a new name.

You may have noticed, this blog has a new name.

Wide-eyed, and filled with wonder.

Calling this space "The Next Step" didn't really feel appropriate anymore. Its not that I've lost interest in the next step, its just that I've been challenged for quite some time to think of what is immediate, and not about what is next. Its been a long lesson for me to learn what it means to be fully present. I still have nearly no idea, but I am finally learning.

All I can tell you is that the moments when I've later realized that I was fully present are the most whole and fulfilling moments I have ever experienced. It isn't necessarily that something profound or important occurs during them, its just that momentarily everything is whole. I'm not fragmented.

All that to say, I'm not as interested in learning what the next step is as I am in being exactly where I am (well, in theory). And once I'm there, to be able to find that all things are laced with beauty and mystery. All things are laced with God.

I've been learning that the more I am aware of the Divine, the more I become aware of the Divine. Sounds silly and redundant, but its true.

God has been everywhere.

And you all have been teaching me. Whether or not you know it (and you probably don't), you have. In his book "Honey From the Rock", Lawrence Kushner describes what I'm trying to say:

"While those on errands of this world almost always know that they are sent and where and why, people chosen to be messengers of the Most High rarely even know that they are His messengers. Unsuspecting and unaware. Consumed by their own plans and itineraries. Busy at work on their own schemes. God is already sending them somewhere else.

There must have been a time when you entered a room and met someone and after a while you understood that unknown to either of you there was a reason you had met. You had changed the other or he had changed you. By some word or deed or just by your presence the errand had been completed. Then perhaps you were a little bewildered or humbled and grateful. And it was over.

And so we understand that ordinary people are messengers of the Most High. They go about their tasks in holy anonymity. Often, even unknown to themselves. Yet, if they had not been there, if they had not said what they said or did what they did, it would not be the way it is now. We would not be the way we are now. Never forget that you too yourself may be a messenger.

Remember only that you are not always going where you are going for the reasons you think you are."

And so, you may be malachey elyon (messengers of the Most High). Many of you are completely unaware that you have been this in my life. I'm not sure if its presumptuous to say, but I said it. And those of you who think its least likely that it has been you--its you.

Its as though the one thing that I'm in need of is the one thing that is given to me from the place I least expect it. And this is becoming routine. And I'm finding myself wide-eyed, and filled with wonder.

i have a cold.

i have a cold. photobooth doesn't work right on my computer. these are the first real color pictures it has ever taken. but not when i told it to. it just takes pictures whenever it wants.

other things to notice:
1. i'm in the desert (i don't mean emotional desert. "i'm in a glass case of emotion!" but really, look behind me.)
2. to my surprise, i just alluded to anchor man for the second time in my personal blogging history.
3. my bangs look blonde (!?)
4. my pupils really are always huge.

even coldplay borrows.

i have a theory about writing music. the theory is that no one can actually write something completely original. whether or not the composer is aware, we're always borrowing. borrowing words, ideas, progressions, melodies. lets face it, we're borrowers.

i submit to you that even coldplay borrows.

the good news about judgment

the good news about judgment is that i can choose to live under it, or i can choose to live outside of it.


this can become a swift path to dangerous arrogance, but if it is done with humility and grace it can become a live-giving path to freedom.

hey west michigan

are you coming?
register to walk with Mars here. this saturday.

Johnny or bust.

My friend Johnny is someone you would like to meet if you haven't.

Johnny is an artist. Here are some of his paste ups outside of Kava House.



He painted this picture of Nelson Mandella and it matches my old music room.
He buys from American Apparrel (I don't want to talk about it)and then prints shirts like these:

And even these so I can sell things:
Chicago.
Seattle.

There's a boy shirt too. Just not here.

He's cool.

on sacred moments, the divine, beauty, and kate's wedding.

The attitude of Kate's wedding day was one of excitement, anticipation, and joy. We were all tasked with certain responsibilities—and in a good rhythm of getting things done. The chatter was high. We were all filled with excitement and nervousness. Some of us were gathered in the bride’s room a couple hours before the ceremony when the time came for Kate to put on her wedding gown.

If you have never been present during the time of putting a wedding gown on a bride, you should know that it is one of the most exciting and stressful moments of the day. It requires several people and a lot of hands to delicately help the bride into her gown with out ruining her hair or makeup, without snagging a bead or thread, and without wrinkling or stepping on the gown. Every woman in the room simultaneously gives her opinion at an unusual level of volume about how it should be done. If you listen closely, you can even hear the muffled cries of the bride (coming from within the gown), who always seems to be momentarily forgotten or at least becomes temporarily less important than her gown.

As this whole scenario was taking place, I watched and snapped photos of the chaos.

And then: the great moment came when Kate was finally in her gown. It was the most amazing thing. Only moments ago she was my ordinary friend—but is instantly transformed.

Just like that, she is a bride.

No one expresses it, but everyone knows it: this moment is sacred. Only seconds before, we were laughing and shouting, but now our tones are gentle. There are tears in our eyes, and we all look on at Kate’s beauty. Her presence is radiant. We speak softly; some of us whisper. We don’t know how to say it, but our voices reflect that we know this moment is sacred, and in our whispers we are responding with humility. There is a heightened sense of the divine.

She was an ordinary girl.

But now, she is a bride.

i'm glad i quit.

notice "rhythm & pitch". there are certain things I feel would be a prerequisite to being a music major. but you'd be surprised.

hope

"I don't want to write a sad song. We all already know how bad things can be. I try to see the beauty--and taste the golden autumn wind and smell the sunlight in the air. No, the sun doesn't choose who it shines on. We're all dreamers here, you know? We're all dreamers here, and I think it will all come true for me and you."


also, how beautiful is this:

"an honest answer is like a kiss on the lips." prov.24v26

october 12

i have tickets to see mute math.

hold

me

back.

on a side note, i'm not sure there's a collective group of men whose sense of style can cause me to question my own sense of style (or lack thereof) like they can.

rockin.

she could take you, easy.

this little girl is a fighter. look how far she has come:


Go Chloe.

we have many layers.

but I would like to get to know you.

music

I forgot to talk enough about this show: The Cinematics.

I haven't forgotten about Sue's comment regarding Grand Rapids: "Living here is like living in a culture-free zone". I will elaborate later, I promise.

Until then, here are some shots from a show that I think was embarrassing for Grand Rapids for the aforementioned reason.

What a talented little scottish man. I'm not sure he's even 5'5". He compensates with everything he does musically.
The Cinematics make me dance.

Also, I mentioned that The Mines opened. Here's a great shot of Troy reflecting the lights on his head.

stats

8. I have lived in eight different cities.

16. I have called sixteen different buildings my home.

I count myself as having "lived in" a place if my time there exceeded one month. If I stretch it to three months, the city count stays the same, and my home count only decreases by one.

I'm either very well-adjusted, or very maladjusted.

a little late.

Its a little late, but here's a quick recap on Nashville from a few weeks back...

I went to Nashville in a car with five girls:
We got in lots of traffic jams.

We left on Monday morning. This is what we look like on Monday morning.


We walked around Belmont. I thought about going to college there once.

We went to The Pancake Pantry. Not worth the sweat.

I bought Franny and Zooey while I was waiting, which made things better. I bought it from a used bookstore, and on the inside of the book someone wrote in pencil "Sometimes I miss you." It makes me smile.

I hung out with Daley and his friend Lacey for a few hours. Daley took some amazing photos. I like him. Lacey is sweet and cute and she drove us around. I like her.

Later that night, the girls made me do girly things like go shopping, go line dancing, and see The Nanny Diaries. This is me and Michele at the Wild Horse Saloon. We were kind of twinsies.
A few photos can always cure a bad attitude.



We also did girly things like drink cosmopolitans... Sometimes I like being girly.

Michele was sad when her cosmo was gone.
Stay classy, Opryland.

i survived.

Its something I've been dreading since the day I learned about it: your wisdom teeth have got to go.

This past Friday morning, I braved the nightmare and did it.

I sat in the waiting room with my brother, Josh, filling out all the paperwork. When I realized that I was signing my name on a line telling them it was ok if they accidentally killed me, I looked and Josh and told him I couldn't read it anymore.

It really was a funny experience--the actual surgery part. My big tall goofy looking Dutch doctor (Huizinga, respectively) walked in the room and exclaimed, "Julie, I have some news about you! You're O-L-D OLD!" Thanks for those encouraging words.

I think they gave me about every anesthetic possible. They started with what Dr. Dutch called an "appetizer"...which was laughing gas. I had a riveting conversation while under the influence of the laughing gas with the Dr.'s Assistant about how I am a "lazy vegan". Captivating, I'm sure. Then they administered the real drugs through an IV. When they were hooking up the IV I told them it was the part I was the most scared of. When she was done she asked "Is it hurting you?" I shook my head, smiled, and said "No, only in my head."
Then Dr. Dutch said "So, Julie, what do you do with your time when you're not at the dentist?"
"I'm a musician."
They looked at each other, smiled, and said "What kind of a musician?"
"I sing. I play piano. I write."
Another smile.
"What kind of music?"
"Um...." I remember pausing here, for what felt like ten minutes, before saying, "Oh, I don't know.....Rockish Popish Jazz or something."
They looked at each other and smiled again.
"So Julie, are you going to sing for us?"
"No, not unless you sing for me first."
All I remember from this point was the Dr.'s singing Mary Had A Little Lamb, and by the time they were through the first line, I was out.

I realize it is quite possible that I sang for them. Part of me hopes I did.

So all in all, I survived, and had a pleasant experience with Dr. Dutch and his assistant.

When I got home and woke up after the anesthesia wore off, Josh and I watched an episode of Friends. Josh though he'd sneak a picture of me because he thought I looked like a ninja.
What can I say? Its how I roll.

i had a moment.

Here's an excerpt from a recent journal entry of mine:

"Looking back, the whole afternoon just feels like a figment of my imagination. I think its because the whole time I was totally engaged and totally unaware of my existence…Just comfortable, enjoying myself, living. Maybe that’s why my memory of it is somehow clear, but almost fictitious feeling--maybe that’s what its like when you recall something that you were fully present for. The things I’d usually remember when I’m telling myself that I exist are different than the things that I remember when I’m unaware and fully present."

I had a Lawrence Kushner moment.

in bullet points....

A few items of interest:

+Betsy, Keith and I saw The Cinematics last night. They rocked my socks off. I still can't seem to locate them. The Mines opened. They rocked too.

+Speaking of The Mines, Troy asked me yesterday if I want to be part of the music team in the Shed. Then this morning I got a phone call because Kent is wondering if I'll join his team in the Shed. I've been here for four years, brothas! Why a month before I leave? I was trying to explain to Rob that I can't do it this Sunday because I'm getting my wisdom teeth out, he said in his quick undercut kind of manner: "Well what's the problem? There's no problem here. Do you play the piano with your teeth? There's no problem."

+Lawrence Kushner is my favorite author.

+The Chinese government recently passed a law making it illegal for the Dali Lama to reincarnate without government approval. I'm no reincarnation buff, but I can't imagine how that would complicate the whole reincarnation process....

+The most exciting thing to happen today at Flannel were the elephants in the street.

+Today Sue put into words what I've been trying to say about Grand Rapids for years...."Living here is like living in a culture free zone." THANK YOU, Sue. Thank you. More on this idea later.

+I'm writing a series of essays called "I Didn't Ask For A Story". I figure if all of my attempts at a performing arts career fail, I ought to brush up on my writing skills so I can become an author, instead. Otherwise, I can live my dream of hearing Howie say "Julie, open case 22." (You wonder if I'm serious...) To curb any questions in advance, consider this no different than when I write music. No, you probably cannot read it until I am done. Yes, I insist on being mysterious. No, I'm probably not going to change.

+I would like to memorize some poetry. I just don't know what poetry.

+I'm looking for a friend who will purchase the $2 fares from Spirit Airlines with me on a regular basis. Please submit your resume with a letter of interest.

+In the last few months, I have read these books: "Prince Caspian", "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", "Blue like Jazz", "Everything Belongs", "God Was In This Place and I, i Did Not Know", and "A Framework for Understanding Poverty". Read the two with the longest titles.

+I'm trying to organize some recording this fall. Wooty.

+My birthday celebration commenced on August 22, for those of you who are not aware that I begin celebrating 2 months in advance. You may also want to know that this year I will be turning 22 again.

That's all for now.

xoxo.

blue like yazz

I am about half way done with Blue like Jazz...and I just haven't been able to get into it.

And then today happened.

I think finally Don got my attention when he brought up the problem with the church's use of the war metaphor. War language is a pretty big deal to me, for those of you who may not know. I don't like it.

A few more things that really struck me...

"...by being true I am allowing people to get to know the real me, and it feels better to have people love the real me than the me I invented."

"When I was in love there was somebody in the world who was more important than me, and that, given all that happened at the fall of man, is a miracle, like something God forgot to curse."

Those, and the entire excerpt from "Polaroids" in the chapter called "Romance". And the whole chapter called "Alone".

I don't know why I didn't really enjoy the first half. But I tell you, the second half is brilliant.

*************

So, I wrote this post yesterday, and I have since finished the book. I swear it took me 2 hours total to read the whole thing. Anyway, I loved it. Still can't figure out why I wasn't really digging the first half. But I don't really care, because the second half was beautiful.

I went to Kava House tonight to finish reading it. I should not read in public. I must look a little foolish. I know I always say this, but I read the same way I listen to music...and that means that if something stands out to me, I will react to it- visually. I smile at music. I smile at books. I laugh at music. I laugh at books. I cry at music. I cry at books. This is all good and well except when you're in public and trying to appear dignified and solemn like a statue. Because to me, that's what people look like when they read.

i'm embarrassed

I'm embarrassed, I'm not gonna lie.

Earlier this summer I said I was going through my things, simplifying, throwing away, donating. I thought I did a good job.

I decided to go through my shoes tonight, while I was packing. I feel like I need to share this with you to keep myself accountable here. Here's a bit of what I found.


On the left: my tennis shoes from when I played on the tennis team. I was fourteen when I bought these. FOURTEEN. On the right: the only pair of boots that I have ever owned. I only have one recollection of wearing said boots, and it was in high school. Look closely, you will see the dust on them.


I'm not sure what to say about this. Except that the bottom two pairs are identical. And this is embarrassing, not only because they are denim but also because these are just the sandals that I don't wear. I am afraid to pile on the ones that I do wear.

I found a few gems that I'm afraid are going to stay.


Sick, I know. But you guys, I wore these sandals EVERY day while I lived in Puebla. I walked miles and miles and miles in these things. There's something really sweet about that, in my unhealthy, nostalgic mind.


About two months after I returned from Puebla, my three chicas, Sarah (a fellow gringa), Maricarmen, and Liliana wrote me letters on these sandals and mailed them to me. They didn't even package them. On the bottom of the left sandal is my address and postage. It was the most amazing thing I have ever received.

Oh, one last thing:

Don't Be Jaded

I compiled a new playlist.

I call it "Don't Be Jaded".

Here it is:

Finding Your Feet Again; Denison Witmer
Deliver Me; David Crowder Band
Coming Toward; David Crowder Band
Crimson; Nicole Nordeman
Hold On; Nicole Nordeman
The Heart of Life; John Mayer
Home; The Cinematics
Wheel; John Mayer
Trees (Hallway of Leaves); Sleeping at Last
Human; Jon McLaughlin
Stall Out; Mute Math
Hold On; Magnet
Good Love Is On the Way; John Mayer (Village Sessions)
Finding Your Feet Again; Denison Witmer

I decided to bookend the playlist with Finding Your Feet Again. It just felt right.

These songs remind me to not be jaded. And to keep my heart soft and alive.

happy birthday to my friend

Today is my best friend's birthday. I just sent her this card from someecards.com.


(Disclaimer: someecards.com is not family friendly...)

he's wise.

On Wednesday, Rob said that the challenge is keeping your heart soft and alive.

I need that more than ever.

He's wise.

this is great.

Meet Alex.

more...

See more genius here.

she's wise.

Last night my mom reminded me of Psalm 57:

"I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed."

Then she said to me, "Crawl under those wings and rest there tonight. Its a little crowded, but you can rest there."

nashville

Daley makes me look cool.

More later.