March 02, 2004

4:41 p.m.

Ouija Believe This?

Play day this Thursday with Dar. We have these so seldom that we always plan more than we can actually do. This time we've whittled it down to "movie day."

Talking with him recently on the phone, somehow I recalled and related an incident that occurred when I was about 16 or 17, involving my friend Diana and a ouija board. We were playing with one, as teenagers will do, out of curiosity and innocent mischief, and trying to contact famous dead people for a little wisdom from beyond. I think Lincoln was among our targets, and maybe Shakespeare. Diana and I were both active in the drama club and in all the choirs our school offered.

St. Francis of Assisi was one of my favorite historical and religious characters at that time. I was on the cusp of a several-year phase of born-again-ness, owing to the influence of another friend I had whose family were very big in the speaking-in-tongues community. The intensity of this phase was later to mellow and give way to a love and embrace of other belief systems, but meanwhile, St. Francis was my guy. I loved the animal connection and the part of the story that said he gave up all his worldly goods and walked away singing.

Diana wasn't into it so much; in fact, I think she was one of the people I eventually alienated through excessive zeal. But at the moment we were friends, and committed to the present inquiry. So naturally I had to pose a question to my hero, Frank. I asked whether there was anything he wanted to say to us.

Immediately, and without any hesitation, the planchette began to rush around the board. Here is what it spelled out:

GREAT ARE THOSE WHO STAY FAITHFUL TO THE LORD. GO YE AND SING UNTO HIM.

And then it stopped.

Of course we had to quiz one another as to who might be "cheating," and in the end were both satisfied that neither of us had heard or seen this phrase before, nor had been pushing the plastic triangle jobber.

I'd forgotten about that for years until it came up this week. At that time I really had no idea what my career choice would be. I wanted to join the circus and be a clown. And it was years before I really became committed to music and songwriting.

But it doesn't seem coincidental that lately I've had a sort of epiphany, or a new understanding, of why I'm here. No matter what shit I go through or how painful it is, I seem to be able to frame experiences musically in a way that helps other people get through their similar passages, to find release and resolution. It's the first time in my life I've felt truly like a vessel. It's so clear now, that it's what I signed on for. It's like I have this understanding with the Present Infinite that this is what I do.