Featuring at Seattle Poetry Slam on 11/18

I have a brief announcement to make. On the 18th of this month, I’ll be featuring at the Seattle Poetry Slam, and if you live anywhere near the 206, I’d love for you to be there. I’m really excited about this opportunity! I’ll be reading a lot of new stuff and releasing my chapbook as well. This will be a great night.

And as a bonus, I give you a picture of a smaller-than-normal horse from a recent Jubilee trip to Leavenworth that I wish I could bring home. What would you name him?

IWPS Highlights

Hey everybody! It’s been almost a month since I was in the Bay Area, but I still wanted to tell you briefly about my time there. To start, a no-particular order brief rundown of highlights:

1. Such killer writing!
2. Conversations with Greg Bee, Johnny McCrae, Alvin Lau, Brickman, Megan Thoma, and other supporters and slammers alike.
3. Ross Hickerson
4. Sean Conlon
5. Supporting my Seattle crew.
6. Ninja + Big Booty

Big Booty!

 

7.  Hotel Shattuck Plaza
8. Berkeley

Part of the problem with waiting so long to write a follow-up post is the forgetting! However, I do remember this. I so enjoyed going and seeing such talented writers and performers one after another on each stage, and then being free to hang out and talk when everyone was off stage. It’s rare that you get such unhindered time with poets that might have been on tour through your city the last time you saw them, and hanging out with Seattle poets in a different context was awesome too. I came away from the event feeling so inspired and encouraged to continue on as an artist.

IWPS Preflight

Hi everyone. Firstly, today is a beautiful day.

I just wanted to put up a quick update and let all who might read know that I’ll be flying down to Berkeley, CA this week for the Individual World Poetry Slam! This is my first national competition to attend, much less participate in, and needless to say, I’m very very excited. Check back next week for pictures of new friends and stories from our time in the Golden State!

Yes, the Bible hurts.

The recurring theme of conversations I’ve had this week has been confusion, frustration, and pain from reading the Bible. The specific passages that have surfaced have appeared to be unfairly scathing criticisms of mankind.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12

Yep, that sounds like it hurts. Why is it like this?

When I come to the Bible, I come to a book outlining a lifestyle I failed at before I even knew I was failing, and claims I am helplessly fallen and without excuse; “for all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23). This book claims also to explain me as a human, and while doing so, claims that I was created by God, chose a way different than God’s way, and because of it, must repent to God or accept the punishment for my sins. This is a very hard thing to hear, and yet, there is truth in it.

Can anyone look at the world and say we’re getting better? I have had some dear friends talk to me about how, by way of knowledge and information, we will slowly become increasingly morally aware and reach an omega point where everyone acts how they ought – but by what standard? There is the tendency in America to brag about our moral supremacy (or we at least have the idea we’re doing something right) , while, for example, we eat in restaurants and live next to very normal-seeming families who may or may not (but regularly do) hold servants from other, mostly disadvantaged countries against their will (slavery).

And if I only look at the laws in the Bible, I can see (NOT justify, just…see) how people might walk around with hateful signs and make such awful, ignorant statements about other people, because a book of laws shows us that we’re missing it somewhere, and that religion motivates us to compare ourselves with others and wear that comparison like a trophy. But that’s never how the Bible was to be read.

All that the laws show us is that there is some standard, God’s standard, that we cannot keep. That God is holy, and we, without Him, are not. It doesn’t make a difference whether we look at those laws, or the ones we set up, we will fail at them. Did you go against your conscience this week? Me too, BUT HERE’S THE BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL THING!!! “For one will scarcely die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:7-8

The law is not the end! There is hope! Jesus lived a life, never having sinned, and then was punished by God for us so that we could live, without guilt or shame, by asking Him for forgiveness, since He is able to forgive. “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1).

So yes, the Bible hurts. It hurts me to read most days, because it shows me all the bad parts of myself, and also confuses me sometimes as to why God does the things He does, or requires of us the things He does; but you and I don’t have to know everything. All we have to know is our need for God. And in light of Jesus, the laws aren’t quite so bad, David even loved them. They do hurt, but they are of God, so they are good for us. Laws without Jesus lead to religion and terrible terrible things. Laws with Jesus point us to Him, and looking at the laws through Jesus glasses is good, since Jesus doesn’t expect us to do all of them right all the time, just to ask for help.

“The law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” – John 1:17

And to close: I think about this poem of Jodie Knowles’ (she just moved back here!) all the time, JUST found video of it, and will now share it here out of excitement. Give it a listen if you have even a few minutes.

In a word

My shirt caught on the p as I climbed out its dirt door,
tore an absent o in my chest.
I backlashed wielding the fishhook stuck in the stone between the two,
but the n stood on its head to swallow me like a venus flytrap,
and the e smiled shoeshine wolf enough for the rest of them. 

Pushing myself out that crease in the cliff,
holding on by my splintered fingernail teeth,
I screamed beast into the mouth of my fears and waited
for them to spit me out.

Splash Mountain and something I left on the ride

When I was younger, my family took a vacation to Disney Land or World, whichever has Splash Mountain, and as a child who initially didn’t like fast rides, I remember feeling deceived. They have all these happy looking animals singing happy songs in a cave of gold and shiny things, and then out of nowhere I felt the track below get a little sturdier right before we were pulled down in a blaze of splash, park-owned cameras, and need I say, terror.

Looking back, I’m much less bitter, but parts of this story serve as a picture of this month. I feel like life is full of wonderful things, but my daily schedule is growing more aggressive, and I’m having to be a little more ruthless with my time. Compared to many people, I’m sure I have it really good, but the administrative and/or practical tasks of life of this month, that many might take for granted as easy (moving, practicing performing, budgeting, etc.) drain me like nobody’s business. Even things you’re excited about, when there’s a lot of them, can look like a gaping hole in the wall of a musical cave.  If you call and have a hard time getting a hold of me, for the next couple weeks, I apologize en avance, but here I give you some possible reasons .

And the thing I left on the ride was linking up my interview with Tyson Lynn from this month. For any and all who would like to listen to our conversation on Hollow Earth Radio, you may do so by clink this LINK TO AUDIO OF THE INTERVIEW.

Peace,
Steven

I Know You Well

What up cloud cover? Back already?

This week I’ve been digging lies out of my pocket and looking at them. By lies, I don’t necessarily mean the ones I’ve said, but the ones I’ve believed, or that I believe, even today. For instance, one lie would be, God doesn’t love me. Ridiculous, I know, but you might have believed this same thing that I have, but about yourself, and, well, it’s a lie. Some of them I didn’t even know I was believing until I heard it spoken and found it down there with my keys. Here’s another one, God can’t and/or won’t provide for my needs. I say that one a lot. Did it today even. You get the idea.

Do you do this too? Why would we do this? What’s worse than the initial disgust of looking at something false is figuring out I’ve been carrying it around willingly for weeks, months, years even! It’s no wonder I get depressed when I’ve got millstones hanging off my heart. What is there to be depressed about when everything is sustained by a God who calls himself by the name of Love?

I’m taking active steps to get these lies on the table so I can hit them with a hammer.
Hitting things with hammers is fun.

announcements and a chemist’s melting hat

Observation is a three meter diving board.  There is a season for standing, but the one thing you can’t learn from the ladder is how it feels to jump. How it feels to fall. For the most part, the past five days felt like a jumping week.

My most recent splashes:

It’s official; After some personnel changes, I am the new drummer of a band called Jubilee. The band has been around for about five years, and is a registered non-profit organization, giving half our earnings to the International Justice Mission and advocating alongside them for the currently estimated 27 million in modern day slavery.  The rhythm of practices and playing in a band again, especially with such talented, humble, and justice-minded brothers and sisters has been like a pair of rose-colored glasses the past couple weeks. My next show with them is on August 27 at the Nectar Lounge in Fremont. If you live in Seattle, I do hope you can join us.

I had the pleasure this week of chatting with Tyson Lynn of KEXP for his show Blues and Buster on the internet based radio station, www.hollowearthradio.com. The interview will air via live streaming this Thursday (8/12).

The French course I’ve been teaching with the Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle Summer U Program came to a close this week. Going into the celebration/performance to end the whole program, despite everything I’d learned through writing the course essentially as I went (all my previously prepared lesson plans were impossible, practically speaking), I was relieved that the course was over, still with positive hopes and expectations for future teaching with the League. But watching the students in my class get excited about performing songs and poems in French, as well as for their other electives from singing, to acting, to performing pieces they had written, getting to sit back and enjoy their talents… something within me grew nostalgic and regretful, almost feeling like I’d missed something. Like I hadn’t even known the kids in my class because I’d been so worried about my performance, and the agenda. Granted, you can’t throw out the need for practice, exercises, etc., but it made me want to incorporate those more next time, so the kids find a way to be excited about the subject. At least I’ll try to remember that the kids who provide difficulty in the class may just be thinking about what they’d rather be doing, and sometimes that thing is singing, or painting, or dancing, or writing, and I can definitely relate.

This week also included a lot of math and chemistry tutoring, especially in sub-subjects I’m rusty on. It’s a humbling thing to look at your student and say: Yeah, I really don’t know how to do that. Good luck.

I’ll stop there for now, with a huge CONGRATULATIONS to my friends in the Seattle Poetry Slam team at Nationals this week. 2nd place in group piece finals! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!

rest

Most people would have a different view of what recharges them than their blenders.

I am no different, and can even testify to the thorough discomfort of completing an electron chain. Lately I have rather found time alone in reflection or creativity to be the most gratifying way to rest. When I fight for the time to retreat, even a week full with meetings and commitments seems like such a privilege. This life, it is a privilege, you know. Each breath we draw, dispersing into the blood, off to the organs and back again, all right under and through our noses, is a privilege. But just as you and I did not set ourselves in motion this morning, I also cannot sustain the constancy of busyness.

My hammer misses the nail and breaks my finger. My eyelids collapse headfirst and forget to stand up. My blind finger presses the big red button (yes, that big red button). The button sends chaos down a wire to my friendships, and I leave work early, apologizing to a chemical fire of faces I love.

In that love, I encourage you as I have rebuked my mirror to find that thing that recharges you, be it quiet, or blank paper, or music, or lily and leaf, and fight for its sanctuaries, so all the other times, your pockets will be filled with the grace you need to give, and give, and give.

in this day

In this day, I am sick recovering, so much so I had to call in a substitute at work. (I, myself, am a substitute teacher. Part of me wonders if the real teacher had to come back). I have a feeling, this is only because life has been steady at my door as though there is not enough time. One could argue that there isn’t. But in the time that has passed since my last post, I have been surrounded with life. Here, I will share a portion.

From recent to not as recent:

• discussed and read poems on KSPU for the second time.
• watched one of my closest friends in Seattle baptized.
• shared the better part of a week with friends Grant Seifried and the Blacks.
• experienced my first win at a poetry slam.
• was declined for a full time math teaching job.
• chaperoned a 3-day 6th grade trip to Orcas Island (in the San Juans).
• had the honor of opening for Patricia Smith and the Seattle Poetry Slam’s Grand Slam (the finals).
• started year #23.

Once you take the clouds away,  Seattle is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, let alone lived. Last night my roommates and I played beach volleyball with a steep hill of broccoli-looking trees to our left, and the Puget Sound between us and a snow covered mountain horizoned, firy sunset to our right. Sporadically throughout the evening, sailboats, tankers, and ferries hovered silently through the scene. It took less than a half hour to drive there from our house, and the beach was less than crowded.  From what I hear, most nights of the summer are like this for anyone willing to receive them.

As time goes on, I am more and more amazed by how we are spoken to by the arts.  Below-the-skin conversations seem to flow naturally out of poetry, music, and  photography so regularly in most all my relationships (side note: not to neglect other art forms, I’m just no good at them so I usually don’t hang around in places where people who are really good at them meet ).  I believe that one of the ways we are made in God’s image is our ability to create, and in that, we see ourselves reflected in sets of words and arrangements of pigments and harmonies, helping us to change and see what is of greatest importance. This may be one reason why gangster rap and a lot of pop music is so disappointing – it consists of a great deal of production and hype while delivering very little in the way of substance. Kind of like seeing a big fantastic parade roll in slowly to town, only to find at the center of it all an adolescent in his first year of juggling. However, when a sentiment worth our full attention is presented in artistic form, those that appreciate it can step into a place of catharsis, mourning and celebration, loss and healing. Art provides us with an altogether different and limitless world to reflect upon God, ourselves, and the world around us, like dreams. It’s kind of addicting.

I’m not sure of the capacity that art (poetry and music specifically) will play in my future, but this stage of life has made them a natural means of thought and reflection.  I’m finding them a difficult, and undesirable, thing to shake.

So I share with you these two performances by Roger Bonair-Agard, originally from Trinidad, a two-time national slam champion and celebrated spoken word artist from his feature at the Seattle Poetry Slam. I recommend them both. God be with you.