held your breath under water. You breathe in the biggest breath you can, close your eyes and plunge. On the other side of that plunge, you emerge face to the sky, open wide your eyes and exhale! It's like being born again in a way. You feel stronger and even clearer because you have been under the weight of the water in the darkness of eyes closed. Isn't life that way sometimes? It takes going under to realize how lifeless you really have been.

Sometimes leaving is more about a state of mind. When we choose to forgive, we leave anger and bitterness behind. Other times, we choose to move on from our mistakes, leaving our shackles behind. Life always seems to be about movement. We move from one victory to a new challenge; from a deep valley to the mountaintop; from sickness to healing; from chaos to peace; and hopefully from selfishness to love.

Finally, we all leave. One way or another, we all leave this life. It's the one leaving of which we have no choice. We can't stay. If we have loved well, we will be mourned by those we have touched. They will tell stories and sing songs while they shed tears. And there will probably be good food too. But none of that will really matter all that much because we will be gone. I believe I will go on. I will see those I have lost and experience new things I only sort of understand now. I will know why everything happened and I will see love clearly, not dimly like I do now. Hopefully, my last leaving will be like my first. My expectation and peace will calm any fear I still have.

Leaving. I'm not sure why I've been thinking about this word lately. It might just be the fact that Fall is here. It's my favorite time of the year (Except for Christmas of course). I love the smell of the air, the crispness of the evenings, the deep sense of change and the content melancholy.

Yea, it could just be that. Or...something new might be coming.

-Matt

Loss, Brokenness, Healing

(Originally posted on 3/23/11)

*Re-posted on Facebook May 9, 2011 after the passing of my grandfather.

Note: My original draft of this was actually written several weeks ago, shortly before the death of my friend Brian. He was a friend and much more to many in my family of friends and acquaintances. Because of this, I greatly delayed the posting of this blog. This wasn't because I thought the timing was wrong. In fact, it was probably the right time. No, it was delayed because I...well....I had to go through my own process before I revisited it. I've written on the topic of grief before; but this time it holds a much more personal meaning. In addition to our loss, many I know have lost other loved ones over the past year or so. I hope this helps in some small way, whether you are the griever or the comforter.

This is dedicated to those who have left us, we who are left, and those who comfort us.



Loss is one of the most difficult things for us to deal with in our society. It's not a concrete thing with easy answers and tangible hope we can touch. However, the feelings, effects, consequences and pain are real. Very real. I can't speak definitively for everyone else; but for me, it feels hazy, disorienting, draining and sometimes empty and lonely. After the recent passing of Brian, I even had dreams in which I had died. I found myself thinking of my own mortality. It was unnerving. When someone leaves us, it feels destabilizing, like there is no gravity to hold us to our foundation.

Unfortunately, people often just don't know what to do or say when someone is grieving a loss (myself included). Death in particular forces us to acknowledge that we will die too. It also exposes the empty hole we all feel sometimes. It makes us face our own feelings of disconnection and loneliness that everyone feels sometimes I've seen and heard many responses to someone grieving. They range from “You gotta get up and move on!” to endless scriptures and quotes.

Let me address the first one. Contrary to what modern society says, you do not have to “get up and move on.” At least not right now. We are forced to grieve way too fast these days. Someone we love passes on. We cry for a few days. Then, it's back to work a week or so later. If you look at history, at other cultures, people grieved for extended periods of time...until they were ready to move on. And it was healthy and right. Now, I know we can't physically check out for extended periods of time today. We'd lose our jobs, etc. In addition, it is healthy and helpful to get back into a routine when going through the grieving process. I'm simply saying that we don't have to push down our feelings, abbreviate our healing process and smile for everyone's viewing pleasure. Don't ever feel like you are somehow weak or less spiritual because you still feel a little angry or sad when others have seemingly moved beyond these things. Just don't isolate. Don't fall into despair. Feel, acknowledge, work through, reach out, listen, let others help and heal. The missing of them will never go away. But, it will get better.

Second, in terms of quoting endless scriptures and inspirational quotes to someone. These things are important and helpful in context. They certainly speak to someone's faith. However, I promise you, a person of faith already has these in their arsenal and “know” all the right things to believe. But, often, when these things are thrown at people who are grieving, over and over and over, they start to sound hallow and sometimes even accusatory. For instance, if “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” then why do I feel weak? If “God is my comforter,” why am I feeling so empty and chaotic? "I must be doing something wrong." I'm not saying don't share these things when appropriate, especially one on one, in the context of relationship and conversation. I'm just saying, throwing a million inspirational quotes at someone is not going to do it alone. In fact, I know for myself, I'd rather hear or read a personal note of comfort and empathy from someone rather than something that can be stitched on a pillow.

On that note, one of the things my faith does tell me to do is to “weep with those who weep.” One of the most powerful things we can say to someone grieving is...nothing. When you don't know what to say, just be with them. We often feel like we need just the right word or phrase to say. But, honestly, not much of what we say will even get through the haze of grief. An author once referenced this as “the fog of a broken heart” (which I, of course, stole and turned into a song...). That is a true description. Maya Angelou has a great quote that is true as well: “People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.” Be with someone. Support them. When they want to cry, cry with them. When they want to laugh, laugh with them. And when they want to talk, listen. Really listen. Speak when necessary. The wonderful thing about grieving with someone is that when they are ready to get up, you will get up together. Your strength will be there to lift and offer a safe place to land when the stumbling comes. An author named Donald Miller tells a moving story he heard in regards to a “rescue." I'll attempt to retell it here:


There were a group of POW's who had been in captivity for a very long time. They had been tortured and mistreated, toyed with and lied to. They had been so hurt and torn down that there was no need to shackle them. They had little hope. The American government finally found out where they were and staged a rescue. The team began the daring rescue of their fallen comrades. They came in with force and then a few of them entered the place where the POW's were kept. They were on the floor, beaten, tired and fearful. One of the commanders
began loudly proclaiming that they were from the U.S.A., there to rescue them. He forcefully told them to get up and come go with them to safety. However, the men were scared and did
not believe them. They had been played with before. Their shock and trauma kept them on the floor. Then, one of the rescuers noticed what was happening. He gently approached the men on the floor, carefully put his weapons down and laid down on the dirty floor in the middle of them. He reached out and put his hand on one man's chest and said quietly to him “You're safe now. We are from America. We are here to rescue you. Will you stand up with me? I'll help you if you need me to.” The man slowly rose with his rescuer. Then seeing him move, the others began to follow. Soon, they were in the air, on their way home.

This is one of my favorite stories. I try to remember it when I am attempting to help someone. Sometimes you have to become like them to help them . Sometimes, you have to get down in the dirt and be with them.

I don't have all the answers. There isn't a concrete path to go from brokenness to healing. But, we can heal. There may be obstacles and setbacks. In grief counseling, we know there are steps: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, sadness and acceptance. But, these can get jumbled up. You may go back and forth a little or feel a few, or all, at once. Don't be discouraged. I do want you to hear this though. If you fall into prolonged depression, please reach out. Get help. You cannot do it alone.

In closing, for those of us who find ourselves on the broken side of grief, take heart. It will get better...but on your own timetable. None of us are alone. When you do feel restored, though not the same, reach out to others and return what has been given to you. Bishop Tutu, when putting together the HRC, once used the term “wounded healers.” When assembling the team that would be a part of the restoration in South Africa after Apartheid, he said he did not want angry, vengeful victims, but instead he desired “wounded healers.” I hope that is who I am. For those of you who are comforting, be patient and truthful. Get down in the dirt. Offer hope. Then, we will all find our way to the other side of grief. And one day, we will see those we miss again...in a much better place.

(Feel free to leave comments here or on Facebook where this was linked)

The Rescue

(Originally posted on 12/12/10)

Life is truly a messy thing. There are those days when everything is right. You could easily be driving on an open road with the top down in a world that is yours under a sky that seems to open up all around you. But, sometimes it seems like you are downtown in traffic during rush hour...late...again. Sometimes, it feels like a cold Winter day, with gray skies overhead and a chill that smacks you in the face. Yea, life is definitely messy.

Justin knows this well. He and his wife were on their way to the doctor's office for a check-up. His wife was several months into her first pregnancy,nearly ready to make that final trip to the hospital. The young couple was excited. Then, out of nowhere, the crushing force of a speeding car collided with the passenger's side of their car. A few moments later, Justin snapped out of his daze and looked over to see his wife unconscious and trapped. She was bleeding. She was not waking up. But, he couldn't help her. He felt completely helpless and alone. All he knew to do was hope and pray and scream. In that moment, Justin, for the first time in his life knew what it means to need a rescue.

A few days ago, a longtime friend stopped by work to see me. She and I have seen a lot together. She works in the business of mental health like me. We help people. That's what we do. We try to get people to understand they have to talk sometimes. They have to reach out and accept help when they need it. Yet, we are not always so good at following our own advice. However, she and I have that trust. So, the other day I listened as she shared about the stress and struggles she has faced lately. In turn, I opened up a little and told of similar things in my own life. It was good. She needed a small rescue. I needed to be there.

About two years ago, I was driving in a storm. I wrapped my car around a telephone pole driving through an alley. That wasn't fun! I got out relatively unscathed (Thank God for Volvo...It may be the safest car in the world). The body of the car was ok, but the axle was torn in half. The car was totaled. So, a few days later, I was waiting at a McDonald's in downtown Nashville for my buddy to pick me up and take me to buy a car. It was a really crappy day. It was January, cold and miserable. It's funny how when you're in the middle of something like that, you start over-analyzing your life. At least I do. That day it went something like this: "Man, I'm just not where I wanted to be. I don't have everything I thought I would. I've been in and out of the hospital too many times with this stupid neurological illness. I'm tired of treatment and medication. I've had too many bad relationships" On and on. Then, in the middle of my self analysis (pity party), I was interrupted. A young man came up to me and asked. "Mr. Matt? Are you Mr. Matt?" I answered "yes" while faking a smile. He looked vaguely familiar. He continued, "I was at the group home when you ran it. I'm __________. Do you remember me?" I did ( I was the program director of a group home in the 90's). I had tried very hard to help this kid. We had given him care and compassion, and structure and love. But, ultimately we had to kick him out of the program. I thought "Uh oh, here it is. I'm going to be killed in a McDonald's. What a really crappy end to a crappy week!" Then he said, with a smile, "You kicked me out. You don't know this. But, you saved my life. You guys cared about me. Nobody else did. I have a wife and kid now. I have a job. I'm not gonna do what my parents did. I'm gonna be a good dad. Thanks for all you did...and for kicking me out. I learned." I told him I was proud of him. That seemed to be important to him. Then he left. All I could do was thank God. That kid might think I rescued him; but he returned the favor that day.

We all need rescuing sometimes.

But, not many of us are willing to let go. Not many of us will ask. We have to realize that, yes, rescues sometimes show up out of the blue; but most of the time, they don't. How is anyone supposed to know we need help if we hide behind our busy schedules, parties, work, or fake smiles? Asking for help or just an empathetic ear is not weakness. Every once in a while, we have to send up a white flag to signal our need.

On the other side of that is the truth that we need to watch and listen-really listen-to those around us. This past week a young man laid down on train tracks in front of an elementary school and gave up his life. He attended a school in a county where I do some work. People have had comments and questions about it this week. "Why did he do it?" "I knew him. He was happy." I can't really answer those questions. But, I can say, listen. Listen to those you love. And, if it's you in need, send up the flag. I was facilitating a weekly recovery group the other day. The kids were talking about the boy who took his life. I took a moment and asked how many of them had experienced suicidal ideations in the last 6 months. Every one of them raised their hand. Every one.

People are in need of rescue.

Rescue isn't easy. It doesn't always go smoothly. It doesn't always feel good.

Sometimes you need to be drowning to come back to life ( I think that's why I find beauty in the ritual of baptism). At times, you have to be helpless to be helped; hopeless to find hope; hurting to find healing; broken to be fixed; abandoned to be found; lonely to be loved; and completely surrendered to be rescued.

Be prepared, no matter which side of the fence you are standing on, to act when the time comes. And, if necessary, send up the white flag. Someone will see.

-Matt

*Justin and his wife welcomed a beautiful baby girl into their lives shortly after the accident. Mom and baby...and Justin are fine. Oh, and I got another car.