SOME ASTRAL CHEMICAL PHYSICAL MYSTICAL SOMETHING

It’s become a running joke among my high school friends that our friend C.H. has an allergy to the word ‘blessing.’ 

We didn't quite know the extent of his antipathy until a few years ago when eight of us gathered for a long weekend in Santa Barbara and our friend Matthew made a toast at dinner where he ended by saying that our having been friends all these years has been ‘a real blessing.’ 
 
“Blessing?” C.H. quickly scoffed. “It’s not a blessing.”
 
We were somewhat taken aback at his ferocious objection to the word. Most of us thought Matthew’s deployment of the word was fairly benign, but C.H. was insistent. Why 'blessing?' Why couldn’t Matthew have used the less overtly theological 'fortunate?' 
 
C.H.’s atheism has been a long-established fact. On the eve of his confirmation he told the priest and nun who were his Sunday School teachers that he did not believe in God. Word got back to his very Catholic and very horrified parents. He went ahead with the confirmation but after that declared that he was done with church. He never wavered. 

He has long felt – not without justification – that religion has been a force of evil for humanity and he loathes that the language of religion has infected our everyday speech. Thus he recoiled when the word ‘blessing’ was used to describe a friendship that is really, according to C.H., simply the result of us having been born around the same time, attending the same high school, and digging each other’s company. It has nothing to do with God, spirit, church, or fate. To impose theological language upon it sullies it somehow. 

Over the years we’ve needled C.H. about this, dropping the word ‘blessing’ in whenever we’re all gathered. Since the quarantine began that same group has been sharing regularly on Marco Polo and it’s been terrific. We picked up the ‘blessing’ argument in earnest some time ago and had a spirited volley of posts about it. 

Like C.H. I too recoil from much of traditional old-man-in-the-sky religion and as an adult I've had to rewrite many of the unhelpful if lousy narratives around God and religion many of us inherited, namely that God is some off-planet deity that’s either interceding in human affairs or callously indifferent. And most perniciously: that life is a kind of worthiness test to win the favor of this deity under threat of eternal torment. 

But I have a hard time time tossing it all overboard. The mystery is simply too compelling.

I am certain there is an intelligence in the universe greater than my own. What we call that intelligence doesn't keep me awake at night. All I know is that I am not in control of the wind that is blowing through the trees right now. I do not make the sun rise and set and the moon appear at night and the stars shine. I am not commanding my heart to beat. My nails and hair to grow. My lungs to inhale and exhale air. 
 
That I have consciousness – that I have the ability to feel and think and grieve and love and create – all of that feels like a blessing to me. Something bigger than me, some vast astral chemical physical mystical something brought me to this moment. That I’m even here at all wearing my first pair of glasses (it was time) typing these words – and that you are reading them – is astonishing. Because it could just as easily have not been the case.

I am humbled by that. 

I am humbled by the the absolute improbability that any of this is happening. The fact that I know and love these guys, that somehow we were conceived in the same general vicinity and born around the same time. That we spent these formative years of our lives together, graduated in the same class, and continued to be in touch all these years later during that insane global moment of peril and holy opportunity. All of that, when I really sit with it, astonishes me. 

This astonishment does not come naturally to me. I am not a perpetually grateful, awake, and aware person. I have to remind myself that I'm in the midst of a miracle, that I am awash in blessings. Otherwise I fall under the spell of cynicism, detachment, and boredom. If I'm not careful I'll put myself and my discontent at the center of the universe. Which is no fun for anyone.

C.H. hasn't budged on his distaste for the word 'blessing' and that's totally fine. Because here’s another astonishing thing about being a human being: We’re free to draw our own conclusions about what it means to be alive and how to infuse our lives with meaning (or not.) Some people see the world through the lens of molecules and cosmic accidents, some through the lens of politics and social struggle, some through the lens of theology and mysticism. I don’t know that one way is superior. We’re all wired differently. That we can all choose the story we wish to follow feels like yet another blessing. 

I feel blessed to be a part of this grand story, a small but consequential piece of this enormous art project. I can do nothing but bow to the larger map, this grand design whose conception I had nothing to do with and whose meaning and ultimate purpose I can only guess at. It was not something I requested or made happen on my own. It was given to me. It’s a gift.

And all I can say is “Thank you.”

I want to hear from you. Ask me some questions! 

I've been super inspired by The Red Hand Files, Nick Cave's weekly email (If you're not signed up do yourself a favor) He basically just answers questions from readers, but in the most thoughtful, engaging, and entertaining manner possible. Sometimes the questions and answers are deep and searching, other times light and hilarious. (His pitch: "You can ask me anything. There will be no moderator. This will be between you and me. Let's see what happens.")

Can you ask me anything? Within reason :) Let's keep it Muse-adjacent. I won't be seeing every question and obviously I won't be able to answer every one. But I'm sure some of your deepest most searching questions will provoke something in me and maybe we can figure out more of this life thing together. 

Reply to this email or send questions to: muse@joshradnor.com

I’ve been reading and loving Pete Davis’ “Dedicated: The Case for Commitment in an Age of Infinite Browsing.” It’ll probably spark a Museletter but for now I very much recommend grabbing yourself a copy. This interview with him is also terrific.

Loved chatting about all things with my pal Spencer Crandall on his podcast "Why Are We Here?" I met Spencer awhile back in Nashville and we had the best time writing some songs together. Here's one of them called "Goodbye Again." 

Also enjoyed talking about songwriting and my new EP on this here podcast. 
And more on THIS here podcast: The Resistance.

A Once-in-a-Lifetime Chance to Start Over: It’s time to prepare for a new and better normal than your pre-pandemic life.

Stacey Abrams Contains Multitudes (does she ever!) 

“If Anything Happens I Love You” won the Oscar for Best Animated Short Film. It is devastating and beautiful and very much deserved to win.

There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling. It’s Called Languishing. 

Speaking of Blah (Blah), loved this piece on Abigail Spencer and County Line Florals in The Hollywood Reporter: The subscription service was created following her father’s fatal heart attack. "When something crazy happens to you that’s traumatic, you have a choice — to do something beautiful with it."

By bearing witness — and hitting ‘record’ — 17-year-old Darnella Frazier may have changed the world

This tore me up: Being Black in America is Exhausting. 

As did this: I Spent My Life Consenting To Touch I Didn’t Want.

Monica Lewinsky wrote this really thoughtful piece for Vanity Fair months ago. Still incredibly relevant: The Forgotten F-Word in the Pandemic.

A really lovely interview with Lee Isaac Chung, the Oscar-nominated director of Minari. And here's a link to the Ursula K. Le Guin essay he references throughout (The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction) which bowled me over. 

And finally: The finest agnostic country song ever written: Let The Mystery Be by Iris DeMent
 

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As always, if you’re enjoying these please spread the word (people can sign up ) And if you’re new and wanna catch up check out past Museletters. JR