I Feel a Breakdown Coming

I feel myself descending
The way I often do
I get the feeling that there’s no ending
When I can’t afford to lose

So, let me pass them by
Don’t try to state your case
I’ve had my fill of trials
And I will be on my way

Just don’t leave town
When you’re down, down, down
Just don’t give up
On the place you’ve grown to love

‘Cause when you turn your back
Bad feelings attack

Come on, now, we know my hands been played out
With city lights tonight, these stars just fade out
I need to stretch my legs, I need to start running
I feel it close, I feel a breakdown coming

Just don’t leave town
When you’re down, down, down
Just don’t give up
On the place you’ve grown to love

‘Cause when you start to pack
Bad feelings attack

~ Dolorean, “Just Don’t Leave Town,” You Can’t Win (Yep Roc, 2007).

Know Thyself

We’re experiencing some major upheaval at our school. Much harm has been done in the name of the future; many good people are being hurt because of the need to move foward with our vision. I think that we all can understand that organizational health might require shaking things up now and then, but it always ought to be done with honesty, integrity, and compassion. Of course, none of these three things have been present here in the past months.

I wrote a long letter over the weekend that I submitted to our board and administration. In it I called forth our leadership to be truthful and just… we await their response. I am dubious.

I wrote the letter not only because my friends were losing their jobs or being overlooked and devalued by our new administration, but because the truth has been treated as a commodity that can be used to serve any end so desired. I wrote the letter because I felt I could not look my students in the eye and continue to teach them about the radicality of the Gospel and the God who makes himself known in truth, justice, and vulnerability. Finally, I wrote this letter because if I hadn’t, I believe I would have lost myself.

On my way to work yesterday — whereupon I planned to deliver this letter — I listened to “Racing Like a Pro” by the National. It struck me with deep force and reminded me of who I am, who I was, and who I want to be. Here are the lyrics:

You’re pink you’re young you’re middle-class
they say it doesn’t matter
fifteen blue shirts and womanly hands
you’re shooting up the ladder

Your mind is racing like a pro, now
oh my god it doesn’t mean a lot to you
one time you were a glowing young ruffian
oh my god it was a million years ago

Sometimes you get up and bake a cake or something
sometimes you stay in bed
sometimes you go la di da di da di da da
til your eyes roll back into your head

Your mind is racing like a pro, now
oh my god it doesn’t mean a lot to you
one time you were a glowing young ruffian
oh my god it was a million years ago

you’re dumbstruck baby
you’re dumbstruck baby now you know
you’re dumbstruck baby
you’re dumbstruck baby now you know

Sometimes we slowly drift away from ourselves. Sometimes we are jolted back.

Grace is a funny thing.