Untitled Story

 

It was all darkness.  Of the five senses that each of us experience to some extent or another, his lack of vision is what he noticed first.  Although he was totally unaware of anything about his present situation, the thought of not having sight gave him a fright.  His heart began to race and feeling the beating in his chest made him realize that he was lying on his back.

“I’m not blind,” he thought, “my eyes are closed.”

He sighed in great relief.  He then smiled which turned into a hearty chuckle.  He slowly opened his eyes and the laughter died quickly as he saw a sky that he never seen in his life.  It was filled with all sorts of colors, blues, reds, greens, yellows, and many others that melted and blended into each other.  His eyes moved all over head as he surveyed every inch of sky he could view. 

“Am I dead?” he thought.  “Is this heaven?”

It was funny that the thought of heaven crossed his mind as he rarely gave it much thought before. 

The thought that this must be a dream caused him to pinch himself.  It hurt.  That didn’t prove anything as he recalled he’s had many dreams where he experienced physical pain.  He slowly sat up and his view shifted to his immediate surroundings, and what a sight he saw.  He looked around.  As far as his eye could see, in every direction, he saw roses.  As far as he could tell, every single one of them was purple, and not one showed any sign of fading. 

He glanced to his right and looked at the rose closest to him.  He guessed it stood three feet off the ground.  It was actually twenty-nine inches tall.  In fact, they all stood the same height.  He looked at the stem and noticed there were no thorns.  He turned to the rose on his left and saw it, too, had no thorns.  He lifted up his arm and ran his fingers down the stem of the rose.  It felt like velvet.  It was when his fingers came to the bottom that he realized the ground was sand.  It was red, almost blood red. 

The color surprised him so much that he immediately thought he was wounded and was bleeding out.  He patted himself, up and down his body.  Nothing seemed to hurt.  He checked his fingers to make sure they weren’t wet.  He stared at them for a few moments.  Considering everything he had seen since he opened his eyes, looking at his fingers brought him a sense of comfort.  It was the only thing that made sense.

“This has got to be a dream,” he said aloud.

The sound of his own voice startled him.  He suddenly became aware of two things.  First, he realized that, up until that moment, everything had been totally silent, deathly silent, a silence created in a vacuum.  The second thing he noticed was that he heard music.  It seemed as if the sound of his voice triggered the music, or perhaps the music had been playing and he had been unable to hear up until that point. 

He looked around to see where the music was coming from.  It seemed to come from every direction.  There was no way possible he should be hearing music, but he was hearing it.  The sound of the music caused chills to run up his spine, not because of the melody, but because of its sound.  He listened, and he could hear every instrument he’s ever heard, all blended into one sound.  He noticed that if he focused on listening to one instrument, it appeared to get louder:  tuba, piccolo, bagpipes, cello, theremin, glockenspiel, acoustic guitar. When he stopped concentrating on one sound, they all blended back together.

It was beginning to freak him out.  He wanted to get somewhere, anywhere to get away from the music.  He stood up, staring at the sky as he did.  After a few moments, his gaze dropped to view the landscape, and that’s when he saw them.  He saw people scattered among the field of roses.  They were all lying flat on the ground, as he once was, completely motionless. 

He looked at the person nearest to him and took a step to take a closer inspection.  Forgetting the sand, he was surprised how his foot sunk into the soil.  He took another step, adjusting for the instability of the ground.  He walked over to the body, for though it had once been a person, that was clearly no longer the case.  Decomposition had set in, and lifeless eyes stared, almost accusingly, at him.  He instinctively took a step back.  He looked away, and he saw the person next to the body.  This person, too, was dead.  He looked all around him.

“Are all these people dead?” he wondered.

He started walking slowly, careful to not step on or trip over any bodies.  Every body he saw was clearly dead.  His heart started to race again, only this time he knew it wasn’t going to be calmed by merely opening his eyes.  His pace quickened, but he paused for a moment when he came to one of the bodies.  He was stupefied by the dichotomy of what he was witnessing.  From where he stood, one of the roses covered his view of seeing the face.  He tilted his head slightly to the left, and he could see the face of the dead man.  Tilting his head back to the right, and the face was again covered by the rose.  He tilted his head slowly back and forth; rose, face, rose, face, the beauty and life of the rose, the ugliness of death.

He lifted his eyes and looked at the field.  A string of thoughts ran through his mind as he began turning and seeing the same view in all directions.

“What happened here?  Why is everybody dead, and why am I the only one alive?” he thought.

“I got to get out of this field,” he said aloud.

He looked up to the sky and noticed, for the first time, that he did not see a sun.  There was plenty of light, almost too much, and his eyes frantically searched the sky for the source of light. 

His head dropped, his shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh.

“Weird colored sky, weird music, weird field, death all around me, sure, why not no sun in the sky?” he muttered.

Though he had no idea where he wanted to go, he had looked up to the sky to find the sun to get a sense of direction.  Now he realized he didn’t even know north from south, east from west.  He had never felt so lost.

A tear rolled down his cheek as a wave of loneliness swept over him.  Worse yet, he felt extremely vulnerable, as if whatever caused the death of all the people around him now had him in its sights.  He instinctively felt the need to crouch down and hide amongst the flowers.  He smiled at that thought.  The chances of there being a sniper anywhere close were highly unlikely, and he hadn’t noticed any bullet wounds in any of the bodies.

He had to get out of this field.  With nothing to go by and nothing on the horizon that offered any hope that there was an end to the field, he picked a direction and started walking.  He trudged through the sand, sidestepping bodies, while trying to keep from losing his composure.  It wasn’t easy, and, considering the circumstances, he couldn’t be blamed if he lost all his composure.  Each step he took, he took a deep breath hoping to keep his heart beating at a semi acceptable level.  Though anxious to find a way to get out of this field, his pace was slow.

He had walked a few hundred yards when he began noticing something.  It was faint at first, but as he took more steps, it was becoming quite clear.  The music that was wafting through the air was beginning to change.  All the instruments, but one, were fading in volume.  No, that’s not quite right.  The other instruments weren’t fading, the one instrument was getting louder.  He couldn’t identify the instrument, but whatever it was, it did not produce a pleasant sound.  He noticed that each step he took, the sound would get louder.  He stopped.  He took a step back.  Then another, and the sound of that instrument got fainter. 

He took a few steps forward.  The instrument got louder.  A few steps back, and the instrument softened.  He turned and looked at the distance he had traveled.  There was no need to go back and return to where he started.  He turned back and started walking.  That instrument was growing louder, to the point of annoyance.  No, it was more than annoying.  It was becoming quite painful.  Imagine fingernails being scratched down a chalkboard.  Now imagine that sound getting louder every moment as the nails would dig into the surface.  He couldn’t stand it anymore.   He turned and started running back.  He finally got to a point where that instrument mercifully faded into the other instruments. 

He hadn’t reached the point where he first started, he was still quite a distance from it, but he didn’t know where to go now.  He looked to his left and decided to start walking.   The same phenomenon occurred. One of the instruments grew louder, this time it sounded like a snare drum.  It had a nice steady beat at first, but as he kept walking, not only did it get louder, the beat became very erratic.  It was too much to bear, and he turned back and walked until the noise became bearable. 

“Gotta find a decent sounding instrument,” he said aloud.

He began veering to the right and the sound of a violin grew louder.  It was not unpleasant at all.  It was as if it were being played by a virtuoso, not a beginner whose playing causes the cat to race out of the room, screeching.  As he continued walking, two things became quite clear.  He noticed that the sound of the violin got louder, but it reached a certain level and did not go louder.  In fact, it didn’t even reach a level that was at all annoying, let alone painful.  He also realized that the shape of the music changed.  The melodic form changed.  There was a certain beauty to it.  If it were not for the bizarre environment in which he found himself, he would have been enjoying the music he was now hearing.

Soulmates: Do They Exist?

Recently I came across this post, and I was intrigued because the concept of soulmates had been going through my mind for a bit. 

Carol and I were married for many years, and although there was great love there, we didn’t have the notion that we were each other’s soulmates, perhaps because there wasn’t an immediate spark.  She used to like to point out the fact that, before we met, she used to come to many of our concerts, and I would never see her, even at times when I’d walk right past her.  Her favorite instance was a party at our band’s singer’s house.   It wasn’t a big house, and there weren’t more than 30 people there, but even then, I never saw her there.

I do know the first evening we talked I thought about how much I enjoyed talking to her.  Did I walk away thinking I found my soulmate?  No, and I’m sure she didn’t either.  (Don’t get me wrong.  We did really love each other, and we were both sad when we realized it was time to part ways.)  I don’t know, but back then I didn’t really subscribe to the idea of a soulmate.  For years I didn’t, but I’ve been feeling something lately that has me wondering.

Having this feeling, I reached out to a number of people, both single and married, to hear their thoughts on whether soulmates exist or not.  It should come as no surprise that most single people have an idea that their soulmate is out there and hope to one day connect. 

As for the married folk, a majority say that they did not view their spouse as a soulmate when they first met, but as the years have passed in their marriage, they have come to realize they’re with the one they should be.  It feels to me as if they don’t want to admit that their spouse is not their soulmate.  That’s fine, because a lot of people don’t believe in soulmates, and also, because when you love someone and they love you back, it doesn’t matter about anyone else.

There were exemptions.  There were a few couples that said that they knew they were meant to be together the moment they connected. 

In talking with one individual, I was asked my thoughts on soulmates.  I told him that lately I’ve been feeling that there’s someone out there, and it’s a feeling that runs deep, beyond logic. 

I said, “I don’t want to overly romanticize this, but I feel like someone is out there, that she and I have been together since before time began, before the world was made.  Throughout the ages, we’ve been together, and have had times apart.  She’s been my crutch, and I’ve been her stretcher.  I’ve leaned on her when I’m weak, and when she’s been weak, I’d carry her, and it feels like that, at this moment in time, we’ve both been too weak to get to each other.”

After he commended me on a job well done in not overly romanticizing it, he asked if I’d know it the moment I met her.  I answered that I honestly didn’t know if I would. 

“If she’s your soulmate, wouldn’t you know it almost immediately?” he asked.

It’s a valid question, but it’s one posed to a nebulous subject.  I’m guessing that, based on the definition of soulmate, the answer to the question would be yes, but the very existence of soulmates is still in question.  Just because you feel a connection with someone doesn’t necessarily make them your soulmate. 

He then asked “Have you ever felt that kind of connection?” 

I answered him by saying that I did once, and it surprised me immensely.   It felt like I had met a kindred spirit, that she would understand me just as well as I’d understand her.  It felt like that, not only were we on the same page but, we were on the same paragraph, the same sentence.  For a few moments there, I thought, “Oh my God, have I actually connected with my soulmate?”

He asked me what happened, and I said that she told me that us being together wasn’t much of a win for her.  It was then that I realized I had erred ever so slightly in thinking I had possibly found my soulmate.

He had a good laugh at that one, and I laughed as well. 
I said, “I loved the honesty.  It was like she knew me well enough to not play games and instead got right to the point.”

I told him that’s why I don’t know if I’d recognize my soulmate immediately if we ever met.  There could be that kind of connection, but if it’s felt by only one of the two, then obviously they would not be soulmates. 
Or could they be?  

Perhaps most of these married couples have realized over time that the person they’ve spent their life with is their soulmate.  They may have not recognized it immediately, but as their love for each other grew, they knew there was no else in the world for them.  They’ve realized that no matter the struggles, the arguments, the disagreements, the differences, the obstacles and setbacks, there is no one else they’d rather have by their side but their spouse.  Perhaps that’s the closest thing to a clear definition of a soulmate.

As this next stage of life unfolds, at times I wonder if it’ll be with someone by my side.  I get the sense that if I do find someone, she and I will work on a number of things together.  Whether it be me helping her with her vision, or her helping me with my vision, or perhaps there’s so much synergy it would be a shared vision, I can see us building things, creating things, writing, whether it be musically, scripts or books.  

I don’t know if I’ll ever find her.  To be honest, I’ve hardly even looked.  I’ve felt that if my soulmate is out there, they’ll be little effort to find each other.  The mentality is that God will bring us together and we’d need to have the wisdom to recognize it when it happens.  In light of past relationships, it might be difficult to reconcile that concept, but you learn from your failures and fallings. 

Do I believe in the idea of soulmates?  

Well, if you based it on my thoughts that I don’t really have to look and that we’ll somehow find each other, you’d probably come to the conclusion that I do. 

Love and Relationships

A few days ago, a group of us had a discussion; the topic was love.  It started from a brief conversation that was had with someone at church, and the comment was made, “I love you, brother.”  That comment just felt too Christian-ese to the listener, too much of a church cliché, like when someone says they’ll pray for you as they slap you on the back and walk away. 

The thought that went through the listener’s head was, “How can you love me?  You don’t even know me,” and that started the discussion on whether there can be love when there’s no relationship.  The viewpoint was that if you loved someone, you were going to be in there life, that there would be relationship, and that absent that, there couldn’t be love.

One segment of the group didn’t totally agree with that position.  This segment, and it was me, said that it was possible to have love for someone without having relationship.  I asked if it was necessary to push your way into someone’s life and intrude in their space to prove that you love them.  I do my best to respect people’s time and space, and I’m a firm believer that if someone’s not interested in giving you their time, then they’re not really interested in you being in their space.    Making yourself available to whatever someone needs, whenever they need it, certainly there’s love there, wouldn’t you agree?  There are a number of people for whom I have love, who I have little contact with, but they still know, I believe, that if they ever needed anything, I’d be there in a heartbeat. 

After all, loving someone is wanting the best for them, and doing whatever is needed to attain that, even if that is merely being there only when you’re needed. 
Is that a cop-out? 
Is the act of establishing a close relationship with someone necessary for love to be involved? 

A segment of the group felt strongly that if you were going to show true love, then you were going to make huge efforts to be in their life, to know exactly what to provide when they’re in need.  There’s truth to that argument, and I won’t deny that, however, I couldn’t agree with the position that without relationship, there could be no real love.

The parable of the Good Samaritan had been brought up earlier in the conversation, and I circled back to it to prove my point.  Essentially, the parable was used to answer the question of who is our neighbor.  Yet, it was the follow up to the command to love your neighbor as yourself.  It’s clearly established that the Samaritan had no relationship with the injured man.  In fact, there was a history of animosity between the two entities.  However, the Samaritan was there in the man’s time of need. This parable was used to illustrate what it’s like to love your neighbor.  The Samaritan didn’t even know the man and yet gave of himself, and helped him overcome his ordeal.  The Samaritan gave of himself, his time, his resources to a man he did not even know.

Obviously, the parable was not intended to be used as a road map to how to avoid relationships and yet still give love.  It was used to highlight the point that you can love others, by giving of yourself, even to those you don’t even know.  It also hammers home the point that real love is the giving of yourself, your time, your resources without any expectation of reciprocity. 

Ultimately, the topic of the conversation became: 
Are Christians showing enough love to others? 
Have Christians, as a whole, failed in loving others? 
Are Christians merely giving platitudes when they say they’re going to keep someone in prayer?

There is a truth that relationships and love go hand in hand. 
Perhaps that’s what it is:  the deeper the relationship, the stronger love that can be shown. 

Yet, that shouldn’t be used to limit ourselves to the thought that there could be no love without relationship.  The Good Samaritan proved that some of the greatest acts of love can be shown to those that are not known to us.

Perhaps that’s the lesson for Christians during this time; at a time when people are afraid, at a time when people are in need for basic items, at a time when hope is fading. 

Have Christians, as a whole, in recent times, failed in showing love to others?  Perhaps.
Perhaps all that can change in this moment of history.

The Duplicitous Man

INTRO

If you personally know me, then you know this is quite unlike me to do such a thing.  I’m the one who tends to be rather private and will not divulge too much information about myself.  Whenever I’m talking with someone, I’m doing most of the listening.  I enjoy hearing people talking about their lives, their passions, their purpose, and I’ve found that most people appreciate that about me.  I will admit, however, if I’m talking about my vision or purpose, I will talk up a storm.  Although it may give a sense of who I am, it doesn’t give a great deal of insight into me as a person.  I guess the best analogy I can give is to say that if you asked me what car I drove, and I responded with the destination.  You know where I’m going, and by the destination you might have an idea as to what I’m driving, but it doesn’t give a clear description of the vehicle. 

So why am I doing this? 

Many years ago I was experiencing a time in which things were the most “perfect.”  I’m using perfect in quotations to denote that, although life has its problems and its issues, things were going very well.  I was married, had a nice home and was in the process of building something that, frankly was beyond my capabilities, but was the next step in what I had originally intended to build.  During this time, I was meeting new people, almost on a daily basis, and as I would get to know them, they would begin sharing their testimony with me.  I was hearing amazing stories of their battles, things they would have to overcome, struggles they faced and pain they had to endure, and how ultimately through God’s strength, they were able to persevere.  It was inspiring to hear of their strength, and yes, I know God’s strength pulled them through, but it takes a special character, a special fortitude to be able to withstand some of the things they had to go through.  I have to be honest and, as you might soon discover, the things through which I’ve gone are in no way near the level of trauma that a lot of people had to overcome.  I cannot stress that enough.  The “trauma” I have dealt with is minuscule in comparison to what hundreds of thousands and millions of people have had to endure during their lifetimes.   In doing this, I am pretty much publicly announcing how weak an individual I can be.  

But in listening to all these testimonies, I began making a comment, one that is most unwise.  I remember when I was younger, I heard a preacher make a comment about patience.  You may have heard it.  It pretty much stated that you should be most careful if you pray for patience.  In essence, if you’re stupid/brave enough to ask God for patience, He’s not going to just magically give it to you. You’re going to be going through some serious stuff to learn patience.

I can still hear his words, “So just make sure you’re really ready to go through some trials if you’re going to pray that prayer.” 

I have remembered that statement my whole life, and I would be like, “God, I’m good.  I’m trying to be as patient as I can.” 
And as smart as I was to avoid ever praying that, I took stupid to a whole other level by complaining that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s not that I didn’t have a testimony.  It’s just that in comparison to what I was hearing, there just wasn’t much there.  So, yes, I stupidly verbally said that I didn’t have a testimony…….a number of times.

But here’s the little nugget that takes that stupidity into places so high few humans have even imagined.  I DON’T LIKE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF!  So who cares if I don’t have a testimony?   I’d rather not say it anyway.  What on earth was I thinking?  Obviously very little thinking was involved, you may say to yourself, and you would probably be right.  So why am I doing this? 

I few years ago I was reading a book that is inspirational.  Don’t ask me the name of it.  I don’t remember, and I don’t really remember much about what it said.  There’s a reason for that.  I’m not saying it was a bad book, but I found myself in an interesting line of thinking as I read it.  When I was reading it, I was in the middle of my biggest failure and so I was enjoying reading about the author’s mentality as he had overcome his failure.  And yes, there’s a certain comfort knowing that people have gone through what you’re going through, but something else struck me.  As I was reading it, I came to the realization (certainly not a brilliant stroke of genius observation) that, although the author had experienced what I was going through, he is no longer in that stage as I was reading it.  I had lost that sense of comfort.  Yes, he may have gone through it, but he’s enjoying his success right now, or else he’d never have a book.  Knowing that, I lost the connection, so I pretty much lost interest.

It got me to thinking that perhaps I should start a blog entitled, “In the Midst of Failure,” and detail my struggles, so that it could touch people who were, at that very moment, experiencing the same types of troubles.  So I started writing, but I just couldn’t bring myself to post it.  (Did I tell you I didn’t like talking about myself?) 

But a few things changed my mind.  The first was a meme, that I came across, that said, “Tell the story of the mountain you climbed.  Your words become a page in someone else’s survival guide.”  It really isn’t much more than an ad for an inspirational book, but there was something about the meme that just hit me.  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe it was just timing, or perhaps I was just in a different state of mind.  What began to put this in motion was when Facebook initiated their “Stories” feature, and I began to contemplate putting a streamlined version of “In the Midst of Failure” in that section.  I liked the concept because I would do it in a more artistic way, instead of just merely writing it.  I would do it in almost a comic book method, in that I would daily post some sort of artistic picture with a caption describing my life.  The other reason why I liked it is because the “Stories” are not permanent.  They post for twenty-four hours and then they disappear.  And for someone who is not at all used to sharing about himself, there was a sense comfort to that.  Yes, I’ve shared it and now it’s gone.  So I began to do that.  I have no idea if they were seen by anyone, and I take a bit of comfort in telling myself that nobody saw them.

As I did so, each day I posted, I listed each picture as a page, and I realized that each page could be a chapter as each caption was brief and can certainly be expounded upon.  But posting little pictures on Facebook was one thing.  Really going into detail about my life was an entirely different matter.  I was really uncomfortable about the thought of taking that step, and yet I was brought to the origin of how I got here in the first place.  I complained that I didn’t have a testimony, and now that God has provided me with one, it would make no sense to refrain from telling it.

You may ask, “How is this different from the inspirational book that you read?” 
You may be asking, “I’m in the midst of failure and you’re enjoying your success, so where do I find my comfort?”

It’s very simple.  This is not necessarily an inspirational book.  This highlights the journey of a very flawed man.  If I’m going to open myself up, then I’m going to have to go all the way.  You could take from this book what you’d like.  Perhaps you have some of the same tendencies, attitudes, feelings or characteristics, and this might serve as a warning.  Or perhaps it does inspire you to rise above who you are and become as God created you.  Whatever the case may be, you take from this whatever you can.  Like a painting, it’ll be open to interpretation.  In any event, I’m going to introduce you to the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything. 

In writing this, I’m going to write in the third person.  In fact, I just might label myself as the Narrator and comment on the character’s actions, feelings and moods.  In creating that distance, it gives me a false sense of security.  As false as the security may be, it enables me to reach into the deep of what is good and bad, light and darkness, genius and insanity.  That sentence right there may tell you about my lack of logical reasoning in this matter.  I am relying on a security that I know is false, and yet it’s real enough for me to take a jump.  They say the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result.  However, taking a leap, trusting in a net you know is not secure at all may be a better definition of insanity.

In any event, let us move forward.  Without further ado, I present the duplicitous man.

CHAPTER 1:  ISOLATED AND ALONE
In the midst of despair, isolated and alone, at 19, he tried to figure out his reason for living.

Narrator:  Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, young and old; come one, come all, big and small, short and tall, let me regale you by showing you the inner trappings of a man whose duplicitous nature feels like he deserves more while feeling unworthy to receive anything.  He’s a living contradiction, incongruous with himself.  He is the duplicitous man.

He stood in the living room of a house that was empty.  It had been his home for a few years, but he missed the home where he spent most of his childhood.  The comfort of home was no longer there.  It was a dwelling place, a very nice one at that, but his heart was not there.  The truth is his heart had been shattered to a point where he didn’t have a clue where the pieces were, and so he disconnected.

His younger brother would often call him a robot because there appeared to be no feelings emanating from him.  Though they weren’t visible, they were certainly there.  He was broken, so much so that he couldn’t deal with his emotions.  They had to be buried.  He could feel them eating at him, yet he wouldn’t be totally consumed by them. 

“This is not that bad,” he said aloud, his voice shattering the silence. 

NARRATOR:  If he were honest with himself he would agree that what he was going through was not that big a deal.  He had never known hunger.  He had never known thirst.  He had never been homeless.  He did not know abuse, nor did he experience anything less than growing up under the support of two loving parents. 

Much had changed in the last few years.  He thought of what it was like just a few years back, a childhood that was in no ways perfect, but one in which he had very few complaints.  If you’ve ever seen the show “The Wonder Years” or the movie “The Sandlot,” then you might have a glimpse into his childhood.  The fact is, growing up, he had three sets of friends.  Being young, he never fully appreciated it.  There’s that old line that says that you never fully appreciate something until you lose it.  He was certainly learning that lesson now.

His parents had become Christians when he four years old, and so going to church on a consistent basis became a way of life.  They got heavily involved, and so Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings were spent at church.  It wasn’t a big church, three hundred people at its largest, but there were plenty of kids there that were his age. 

Just a Theory: A short journey to Lookin In (PART II)

Brief recap:
A number of years ago, a band was created by accident.  When I say accident, I just mean that there was never any intention to form a band.  A group of guys got together to perform at a show and then things happened where we found ourselves in a band.  It's a bit of a long story, and in one of our videos, I explain the whole thing.  One of these days I'll post that video, but on to where we are now.

So we recently got back together to see if we could shake off enough rust to hit the studio and record one of our tunes.
I'll just say this.  Practice went incredible, and it wouldn't surprise me one bit if all we needed were a few practices to be performance ready.

When we got into the studio, a few of us decided to jump on the drums.  I tend to do that any time I see drums.  At one time in my life I got to be a pretty decent drummer, but that was a long time ago.  In fact, there's a dirty little secret in Just a Theory, that can't be shared, because it would probably result in the beating of one member by another.

In any event, here's a short clip of Just A Theory's other "drummers."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jMpSHpO4M8

Just a Theory: A short journey to Lookin In (PART 1)

Weeks ago, the guys from JUST A THEORY got together.  It's been years since we've been together, so this day was to see if we knew one of our tunes well enough to hit the studio.  There's one aspect of one of the band members that was a constant during our playing days and still remains.  This video touches on it a bit as we have some fun with it.

https://youtu.be/kAOM4yEwdgg

Years ago, my friends and I formed a band and called it JUST A THEORY   
We played for years and had a blast, but it's been a while since we played.
In a little while we'll be going into the studio to record one of our songs.
We're filming it and be sharing our short journey (because we have no idea how
it's going to turn out)
If you're curious on what's going to happen, join the club.
It'll be a short ride, but it ought to be interesting.