Welcome, Christmas, while we stand heart to heart and hand in hand.

Author: Sarah Jo /

Happy, happy Christmas everyone!

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

Art of the Mix

Author: Sarah Jo /

"The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules." ~High Fidelity~

The art of the mix tape is indeed a delicate one. Although it's really evolved from mix-tapes to mix-CDs or mix iPod playlists, the principles are the same. A mix can say so many things in so many ways. Music speaks to me anyway, but there's something almost magical about listening to songs that have been hand picked for you. I've had mixes to cheer me up, mixes to drive by, mixes that sing me to sleep, and mixes that make me think. My best relationships have started with mixes. They've made me change my mind and they've gotten to my heart before normal words could. I love making mixes for my friends to share the music I love. It's a part of me I can try to describe, but why do it that way when you can pop in a cd and hear part of me in audio form? I have a feeling I'll keep making mixes for a very long time. I like to try to be articulate and I like to write, but 9 times out of 10 a mix says what I'm trying to say much more completely.

...the night starts here...

Author: Sarah Jo /

My uncle tragically died a couple of weeks ago. His death woke me up and pushed me face to face with what had been tossed into the corners of my mind. (I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons why death exists: to shake the living into motion again.) I’ve struggled with being lonely and finding a group of friends to truly connect with since graduation, but I had moved it out of the way to make a path for other thoughts so I wouldn’t dwell on being lonely. While I was up in Dalton for the funeral services, my thoughts about community crept up to the front of the line. I was seeing a community file through the door of the funeral home parlor little by little. People from my parents’ church came to support my mom. People from my sister and cousin’s high school came to support them. Countless people who had grown up with Uncle Thomas and who knew my mom and her other brothers and sisters came to share their grief. I was desperately trying not to make any part of those few days about me, because I knew there were bigger things going on. I could not help but notice, try as I might, that I only had one person come through that line to support me personally. It got me thinking about what kind of relationships I’ve been craving. I had just assumed that it was a romantic relationship, because that’s pretty much what it always is. As I was standing there watching generations of this community pass in front of me, I was starting to realize the difference. I was wondering why I was having such a hard time finding community in Macon. My church is wonderful and I have truly found some kindred spirits there, but none are my age or share all the same interests. I feel a sense of community at work, but I also feel like I’m pretty different from everyone there in several ways. I kept rolling these thoughts around in my mind for the next few days. This past Sunday I got to go to a concert in Atlanta and that fueled my thoughts on community further. Strangely enough, the environment of the concert itself got me really thinking about what community means. This show was a pretty big deal; 4 bands in one night, all in an arena in Atlanta. I hadn’t been to an arena show in a few years, and since then my taste in music has changed to favor smaller bands who frequent much smaller venues. At small shows, everyone is packed in close together and close to the stage. Everyone’s there because they love the band, and everyone’s concentrating on the music and the experience. At this arena concert, people were walking around and talking about stuff during the sets. I was really distracted by all the craziness around me and I noticed that I didn’t feel nearly as connected to the band or the experience as I normally do at a show. Then I decided that arena concerts don’t possess that feeling of community that a show at a bar or a small venue does. Later that night after the concert, I got to hang out with a friend and some friends of his. The whole time I was sitting in awe of the smothering feeling of comfortable community that I was experiencing. A couple of people were passing the guitar back and forth, playing different songs and just noodling around. A few of us would jump in with harmonies from time to time. One guy had bought a box of media equipment from a garage sale or something, and he was sorting through it and playing with it all. At one point we were all trying to remember who painted this certain abstract painting, and someone ended up looking it up on their iPhone. Then a few of us went upstairs and just sat there and listened to music. Simple as that. I left that house feeling like I had been ripped from my dream community. Those are the kind of people I want to get to know. That is the kind of community I have been craving since May. They are thinkers, philosophers, theologians, artists, comedians, and musicians. They challenged me just in that short amount of time we were hanging out. I’m disappointed that I haven’t found a community like that where I am. I guess community is an organism; it evolves and adapts throughout life. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a community where I can feel deeply connected and profoundly loved like my friend’s community.

This post was written to the tune of: In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars