Golden Age

So I've officially decided that my style of filmmaking...or rather the way I like to hold a video camera is that of old British 60s Music Programs. I don't know if that's weird to say. I just love the movement, the saturation, and that attention to production design. They are so over-produced and it seems like some golden moment in time that could have never actually happened. There's a certain eerie materialism to it all too.

Notes from an Airport Pt. 2

A collection of stuff I wrote down through my recent trip to Utah...


I am caught up by the words, "And it came to pass"
The phrase is so widely used in scripture to start thoughts and transition between verses. Normally I just skim past it. But I realized that there is so much more meaning behind it.

It's simplicity reminds us that all things pass. Nothing is permanent unless we choose to make it seem that way. God extends His loving hands for us to use as both an anchor and a sail.
_____________________

A slim Asian man purrs and coos, his crying daughter resting against his shoulder. Her small hands wrap around his neck and meet at the foot of his balding head.
He is eternally patient, reassuring his restless child with a steady hand and fluid rocking motion. The window reflects a plane lifting off the runway from the other side of the terminal. He watches it glide softly through the air as the baby's cries subside.
_____________________

"When I was a child, my grandmother told me that the sky speaks to those who look and listen to it. She said, 'In the sky, there are always answers and explanations for everything; every pain, every suffering, joy, and confusion.' That night I wanted the sky to talk to me."
A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah
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Ether 2: 24
"For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the winds have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the drains and the floods have I sent forth."
-So much beauty...
Anchor and sail.
_____________________

I push my eye lids together with unrelenting force as the plane begins its climb into the sky. "Be Still, My Soul" rings clear above the boom of the engine. I open my eyes to see illuminated cityscapes. There is a patchwork quilt of crisscrossing streets and newly paved parking lots. The stars cry out in unison to an empty night sky and my mind can relate.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
A fierce winter storm throws punches on both sides of the plane. My eyes can't focus on the world below with the constant turbulence-the cityscapes become long exposure light trails as my head bobs against the plastic window.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
My heart leaps at the thought. My mind is no longer running. I close my eyes and see God's arm outstretched from the heavens. Worldy thoughts and desires fall with the heavy snow outside. I am with my Savior, limp in his eternal arms, my head resting on his shoulder.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

My eyes open and I see.

Drawn out Metaphor

Ok, I'm probably taking this metaphor way too far. But think of it in the context of "Love".


I build elaborate sandcastles only to have waves knock them down.
I put so much of myself into it only to see it washed away within seconds.

But the joy is in the process. It's the building, figuring out the design. You're on your toes, anticipating the waves by building temporary blockades. And when that ultimate wave hits, you're left in utter despair, wondering if it was even worth building in the first place. Why spend so much time, so many tireless hours to have it debilitated in seconds?

But sometimes, you manage to create something beautiful that lasts. It's far enough away from the rising tide. It makes all of the previous attempts seem all worthwhile.
I thought I'd found it, maybe I have, maybe I haven't.

For now, I'm still frivolously building, trying to keep the waves out, trying to appreciate the process.

I'm not giving up that easy.

Sunny D

There is a certain peace


In walking side by side with someone you admire


My heart isn't leaping, my mind isn't racing,


My whole being simply acknowledges the missing puzzle piece I've just acquired.

Notes on a Reverie

Quantic beats vibrate the dull fabric. Horns blare from all sides and I cannot tell if they are from passing cars or the speakers. Pure joy exudes from every pore as I haphazardly dance within the constraints of the drivers seat. The wheel is my bongo drum, the sides of my legs the snare. I notice my foot is lead and as I ease off the gas. The music flows through every inch of my being. I can hear every individual note and the chills flow down my spine. I scream and yelp and indulge in every raw feeling that surfaces.
Are human beings capable of living in such ecstasy at will? The ground as my witness, I've been through difficult times. But there are certain switches I can flip at any time and I'm floating above. For as long as I remember, even before I recognized myself as a person of faith, I attributed this raw passion to God. How else could my mind and body synchronize so perfectly with a given moment without divine creation? It's one of my strongest testimonies.

And now Quantic's Descarga! mix illuminates the lightposts I travel under. The vibration pulses and the horns blare and the percussion is in sync with my hands. Thoughts of her fly between the passing cars and exit ramps.

Music is a religious experience.