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.

National Poetry Month

is this month, as stated in the last post. Instead of posting poems here I have set up another blog at blogspot whose address is: http://www.evenwilbur.blogspot.com/ that will have a new rough draft of a poem posted every day ’til the end of April! Please feel free to read and comment with any feedback. Thank you! – Steven

1/30

For the next 30 days, for National Poetry Month, many poets will be writing and posting a new poem online everyday. This is my first as a participant in the festivities, a free-write from a Humanities class I was substitute teaching for. Enjoy!

To Chairman Mao:

I am the grass.
I have let myself down into the resistance to say “stay.”
I will play to your posters sizes of buildings.
I will bow to your limo as it kicks dust
on the feet of your prisoner lovers
but I have laid myself so virus
that even after you have
heard radio talk of my
underground you
will never dig
out my last
riot.
I will be the sore spot in your eye,
the moon in your sky as you wish
to paint yourself with stars
I am the laughter at your funeral, the gravity
as you leap for pantheon
I am the humans buried in the Great Wall of China,
I am the bee stinging your fist and I am
never letting go.

lay claim

I have not written in some time, and to any that would have liked to read more, I apologize.

Much has happened in the past few months,  Here’s a quick update before a longer following post:

1. Went to Colleyville, Denton, Colorado, New York, and back again for Christmas!
   
2. Was interviewed and read poems on Seattle Pacific’s radio station, KSPU. DJ Con Queso (Bekah Grim), Ben, and I had a great time! Audio of the interview can be found at kspu.org under Media > Interviews.
   
3. Realized I’ve been Seattling into this city for more than 6 months… :)
   
   

This week I had the privilege of seeing Jeanann Verlee and J.W. Baz at the Seattle Poetry Slam and then saw J.W. Baz’s show, No One Can Fix You, Friday night at the Fremont Abbey.  Over an amazing 90-minute monologue, he masterfully brought the room through past struggles and addictions in a way that had the whole room laughing one minute and silent under the weight of his words the next. The show was a seamless journey through heart-wrenching poems and painfully honest narratives. If you live close to anywhere he will be, I strongly recommend you attend the show. Check it out.

What I really want to discuss are reasons I couldn’t sleep when I got home.  After the show, my friend Dave (we met while at North Texas) and I talked about the artist life over sweet potato fries and waters. We are reminded clearly in Baz’s show that sacrifice is necessary to live as an artist. On the front end, and perhaps for the rest of life, there is little financial security, even after the countless hours on the road (which, for the spoken word artist are likely spent alone), and even at home your time is dictated by the need to create both opportunities to create and for others to hear/see you perform. Also, to have enough time for honing his/her craft, it seems an artist oftentimes must forfeit his/her full time job doing something else, unless perhaps if it is related to the art. I use the word ‘must’ loosely, because I personally know seriously talented artists who also work full time, but it seems that anyone who is making waves in their respective field came to a fork in the road between ‘normal job’ and go-for-broke-on-my-art and stepped with confidence down the latter path.  In brief conversations with Baz after the show, he assuredly spoke the truth he is now living – If you want something, you have to live like it’s yours, like you deserve to be there – No one is waiting for to find yet another writer, yet another sax player, yet another painter, yet another band, that is worth showcasing.  Some would even argue that these are the last thing the world needs. I would argue opposite them, but this is the sad truth of world we live in.

So the artist is left with a choice. Act like you’re serious business and mean it, or enjoy your art as a hobby. There’s nothing wrong with hobbies – they are perfect for anyone wanting to enjoy an activity without the pressure of needing to perform at a certain level. Yet, while freeing in its own way, the hobby leaves those who thrive on that challenge, or as Baz put it in his show, realize “I was made for this,” wanting, and oftentimes looking in hindsight with regrets.

We enter college, or don’t, with grand expectations for the future. Learn to learn, to live, to love. We graduate, some marry, some wait, some never do. We get jobs and certificates and maybe graduate degrees. We move one time, two times, five times. Get some land. Buy a car. Buy a house if you can. Blink. 60th birthday.

This is your life. What did you do? For those at this point, to look back on ones life with pure regret would be unfair. The life you live is a life; this magnificent fact should never be forgotten. And there is still today. What do you want to learn – today? Charge those mountains as if you were in your 20s and all you have to lose is yourself. But to the people who still see 40 as the top of the hill, what hills will you die on? Where are you going? Will you thank the God who lifts the sun over our horizons for these days, for your breath, with the way you populate them? Will the candles on that cake be jealous of you for the way you glow, or will your dreams look like their smoke? Please do not misinterpret these words – I am in no way criticizing self-sacrifice for others’ sake or laying aside your passions to further justice and Love in our world.  It is quite the opposite, I couldn’t be encouraging that more. The men and women who work 1,2, and 3 jobs to provide for their families live and die every day by their convictions based on the situation and need before them. The singer or business worker with a promising-future-as-Wall-Street-calls-it who moves to India to feed and heal the sick has discovered a deep something of love and the urgency of our lives, our humanity, that news headlines frequently tell us is all but gone from our world. They have given up sitting idly by, asking for direction, and obeyed what they are persuaded is truth until put on a different course.  I believe we are missing something if we do not follow their example.

We must lay claim to the thresholds that are placed in front of us. Our lives are but moments. Write sentences of your memoir every time you wake, so one day we will gaze smiling at each other through old birthday candles, retelling rock-bottoms and hit-our-head-on-the-clouds ceilings, rejoicing for the ways our bodies were used to inspire and love, like fertilizers for dying earth.

clouds must enjoy good espresso. they are in seattle every morning.

I have grown weary of merely writing updates about my life, which I consider to be no more worthy of the internet than anyone else’s. So I’m not going to write an update.

“‘ All things are lawful,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful,’ but not all things build up. Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor.”
1 Corinthians 10:23-24

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved.” 1 Corinthians 10:31-33

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

Jesus is not after our pens and to-do lists.
Jesus is not after our smug looks in evening bathroom mirrors.
Jesus did not give us liberty for a weapon deep as words.

He is after our hearts. That we would be changed at the root of ourselves to be vessels of mercy and self-sacrifice. That we would ambassadors of the love He showed us, which knows no end.

I am learning these days that if you want someone to know what you mean, you can’t just throw out a word like ‘love’ without giving it a backbone, so,

love is doing your roommates’ chores three weeks in a row.
love is my mother and father thinking about things I might need, before I do.
love is hiding the beer when your Pakistani Christian brother is staying with you.
love is sitting through an hour of mediocre poetry to support your friend for 3 minutes,
and listening,
love is caring about friends’ passions more than your own,
love is hot lemonade for a sick roommate,
love is 8 hours in an emergency room lobby,
and next day’s 8 hours of work on 3 hours sleep,
love is your bearing,
love is setting aside forty mental years to invest in a child,
love is looking through a black eye with compassion,
love is driving to Houston every weekend to sit in ICU silence,
love is obedience,
love is submission,
love is steadying a just hand,
love is dying for people who hate you,

“Love is patient and kind;
love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude.
It does not insist on its own way;
it is not irritable or resentful;
it does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.
Love bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.”
1 Cor. 13:4-7

On buses, sidewalks, and in coffee shops, it feels sometimes like my fellow Seattle dwellers and I are walking down isolated hallways that just happen to be next to each other for minutes at a time. The walls are made of ipods, laptops, and planners, and we are content to marvel at them as we walk.

Today I have grown weary of writing updates because I have grown weary of my hallway.

Lord, let us represent you well.
Let us build doors where we are scarred,
food banks in place of safety deposit boxes,
and crosses where there are mirrors.
Let us love.

God is good!

Hey there everybody! I don’t have much to say, just a few wonderful things!

a) I have a job now teaching math to students at their houses. Thanks, God!

b) Tickets are booked for me to be in Denton on December 18/19 and 27/28. I would love to see you on those days!

c) My roommate Brian is getting married this weekend hooray!

d) Both of the events I discussed in my last post (Poetry in Bellingham, Semi-Finals at the Seattle Poetry Slam) were awesome! I didn’t win one of the top two spots like we were all trying to do, but God is opening doors to share His love with people, which is way more important! Yipee!

e) Love, Steven

what? an update

These are things coming up that I am excited about:

1. This Tuesday night after voting I’ll be going up to Bellingham to see this:Robbie Q. has a poem called “2002 Silver Chevy Cavalier” that is quite funny but I feel I can’t put it on here in case some youngsters watch it. “Dyno-Dudez” is clean and great. You may check it out on Youtube if you wish.
Anis Mojgani won National Poetry Slam Champion in 2005 and 2006. I’ve put his stuff on here before.
Buddy Wakefield won Individual World Poetry Slam Champion in 2004 and 2005. I’ve attached one of his poems below in video form
Derrick Brown has been a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne, gondolier on Blind Date, magician, and weatherman (there’s a video showing clips of him doing the weather in Flagstaff, it is one of the funniest things I’ve seen to air television). I encourage you to check him out if you like laughing and great poetry.

2. This Wednesday night I’ll be competing in the first Semi-Final Round for the Slam this year. What this means is – if anyone gets first or second place on Wednesday, they secure a chance to compete for the Seattle Nationals team in the spring. As you might perceive, this would be awesome. The list of competing poets is as follows: Karen Finneyfrock, Maya Hersh, Sarah Sapienza, Greg Bee, Steven Wilbur, Jack McCarthy, Hollis Wear and Sara Brickman. If you live close to Seattle and have even a remote interest in poetry, you’ll want to be there.

Not everything has been hunky dory, but for the next few days, when guessing about my state of mind, you may safely assume I’m having the time of my life.

Buddy Wakefield

Derrick Brown as Weatherman

and as a bonus – Derrick Brown performing “Cheap Rent”

Peace.

longing

[Brief summary of week: I've been an unlikely drummer in jams on jazz standards, Billy Cobham, and Frank Zappa tunes with some killer players, written more poetry, performed poetry, interviewed, applied, heard cello playing that reminded me of how I feel sometimes about our future with God in heaven, and also done the more 'normal' but wonderful things that I tend to take for granted, like cooking.]

“All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.” Psalm 38:9

David writes this feeling the weight of sin and worldly opposition to/misunderstanding of him. Though whatever afflictions I have experienced seem to pale in comparison to those David underwent,  as I drank possibly the most wonderful apple cider my mouth has known this evening in our basement, this verse was the resonance of my heart.

What is it to long? Not to want, or think would be cool, or take interest in, or even be “totally down” with…those words are not enough. My heart is longing. Longing for God; for more; for truer, purer love; for magnificence; for the heart-thumping rivers of life patiently waiting in God’s storehouses for those He loves.

Despite what my fervor for mathematics and logic might cause people to assume, I have known myself to be a romantic at times, making the question at hand something I might address more often than some. (or maybe not, I don’t know. I’m only seeing life to the detail I see it from my perspective from my perspective. Limited data leads to shortsighted conclusions…correct me if I’m wrong…right…moving on…) For whatever reason (I say whatever reason, but really, I believe this is God’s plan for us), each new place of fulfillment leads its brother of desire for the ‘immeasurably more’ (paraphrase of an Ale James quote). It’s there. Immeasurably more, that is. God is immeasurably more.

Living more as the person God has made me to be, in the place he has prepared me to live in for this period of time, has been incredible, without a doubt, like organic Washington apple cider from a new friend. But tonight, my grateful mouth and I are up dreaming about orchards in valleys where the rivers run hot. We are longing.

“Truth seems like a table.”

In 1974, Tower of Power released an album called Urban Renewal, which had a groove-tastic song on it called “Only So Much Oil In The Ground”. One stanza reads as follows:

“There’s only so much oil in the ground
Sooner or later there won’t be none around
Alternate sources of power must be found
Cause there’s only so much oil in the ground”

I’m surprised we haven’t seen McCain or Obama throwing this down over the undeniable, face-melting grooves of drummer David Bartlett and bassist Francis Rocco Prestia during their campaigns. Anyway…

The whole non-employment thing is starting to hurt a little more. I know that among other things, God is teaching me to rely on Him, but it is not easy. He has provided healthy, affordable food through Trader Joe’s, wonderful Christian community in my roommates, and avenues to use the God-given gifts of poetry and music. However, without a rhythm or consistency in my day that includes work, it becomes difficult to know how much time I can be devoting to certain activities. The self-imposed schedule is developing, and I know I want to ideally be involved in education, so I am taking steps toward that. Grad school applications, job application, standardized test taking, studying, applying for jobs, applying for jobs, writing, reading, and spending time with people have all been things I do, and do a lot even, but it still feels like I’m running in a hamster cage. While missing some of the essentials, it’s hard to see the non-essentials as worth the time, though it could be that God is giving me this time to invest in those things, providing just enough subbing, etc. to give me what I need, allowing me to not be not bogged down by an 8-9 hour/day schedule. Questions, questions. If you could pray that I’d get a teaching job at the Northwest School next month, I would greatly appreciate it. Secretly, or I guess not so secretly, this is what I hope God has in his reserves.

On a more positive note, I started a Spoken Word writing/performance class on Saturday with Daemond Arrindell, educator and ‘Slam-master’ of the Seattle Poetry Slam. He had a lot of encouraging and constructively critical things to say. It’s so awesome getting feedback from the guy that’s coached the last 5 Seattle National Teams, two of which had National Champions on them. Looking forward to more of that, for sure. The title of this post was a free-writing practice prompt we had. A side note about free writing: much like freestyle rapping, the words that end up being produced are a truer reflection of what is actually going on in your mind at the subconscious level, without the analytical part of your brain a.k.a. moral P.C. filter kicking in. It’s difficult looking at what I’m actually the quickest to say or write, like taking liquid Robitussin, or smelling mold. Praise the Lord for His grace. That’s all I’ll say about that.

I miss you Denton dwellers. It’s alright almost all the time, I mean, it needs to be stated that God’s given me awesome friends up here, but recent phone conversations have gotten me, and it’s no fun to get got. It seems natural that we could end it with “hey wanna go to Waffle House later?” and meet up around 11 for waffles and hash browns, but I know that it will not be. I don’t even think Waffle House has any stores up here. Nope, checked the website, they don’t. I suppose that’s best for the collective Northwest’s health’s sake.

Recent happenings:

1. Saw friends Kim and Blake. Blake, Kim, and I went to high school together. Blake then went to UNT and now lives in Portland. Kim was visiting for the weekend. It was a grand time.

2. Hiking in the Cascades on a beautiful sunny day.

(that’s Puget Sound in the distance)

3. Getting involved with church music ministry. Super rad.
4. Roommate tennis-court dodge ball after a day of rain.
5. The random run-ins with people I know around the city have begun. They make it feel a little more like home.

Truth seems like a table

People sewing their holy books into table cloths to cover it,
spilling their juices and ales on it,
resting their feet.
I slept on a table last night
It was the best sleep I’ve had since my post-op hospital beds
the gentle warmth of grace and sedatives loosing their hold
Tables have four legs, like sheep and lions
but those are always going places
My father built the first table we ever had at home.
Over time it became worn, broken, and chipped, but it was still there
like truth

Peace in Christ and Christ alone,

Steven

“I can make my life in Washington”

- Darcy. Check them out. They’re super rad. If you read this in time, go to their CD release show tonight. I’d be there if I wasn’t here where I am, which is not where it is.

I get to quote that in surface level conversation.

Denton to Seattle is a long drive, though it’s safe to say that there are longer drives to be driven (we met a couple on the way up that drove from Virginia to Tuscon to Seattle). Over the 3 days, including about 37 hours of car time, I had a delightful time with my amazing mother, who helped drive and arrange logistics for the first few days of my life in Seattle. It was difficult to leave such close friends as these (for Charlotte Street people, this is taking a long time and I will get more pictures up later, know that I got love for you):

Some know that this summer was a season of doubt and struggle in my faith in Christ. I sit behind this computer to say that through the process of preparation and moving here, I have felt and seen God restoring me; giving me faith to trust Him, abundantly pouring His joy on me as I rest in Him for provision of most things I take for granted, like a place of residence, a job, a church home, and a tightly knit community of friends. He has been giving me new relationships and friendships with people who are supportive and share the passion to see God’s kingdom on earth. It’s beautiful to be up here and see people in love with Christ.

I do miss home and the people who live there. From time to time, that sentiment is as real as the ground under my feet. But in all honesty, this week has felt as much like breathing as anything else. That’s not to say that I wasn’t ‘breathing’ in Denton, but I think I’m feeling what it’s like to walk in faith in the place God has brought me. The nature, arts, frequent cyclists, conversation, and need. The newness of the city will fade, like this only-in-dreams weather we’ve been having, but I can say that God has led me here. From the start of our trip right up to this moment He has surrounded me with His love, giving me people, providing appointments, and arranging the best of circumstances. Like, for instance, driving across the whole of southern Wyoming, northern Utah, and North Oregon we drove by “CAUTION: HIGH WINDS” signs and highway wind barriers in total tranquility. Pulling a trailer, this was a God-send. Aside from one gas station, there was always an easy-to-pull-in spot long enough for our car and trailer combo that was on the right side of the car to fill up. We had no flats, no trailer troubles, no car breakdowns, and no theft. The Lord provided a month of free storage in a unit twice as big as U-Haul would normally give as part of their services. The night after I turned down a teaching job in faith, I was put in contact with the librarian at Northwest School by my former neighbor – we had lunch the next day and it seems that at the very least I can substitute teach there and possibly tutor in the meantime. Dave Dolengewicz,  a friend of mine from my former church gig moved here a little while before I did, and we’ll continue our friendship where it left off! My former neighbors in Colleyville are moving back up to Bellingham next month and they’ve given me direction in the job search as well as deep encouragement. I competed at the Seattle Poetry Slam this week and was received with open arms by poets I’ve admired, watched, and listened to for months. Home cooked meals, couches to sleep on, and haircuts (thanks Natalie) are readily available and I’ve only been here for 4 days.

I feel His arms around me.

Here’s a quick summary of things that have happened this week.

God reminded me of friendships along the way.

and again.

visited the loneliest woman in the smallest town in the United States.

shared an afternoon at the arboretum with dear friend Charlie and dearer friend Natalie.

saw once in a lifetime breathtaking sky masterpieces.

some boats joined us for a little while, too.

stayed near the most natural car wash ever.

Dinner at the Spit Fire, host of the Seattle Poetry Slam

competed in the first official slam of the year...

and got third place!

A quick note about the poetry slam – it was in the same moment humbling and emboldening.  It’s been a while since I was in a band or part of anything where I invited friends to pay money to watch me perform, and even this first week I felt so loved by friends as they supported me. God answered prayer in ways that I can’t express, making the hope I had to join the poetry community of Seattle a tangible idea, allowing me to do well and start relationships with such talented poets from the get-go. I look forward to getting to know them and building friendships with them, and grin ear to ear thinking about the possibilities of my growth as a follower of Christ and an artist this year.

Additional quick note: my mom wouldn’t let me take pictures of her, which is why there aren’t any shown.

Thank you for your prayers, I’ve felt them this week like you wouldn’t know. Please don’t hesitate to let me know how I can pray for you. It would be my delight.

Love,
Steven