Daffodils and Fires.

I was listening to Dave Barnes on the way home last night. In one of his songs he writes:

"Words can be

Daffodils

Or a fire in

An open field..."

I thought of this for a while and considered it with the old Proverb from the Bible:

The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences. (Proverbs 12:13).

Other translations simply say "those who love it will eat it's fruit." Which isn't to say "oh look out you're gonna get it if you open your mouth!" it means what you speak, be it good or bad, can effect future experiences in turn.

For those who know me, I am quite the pessimist to a fault. A trait I am trying desperately to fix. I speak death or negativity a million times a day. There are few conversations I'm involved in that don't in some part consist of "but what if" or "well, yes. Buuuut..." or "no that's not fair" or "that's ridiculous" or "that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard" (oddly enough, I can apparently hear the stupidest thing I've ever heard several times every day) or "seriously?" The list goes on and on. The sad part is, that anybody who knows me won't chuckle and think "what an exaggerator that Ben Rothwell is!" No no, they'll think "shoot. He does say all of those things."

I think this is bad. Rather, I know it's bad. The line in Dave Barnes' song that follows what I wrote before about words being a fire in an open field are:

"I'm sitting here

In the ash

Of stupid words

That I can't take back"

The bridge:

"There's a devil on my shoulder babe

And I believe too many things he says..."

I'm not sure if Dave Barnes just wrote this because if you've heard the melody it's one of the catchiest tunes in the world, or if it's because he and I are very similar, because, I'm sad to say, all of these things are true.

I am quick to judge, I'm quick to insult, I'm quick to presume anybody who says something I disagree with is a moron, I'm quick to be cocky, pompous, stuck up, sarcastic, sardonic, snappy (with a kiss of wittiness) and just down right rude. And as I was driving home last night, I turned off the radio and considered all of the ash I was sitting in. The bridges I had burned, the people I had hurt with the only consideration I ever had being "Well, at least I'm still right." It leaves me wondering how much being right is truly worth when in the end it buys me only the realization that I could have far greater and healthier relationships if I could be less of a pompous jerk and more of a compassionate friend.*

*Let it be noted that this isn't to say that people who have a healthy negative outlook are wrong. I thank God that I can look at things in a logical and thorough way when I need to! My problem is that I do it ALL of the time, not just when it's practical.

Maybe I'm just writing all of this out because I feel guilty, but I hope that it's because the past 24 hours of dwelling on this can fuel some sort of change. The fact of the matter is I'm really, really bad at not embarrassing people and actually living a loving, Christlike life. I don't want this to be the case anymore. I want to be different.

A challenge then: From now on, I'm going to try and speak daffodils instead of fire. If and when you hear me snap out next, remind me to take a deep breath and to remember that I would much rather speak daffodils than fire. Typically I just need to be reminded of things and I can do better... I really want to be compassionate and patient, accepting and loving. There are people in my life that deserve my understanding and my simply being able to let things go. I want to be that person, at least to a greater extent than what I have been thus far.

Anybody game to change this long-time pyromaniac into a gardner? Eh... In the most masculine way of course.

Pedro, Oh Pedro.

A long time ago, when I was about 9 years old, I sat against a doorpost facing my parents room. The door post that I was sitting against was at the entryway of my oldest brother Adam's room. Adam would talk to me if I sat outside his room but he would never invite me in. I guess it's one of those big brother things. Anyway, it's odd that on this particular occasion I had gained one of the longest lasting impressions of my life.

As Adam messed around with things in his room he pulled out a small EP case that he had been "looking for." I turned my head around the corner in the middle of his excitement and saw this small, brown case with a lion sitting down with his back to the artist who drew it. When Adam excitedly placed the CD in his enormous CD player and skipped immediately to track 5 (I still remember the track) I heard one of the most simple but haunting melodies that my ears have ever had the good fortune of hearing. A song called "Lullaby", by David Bazan, the lead singer and song writer for a band known as "Pedro the Lion."

It's a simple melody written in the key of C, mediocre in whatever complexities it may have, and it is single handedly the song that has impacted me more than any other in my life. From that time, only hearing it once, until the CD was dug up again 5 years later, I never forgot the chorus. The very song that's, no matter where I've found myself in life, chorus always creeps its way back into my head and reminds me who I am. The song I've sung to myself a thousand times over on the most difficult of days...

Today is one of those days. There are few things more frustrating to me as a person than my own inability to do what I know I should. When I know how I should act, what I should think, what I should say, but my own stresses and frustrations and pains cause me to say something entirely different. That frustrating characteristic of my personality has shown its ugly head many times in the past week or so. I should be okay, I should be at peace but for some reason I continually react and lash out.

Having done so again today and feeling guilty for it, I picked up my guitar to see if I could simply "play it out" of my system. No matter how many melodies I created, no words would come out. I remained silent and upset. Confused. Overwhelmed. Wanting to apologize to the person I just lashed out at but unable to do so I was forced to just sit there and continue to brood with my dull and uncreative melodies. Suddenly, I played a C chord and followed it by the intro to David Bazan's lullaby to himself. I found myself hidden in the corner of my office replaying the chords again and again and crying to myself as I replaced the authors name with my own...

Rest in me, little David

And dry all your tears

You can lay down your armor

And have no fear

'Cause I'm always here

When you're tired of running

I'm all the strength that you need

I find myself crying again just at typing it out.

Sometimes I guess I need to realize that all of my frustrations and excuses are just weak attempts at justification for running. I am finite and weak and I consistently fall short, and rather than fix my issues I excuse them. I fight to correct the people around me so that I can remain comfortable and unchanged. Writing my issues off as typical Ben Rothwell qualities...

I know I can't be perfect, but that doesn't mean I need to fight forever in hopes of fixing everyone else.

I'm sorry that I always argue, that I fight. That everything has to be black and white and it all has to make sense. That if something is said and that something doesn't happen, that I view it as a hostile attack on my well being. I'm sorry that my blatant disregard for people who are different results in me being a terrible example of Christ. I don't know why I do it, and I know that it hurts people around me. I'll fix it, I promise.

Maybe some days I just need to be reminded to lay down my armor and give up... to stop fighting at least long enough to realize that it's done me no good, and I should just find rest in the arms of my savior...