Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: I'm Coming With You

“It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam,” said Frodo, “and I could not have borne that.”
“Not as certain as being left behind,” said Sam.
“But I am going to Mordor.”
“I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are. And I’m coming with you.”
Everyone needs a friend like Sam: someone who sees the danger, who sees that you’re choosing a difficult path, and who sticks with you anyway. I’m blessed to have a few people in my life who are Sam to me. I can’t imagine what a dark place this world would be without them.
~Lisa Shafter 


Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: The Way That Seems Easier

“You are kind,” answered Frodo. “But I do not think that any speech will help me. For I know what I should do, but I am afraid of doing it, Boromir: afraid. … I think I already know what counsel you would give,” said Frodo, “and it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart.”
“Warning? Warning against what?” said Boromir sharply.
“Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against refusal of the burden that is laid on me. Against— well, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men.”
When I decided that I wasn’t going to go to college, many different people in my life were upset, with emotions ranging from disappointment to horror. The common consensus seemed to be, “Why are you throwing your life away?!” I tried to explain to some of them, but most were left thoroughly befuddled. Although Frodo’s situation here is completely different, I always think about that part of my life when I read this passage.
Especially a few years ago, the smartest course of action, as far as almost everyone was concerned, was to go to college. Period. However, I’ve known since I was 14 that I want to be a writer, and I’ve known since I was 18 that I wanted to be a traveler. In today’s world of destroyed status quo, the best way to be a writer is to write, not attend college. And I certainly couldn’t travel the way I do if I was attending a university. For me, college would be stalling; it would be the path of least resistance; it would be wrong. Thus, I took a tutoring internship and I never looked back. Years later, with a steady job that allows me to travel the world, I’m so glad I didn’t take the predictable path.
On a separate note, this passage once again highlights Tolkien’s observations about misplaced dependence. Trust in our own strength is not enough— trust in the easiest or the most socially-acceptable or the most obvious decisions are not sufficient. Sometimes, the smartest decision is not the wisest decision. Frodo’s determination to set off for Mordor alone is a fool’s errand. However, as the book later shows, it’s the only way that the mission can be completed. Sometimes, the foolhardy path is the best one to take.
~Lisa Shafter


Monday, August 29, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: The Danger of Light and Joy

“Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord.”
This is Gimli’s response to his parting with Galadriel and all of Lothlorien. This struck me the last time I read The Fellowship of the Ring, and it strikes me anew after a year’s time as I connect with Gimli’s emotions. Many people react strongly to bad things that happen, but I’ve met only a few who react with the same kind of passion to things that are beautiful.
When I was a kid, we visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina every year, and the Atlantic Ocean was so immense and ancient, I could hardly stand it. I ached for the first taste of salty air, the first sight of trees twisted by sea breeze, and the first glimpse of the oceanic horizon, a rim of molten-metal blue. When we had to leave to head back to the Midwest, I perched in the backseat of the minivan and stared out the window, straining for a final picture of the ocean. My heart always felt lovesick for days. 
As I’ve gotten older, the painful wonder has been hidden a bit in the jadedness of age. That’s not to say it isn’t there, however. Far from it. But I think adults bury their sense of awe as a coping mechanism. If our eyes were opened to the true beauty of things— wind tossing the silver maple’s leaves, the delicate motions of a housefly grooming its eyes, the paint-fleck patterns in a person’s iris— we might spend all our days weeping for joy. On the flip side, if we experienced the truest pain of something wrong in the world— a butterfly’s broken wing, a tree withered from the roots, the wrinkles and decaying bones of age— we might spend all our days weeping in sorrow. It’s impossible to deaden your heart to sorrow and still keep it alive for joy. The only solution is to be brave. Brave when faced with decay and horror. Brave when faced with unbearable beauty. Light and joy are more dangerous than we think, but it’s a danger that is well worth the pain it takes to endure them.
~Lisa Shafter


Saturday, August 27, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Old Wives

“Then I need say no more,” said Celeborn. “But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.”
Whenever I read an ancient folktale, or legends about the origins of the earth and the early conflict between our world and the world of Faerie, I feel that I’ve caught a glimpse of something important, a part of history that has almost passed out of existence. This quote expresses my thoughts on the matter in an eloquent way, so I’ll leave the words to speak for themselves.
~Lisa Shafter


Friday, August 26, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Out of My Own Land

August 26th, 2011 (Written today, not reposted)
“I have never been out of my own land before. And if I had known what the world outside was like, I don’t think I should have had the heart to leave it.”
I grew up very much like a hobbit, in a comfortable family with comfortable surroundings and comfortable morals bordering my life like rows of buttercups. My parents always likened my siblings’ and my childhood to a greenhouse for saplings— we had to grow as strong as we could in a safe environment before braving the winds of the outside world. Skeptics could argue it made me naïve, but I think that instead it made me strong, because, just like a hobbit, my roots run deep. 
What strikes me most about this quote, beyond Meriadoc’s poetic way of saying, “The world is a big scary place,” is the idea that we never know what courage lies within until we are tested. If Merry had known the dangers that awaited him outside the Shire, he might not have gotten past the Old Forest. Yet every time things get dark, courage is waiting to carry him through, rooted in his love of his friends and the stalwartness of his people.
Lately I’ve been worrying about the future, tracing out decisions to absurd lengths: “What if this happens, and then this, and then this, and I’m stuck with this for the rest of my life? What about that variable and that possibility and that danger?” This quote is an observation that if we really knew what was up ahead, we’d never be able to move forward with life. It’s another reminder to acknowledge the future, but to live in the present.
~Lisa Shafter 


Thursday, August 25, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Not Etten Yet

Reposted from 8/30/2010 (last one)
“My heart’s right down in my toes, Mr. Pippin,” said Sam. “But we aren’t etten yet…”
This is a good dose of plain old hobbit-sense, something that we should keep in our hearts always. The quote embodies something I love about Sam: he sees the danger, he’s scared out of his wits, but in the midst of it all he can still point out, with undying hobbit cheerfulness, that they’re still alive and kicking. May we all have the same attitude in our lives.
~Lisa Shafter


Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: When the Road Darkens

Update, 2021: This post for some reason shows up in a lot of search engines, so it's one of my most-viewed posts despite being an off-the-top-of-my-head thing I wrote when I had barely turned 21. If you want to view other posts in this series, you can check out this tag: https://thetravelingmandolin.blogspot.com/search/label/tolkien
Just remember that I was in my young twenties when I wrote all of these! I haven't read them in years and can't speak to their quality. I was a kid, and I was still learning. :)

Reposted from 8/28/2010
“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,” said Gimli.
“Maybe,” said Elrond, “but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.”
In this passage, Elrond cautions the stouthearted dwarf against judging another person’s weakness. Gimli can’t imagine that anything would cause his courage to fail, but later on in the journey, he faces trials of a kind he could never imagine. He chooses to hold to his vow and push through anyway, but he learns that the Road is full of peril that weakened his resolve in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. 
A theme that constantly arises in Tolkien’s work is the frailty of the heart, no matter how steadfast. It is easy to make vows; it is nearly impossible to keep all of them. Does he imply that we should never pledge to do anything difficult? At first it may seem so, but in context it becomes clear that Elrond’s words caution against a specific kind of promise. 
From, “I’ll never be as bad as he is” to “I will never hurt you,” vows that depend on our own fortitude and moral fiber are, by their very nature, doomed to fail. We cannot keep our promises unless we rely on Someone greater to strengthen our hearts and keep us true to our word. We cannot vow to tread the hard path if we haven’t seen the nightfall— however, we do not have to walk in darkness. The great Light is always by our sides, able and willing to show us the path. We only need to open our eyes and see.
~Lisa Shafter


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Despair or Folly

Reposted from 8/26/2010
“Despair, or folly?” said Gandalf. “It is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt.”
I read this part of the story when I was at a dark place in my life. I was losing not only my two best friends, but a future that I had anticipated and nurtured for two years. During this time, I doubted myself in a thousand ways, fighting to understand lies that didn’t make sense, trying to keep hopeful that everything would turn out all right. At the time it felt like false hope— which is worse than despair. 
This passage helped me recognize that blazing a trail through a dark time seems like despair, when in reality it is foolishness. And sometimes the foolish path is the only one left to take.
I received assurance from a reliable source (read: God) that, in the end, everything would be okay. This was foolishness at the time, but it was not despair. I could not see the end beyond all doubt. I still can’t. Don’t judge until it’s all over.
~Lisa Shafter


Cornerstone Festival: A Collage

Click for a larger view


This is the final epilogue to the Insomniac Folklore summer tour: a collection of 100 faces (101 if you count the turkey) from Cornerstone. I know several of these people, but the majority are strangers who I ambushed and said, “Can I take your picture for my blog?” The most common response was a slightly creeped-out look and a stuttered, “Uh… sure?” Sometimes they’d talk to me, and sometimes they’d move on quickly without saying goodbye. Some refused to do anything but a pleasant smile, while others were delighted when I said, “Make a face!”
The project was a good stretch for me— I have a hard time asking strangers for anything, even if it’s just a photo, and I also have a fear of bothering or interrupting people. However, out of the 130+ people I asked, only one said no, and she was a middle-schooler. 
I had intended to finish the collage while on tour, but as you can see, that didn’t work out so well. Although I assembled the collage about a week ago, I didn’t really organize it until yesterday and today. It’s been a long time since I worked in Photoshop, I realized. My biggest mistake was forgetting to name the layers, so I had 97 unnamed layers without knowing which one went to which face. I sorted that out this morning and tweaked the placement of each photo until I was happy with it.
Sorting through the faces brought back great memories of Cornerstone. Each of these souls has a story to tell, a life to live, a unique way to serve God. I’m glad that I could catch a glimpse of who they are to put together in a picture of the people I was honored to meet at the festival this year.
~Lisa Shafter

Monday, August 22, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Likes and Dislikes

Reposted from 8/24/2010
“Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!”
“They are,” said Frodo. “Do you like them still, now you have had a closer view?”
“They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,” answered Sam slowly. “It don’t seem to matter what I think about them.”
This quote isn’t particularly profound, but it embodies a way of viewing the world that I have always liked. There are some things on which we have no sway, such as the ocean, or the sun and moon, or the stars. They are bigger and grander and older than we can truly comprehend, hovering on another level where likes and dislikes don’t matter. When we accept that there are things higher than us, that acceptance brings a kind of peace. We can be content to be small as we step back to regard the beautiful with a sense of quite wonder, as Sam does here.
~Lisa Shafter

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: Unguarded Advice

Reposted from 8/22/2010
“Elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.”
This is the root of my entire outlook on giving and receiving advice. Tolkien, through Glorfindel, makes two observations: first, advice should never been given carelessly; second, no decision or choice is foolproof. In this blog I’ll focus on the first point.
The world is full of people who want to give opinions on everything. The most tolerable of these are ones who have no idea what they’re talking about— they are downright amusing sometimes. “You’re a writer? You should be an English major. You should apply to be a magazine columnist. You should write book reviews. You should try to get something in the New York Times. You should write picture books about Jesus.” These are obvious examples of wasted breath, an exaggerated picture of the advice we receive every day. These are easy to laugh off.
When the advice is more serious or accusatory, it’s not so easy to keep chuckling. For instance, many people in my life advised me to go to college— without ever taking the time to figure out what I was doing instead. I’ve been advised to rebound into another relationship after the breaking of an engagement, and to be “smarter” next time by being suspicious and uncommitted. I’ve been advised not to trust certain people (who later proved trustworthy), and to take my place in the world as an empowered female— which at this point would mean abandoning the calling in my family. All of this advice springs from preconceived ideas, paradigms of what the advisers think I should be: unguarded advice.
What, then, is “guarded advice?” This is where wisdom and selflessness come into the picture. When faced with a difficult decision, a mature person will already know the answer deep down, if only given the chance to uncover it. A discerning person can draw out that truth by asking questions, pointing out pros and cons, and referring the decision-maker to truth from other resources. Actual advice is rarely necessary. The adviser must draw on his wisdom, but he must not try to take control. The role of one who gives advice is not to throw adages or opinions at people, but to guide them to the decision that was there all along.
Does this mean that every venture will succeed if only we believe in ourselves? Of course not. Tolkien’s whole worldview denounces this idea, and I’ll elaborate on that later.
The role of advice— whether given or received— is to expose and test the Truth already hidden within. A wise man will say neither yes or no, only show the decision-maker what the decision truly is.
~Lisa Shafter


Saturday, August 20, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: The Road

Reposted from 8/20/2010
“It’s dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
Tolkien has influenced me in many ways, and not least of these is his view on travel. In Lord of the Rings, the Road is a character of its own: it calls people away from comfort in search of adventure, binds willing prisoners to lives of wandering, and bears the characters toward the destination that will bring victory or death. Although Tolkien emphasizes the joy and importance of travel, he never forgets the hobbit-hole at the end of the adventure— whether the journey is a foray to Mount Doom or just life on this earth. Every traveler’s final desire is, and should be, to return Home.
~Lisa Shafter

Friday, August 19, 2011

Tolkien Quotes: The Time That Is Given Us

Reposted from 8/18/2010
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
This is one of my all-time favorite LotR quotes. Tolkien delves to the heart of a truth that is difficult to accept: more often than not, we have no control over the evils that change our lives— but that’s not the end of the story. 
Human nature argues that this is unfair. When I face consequences of my own sin or stubbornness or stupidity, I may be upset, but I also feel a sense of justice— I messed up, and it’s coming back to bite me. Just as often, however, I suffer from the consequences of someone else’s mistake that was out of my control or knowledge. This feels wrong, and this is the heart of Frodo’s lament. Sauron came to power through no fault of Frodo’s; evil in our world often rises without our help or consent. 
Gandalf acknowledges that Frodo’s wish is common and expected, but it must not plunge him into despair. On one hand, Frodo has no choice: he was born into a world ruined by the greed of Sauron, just as we are born into a world ruined by the Enemy. On the other hand, choices abounds: Frodo has been given time on the earth graced with good health, devoted friends, a sharp mind, and caring mentors— now he just has to decide what to do with the gifts he has been given. Gandalf urges Frodo to focus on what he can change rather than what he can’t. This is a challenging call for all of us. 
Too often I give in to despair and sit down in the middle of the crossroads, refusing to make any of the choices before me. Instead I am indignant that I was born onto a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and wish I had been placed on a highway instead. With a gas-efficient Toyota. And a really good road map. However, God never lets me stay sitting down for long. In the end, I have to accept the road I’m on— and that acceptance frees me to focus on the choices that I can make.
Time is a gift. We can use that time to go right or left or even backwards, just as long as we keep walking.
~Lisa Shafter


Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Long Interlude


When I began this blog, I was about to set out for four months of travel, with only a three-week break to be home in between the adventures. This, and the title I chose to identify myself, makes me think of this as a “travel blog.”
The only problem is this: I’ve already decided that I’m not going to head out on any more travel adventures until January at the earliest. Why? I want to be home for my Dad as he faces surgeries, for my family as we uproot and find a new place to live, and for my seasonal job as the Scandinavian elf Mikko, Friend To All Children. 
In the meantime, what do I do with my travel blog? I’ve decided that I’ll post four kinds of entries on a regular basis (how regular has yet to be seen). 
The first is the “newsy” kind you’re used to from me. Even when I’m home, interesting things happen to me, like… today, I baked a cake, and my right leg has slightly dislodged from its socket, causing me to limp like Hopalong Cassidy. This is exciting! …Right? (If this had happened to me in Chehalis or San Fran or Salt Lake City, this would be intensely newsworthy, probably spawning a blog than would run several pages. Writing a lengthy discourse about it when I’m home just seems ridiculous.) I’ll try to pick newsworthy occurrences. 
The third is to pick up on a series of blogs centered on my thoughts regarding various quotes from Lord of the Rings. I’ll post a rerun of the entries I put on livejournal to get us caught up, and proceed from there. Expect a couple of those over the next few days.
The third form you will encounter is my “I’m too lazy to write a newsy blog” blog, which will usually consist of a brief description or observation. You may get those a lot.
The fourth structure will deal with my National Novel Writing adventure, but those won’t occur until October at the earliest. In the meantime, expect one of the above three kinds of blogs.
Thank you, as always, for reading. Here’s to an extended interlude for Lisa’s philosophical (and not so philosophical) ramblings.
~Lisa Shafter

Monday, August 8, 2011

Insomniac Folklore Tour: Being Home

It’s been five days since we arrived home, and I still feel off-balance, as if the normal routines of my life are something alien to me. Reality has burned like a cold iron this time as I plunge into a situation of stress and change, and the tour seems like it was a thousand years ago. Such is the nature of coming home.

The memories are still sharp— if I close my eyes I can smell the cool breeze of the Pacific and feel the steam rising off the sand. I can see the sunrise on the salt flats and remember the way Ayden laughed or the look on Amanda’s face when we’d whisper to each other, “We have a show today!” Waterfalls. Heat exhaustion. Pillow fights. Doughnuts. Three-AM laughter and poetry and rosin on my strings. These are the memories I’ll take with me the rest of my life. These are the stories I’ll tell my kids when they are old enough to understand, just as my dad told me stories about his tours. For the chance to make these memories, I’m extremely grateful.
Last Saturday, I rejoined my bandmates after an eternal three-day separation to play at a mini music festival hosted at my house. We got to enjoy other artists such as The Painted Soul, Watching Judas, M.C. Smithfield, and Piano Social. We played a set with Josh, our accordionist, for the first time since Cornerstone, and it was wonderful to have him back. The crowd was live; we were on our game. My parents remarked that we sounded worlds better than the last time they’d heard us. That’s what 23 shows in 37 days will do to you.
It’s impossible to tie up all the loose ends neatly after a trip like this, but the journey has drawn to a close. Insomniac Folklore plans to play out around St. Louis, and I’m sure it won’t be long before Tyler starts booking another tour.
In the meantime, my new journey is here, with my family. Time to buckle down and stay put for a while, to help sort what needs to be sorted and build what needs to be built. Thanks for coming on my travels with me, dear readers. Until next time.
~Lisa Shafter

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Insomniac Folklore Tour: Home

August 4th
We were supposed to have one final show yesterday in Springfield, but it fell through at the last minute, so by popular vote, we decided to head on home. Thus, the tour ended as it began: unbroken Illinois landscape on either side, muggy heat, a breeze tossing through the driver’s seat window, fluffy clouds in a chalk-blue sky. We listened to music, we ate at Subway, we weathered the traffic jams in comfortable silence. There was a beautiful symmetry to it.
First we stopped at my house and surprised my family with my early return. Tyler and I had a weigh-off to see who was heavier (fattest person is band leader, we have said all tour long) and I beat him by four pounds. We ate supper together and blurted out disconnected stories from tour to my family. But the sun was below the horizon, and it was time for Adrienne and Tyler and Amanda to head back to their family’s house, and me to stay at mine.
The feeling of loss and separation I felt when we said goodbye was ridiculous. “See you in three days,” I said, which is our next show. “That’s so far away!” Tyler yelled, and I couldn’t agree more. The four of us group-hugged in my driveway, and I held onto the three of them, unwilling to let go. I was extremely glad to be home with my family, but I also didn’t want the tour to end. I didn’t want to give up my travel companions to the grips of real-life friendships. You think you’d be sick of people when you’ve spent every waking hour with them for the past month. Not true in this case— I miss them already.
One last hug, one last wave. I watched the white van trundle down our driveway and out onto the street. Then I turned slowly, blinking my misty eyes, and turned inward to home, to family, and back to real life.
~Lisa Shafter

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Insomniac Folklore Tour: A Glimpse of Chicago

August 2nd
Last night we played a house show on the back patio of an apartment complex at a Baptist seminary, and got to revisit some of our Cornerstone friends, namely “Dougle,” a six-and-a-half-foot Scottish man who warmed up for us with some anti-anarchist punk songs. He and his roommates also gave us a floor on which to crash for two nights, since we didn’t have a show today.
Today we woke up early because one of the apartment neighbors had offered us free breakfast and coffee. We took the elevator to her floor and spent the next hour hanging out with her and eating the food she made us: vegan sausages (they didn’t taste like meat, but they were quite good) and Christmas pancakes (chocolate pancakes with peppermint flavor!). She sent us back downstairs with a bagful of food for the road tomorrow. Again, the generosity of the people we’ve met on this trip has been amazing.
After that, we agreed we had to visit downtown Chicago. This was my first time, so I was pumped as we walked out into the muggy air. We drove for what seemed like ages, and then ahead through the mist, I glimpsed a hazy silhouette of buildings, which sharpened with each passing minute. It was the Chicago skyline— with buildings more massive than I have ever seen in my life.
As we drove into the city proper, I saw it was everything I imagined: a mix of brick towers reminiscent of the Industrial Revolution and glassy skyscrapers shining with modern technology, streets crammed with cars and pedestrians, seagulls wheeling through the sky, wind lashing between the dichotomous buildings. 
It took us forever to find somewhere to park, and then we could only afford to buy two hours on the meter. We skirted the edge of Millennium Park (which was closed because of an upcoming festival), then walked along the edge of Lake Michigan. I had never seen any of the Great Lakes before, and it was strange to see a body of water as big as the ocean to the eye, disturbed only by tranquil ripples. The blue-green water faded into fog in the distance. 
We rode the Navy Pier Ferris Wheel (another first for me— I’ve never been on a ferris wheel), and then it was time to head back to the van to keep the meter from running out. By this time, Tyler looked as if he was about to keel over from heat exhaustion. By Midwest standards the weather was average for August, but Tyler’s internal temperature is set to Oregon, and that doesn’t go well with 90+ heat and humidity. I worriedly fed him water and trail mix, but he didn’t really revive until we were on the road on the way back to the apartment.
Now I sit in air conditioning, taking a break between editing my Write@Home papers. So long to Chicago for now— tomorrow we head to Springfield, and then this crazy-awesome month of tour will be drawing to a close.
~Lisa Shafter

Monday, August 1, 2011

Insomniac Folklore Tour: Down Days

August 1
On the 30th we left Minneapolis in the morning for the 7+ hour drive to Grayslake, Illinois for a show at a teen center called The Oasis. A handful of people showed up, and we listened to the other singer/songwriters performing before and after us. The woman who started The Oasis, Joyce, and her son Eric offered us lodging for the night, as well as a truckload of food, so we spent the night comfortably. Since we didn’t have a show the next day, they let us crash again. I spent most of the day working, hanging out with Joyce and Eric, and having pillow fights with Tyler and Amanda (I now have at least one bruise as a battle scar). Then Joyce took us out for pizza at a tavern and chocolate cake and fondue at a wine bar, after which I was so stuffed with bacon-barbecue-chicken double-decker pizza and chocolate-dipped marshmallows and apples and strawberries and cake that I could barely move. After that, we decorated a ceiling tile for The Oasis, and thereby are leaving a part of ourselves in Illinois. It was a good day.
Amanda, Joyce, Eric, Tyler
Today, we head out to Chicago for a house show. I’ve never been to Chicago proper, even though I live in St. Louis, so I’m looking forward to seeing a bit of the windy city. Stay tuned!
New ceiling tile!
~Lisa Shafter