tim’s thought property

Many people try to draw theological parallels to common place things, it helps to better understand ones points. I am just the same, perhaps taking a shine to C.S. Lewis’ approach on the practice. And in similar fashion, I have a little analogy to draw, using the fabric of the very pants that I am wearing. I will explain this in two parts; first the Background, second the Analogy itself.

Now, as you can see above, these pants are quite worn. Not much more than a collection of rags clinging to the skeletal parts of a pair of pants too comfortable to let go. In fact, I’ve had these pants for five years. They were bought two inches too large and too long. I was still under that old idea that I’d grow into them, but I did not realize that I was at the end of my growing.
So, years came and went and the pants started to go with them. I had to get a couple knee patches first, since they were getting all stressed out, from all the factory work I was doing. A couple of box cutter swings, and the bare knees are showing. The crotch followed soon after, thus being the crucial “keep or kill” moment. At this point, I thought that I would continue to hang on to them, and keep employing the service of my mother to keep them from the garbage bin.
After another year, I decided to spruce them up, with some old patches and badges that I’d found. A couple of swimming badges, from when they rated progression in colours, a Campbell’s soup patch from an old hat, and a name tag from an antique store. The longer I had the pants, the more rips, tears and holes came. I took turns fixing them, with Mom doing the more difficult parts. When the back belt loop finally broke, I had to put them down, for an indefinite duration, until the repairs could come.
In the meantime, I’d lost some girth, and found that I had about four inches less than the waist. So, I begun to muse how to fix the belt loops and the width. It took the expertise of my Aunt Dorothy, who could repair the seams properly, and I ended up tackling the loops.

Now, the background is taken care of, the Analogy.
Bare with this, if theology is not an interesting topic for you. The Pants, bought new, once in my possession, are like my Soul. Disregarding that I purchased them, the Pants are a new and wonderful part of me (ie. wardrobe). As years go on, the Pants are worn down, stressed, faded, stretched, torn like anything. The Soul, as life goes on is affected the same. In every event, choice, mistake, triumph, experience there is something that marks the Soul, for good or for ill. As I ended up getting hole in the Pants, I went to get them repaired. There was replacement fabric put over the tears, to support them for the next trials that may come. Just the same, the Soul is in need of repair in times of trauma, anxiety, sadness, betrayal and all other damaging experiences. Once the Creator repairs His work, the pants are not quite the same. They never retain that colour, look or even former strength. Each time I had the Pants fixed, they took on a new look. Often still similar, only slightly altered. Sometimes the whole foundation was lifted. This will be an ongoing project of mine, for as long as I can keep this up. For GOD, his project on the condition of our Souls is never going to be completed in our lifetimes.
I believe each event that we go through defines our Souls, and shapes them for what they will eventually become. Spiritual growth is the growth of the Spirit, the Soul. It is like any other avenue, only we cannot see it directly, and we cannot easily gauge our progress. So even though my pants are visible and tangible to everyone, only I know the work put in, and the complete measure of their journey. The same is with GOD, he knows the starting and finished product.

Some people parallel growth to natural things like trees or seasons, and that’s all well and good. My example is personal (obviously) and it shed light to things in a different way. I hope that it has been an informative read for you.

It was Friday night at the King’s Head. No cover, graciously, and Aaron Epp and I walked into the dark neighbourhood pub in the Exchange District. We ascended the back stairs, to the second bar, and purchased our drinks. Sleeman’s Amber Ale in my hand, Alexander Kieth’s in his, we found a seat behind Amanda, Carolyn and Nick Mullin.

The band was just getting up to begin, each memeber to his corresponding instrument. Rene on the left, with his shiny red Epiphone; Aaron (Klassen) sitting strongly at the drums; Chris next to him, taking up the bass, and Rob was on the right, readying the mic for the fist set.
They hit the first song with power and skill, and the energy filled the entire first set. With the crowd slowly growing, amidst the billiard players, and causal patrons coming to see what the deal was. The guys played a cover-filled first set, with a few of their originals put in. A great version of Emmylou Harris’ All my Tears was played. They soared rather effortlessly through one song to the next, playing like a well-oiled machine.
At their set break, the guys returned to the crowd to mingle and chat. Taking up the instruments a second time, the band had more originals put in, like The World in You. They covered a great Gloria and Money City Maniacs, too. By the time the guys began their last set, all the originals came out. People’s Cry and Sixty-Eight among my favourites. There were some great moments of improvisation during a few of the songs. Rene’s Epiphone just screamed to be played, and it was. A few running bridges and creative outros were sprinkled about the night, played in true abandonment.
The Attics played with heart, and may just have played theirs out. It was a tight show, full of skillful musicians doing what they love to do. With the full moon peaking in the clouds outside the second floor windows, it made for a great backdrop. The night was rich. Friends and music, it couldn’t have been better.
Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t put in a plug for the CD release. September 15th at the West End Cultural Centre, with The Morning After and Matt Epp playing. Tickets are $15 at Ticketmaster, do your best to be there!

picture by Kjell Jonas Johansson

I visited my good friend Caleb a couple of weeks ago. He lives out in Winkler, just over an hour away from the city; well, it was longer than I remembered. I went out with Greg Jensen (from Snohomish, Washington. He was out here visiting), and planned on spending the afternoon with Caleb.

We met him at the Tim Hortons, and Caleb was there with his friend TJ, who had sprained his ankle skateboarding, the night before. So we sat and dined, chatted and all that, then went over to Caleb’s. After watching some of Caleb’s skate videos, and playing a game of Scrabble, TJ had to leave for the city. Caleb, being the helpful soul that he is, directed TJ out of town with the least amount of traffic lights. Since TJ sprained his left foot, driving stick was a bit of a challenge.

As TJ pulled out of the driveway, Caleb was searching for his wallet, coming to the realization that it was still in TJ’s car. Caleb jumped into his old Chevy Malibu, and started the engine. As it slowly turned over, I hopped in, too, and we sped off through the town to cut off TJ to get back Caleb’s wallet.

It was a fast ride through the heart of Winkler, with Caleb driving much faster than the posted limits, and I, with my old Canon camera, enjoying the thrill of the chase. Now, Winkler is a grid, and the main roads in town run south off the highway. TJ was taking Southview Dr. to the 32 highway to get to the 14, then back to Winnipeg. Caleb roared up Third, then Pembina, then up Main. We didn’t see TJ’s car, upon arriving at the 14, so we were driving to go south down the 32, to return home. At this point, at the light, TJ rolls up, and turns left, in front of us. Caleb and I are frantically waving and then we make a U-turn and follow TJ down the 14. We’re going as fast as we can, and Caleb tells me “Take out your wallet and point at it!” So I’m doing so, as we approach TJ, and I roll down the window and shout “CALEB’S WALLET! DO YOU HAVE CALEB’S WALLET?!”.

Now, of course, he doesn’t hear me, as we are both at speeds of 110km/h. He rolls down the window to shout back “WHAT?!” I point more furiously and repeat “DO YOU HAVE CALEB’S WALLET?!” At this point, TJ turns around in his seat, and starts to look in his car. He finds it, still maintaining his speed. We’ve pulled in front of him at this point, to let other cars pass. Caleb’s original intention was to pull over at a gas station, but we decided something all the better.

Caleb resumes his lane, and is right alongside TJ. He moves in closer to TJ’s car, and we prepare to make the hand off. TJ is driving with one hand out the window, with a death grip on Caleb’s wallet, and I have my arm out in eager anticipation of the high speed trade. The cars sync up and our hands meet upon the wallet, and our grips are exchanged. TJ, Caleb and I shout with joy and excitement as the transfer is complete, and we say our secondary goodbyes, still driving fast, down highway 14.

And that is how I felt a little like an action hero, if only for seven minutes.