Imagine Peace Tower

Once More, Into the Sky

I wrote this three years ago -- and edited it just a little for today.

Today is John Lennon's birthday. If he'd lived, he would be 72 years old.

That's almost impossible to imagine. And out of all the celebrities who've died in my lifetime, I took his death the hardest. (I never met him, I didn't even like all his music, but there was something about his spirit that I connected with at a very deep and fundamental level.)

In the same way, I connect with Iceland in a very deep and fundamental level. There's something amazing and spiritual about Iceland and it's reflected in their lifestyle, their music, and in their amazingly beautiful scenery.

Every year, Iceland holds a huge music festival in October called Iceland Airwaves. Every year I vow to get there, but I haven't made it yet.

In 2006, Yoko Ono started construction on the Imagine Peace Tower, on a small island just off the coast of Reykjavik, Iceland. Since this project combined John Lennon and Iceland, I followed its progress closely.

The "tower" consists of a wishing well, on which is written the phrase "Imagine Peace" in 24 languages. Under the base of the wishing well are more than a half-million handwritten wishes Ono collected from people all around the world.

In 2007, the tower was unveiled. Each year on John Lennon's birthday, the monument becomes a "tower of light" as 15 searchlights are bounced through mirrors and prisms to create a beam of light that stretches more than 12,000 feet into the sky. The tower of light is kept lit each year until December 8 (the day John Lennon was killed).

If you can't make it to Iceland, you can see live streaming video of the tower here.

Visit the official Imagine Peace Tower website online here.

Or take a look at a great time-lapse video of the tower from 2011 (complete with aurora activity around 12 seconds in):

IMAGINE PEACE TOWER from Yoko Ono on Vimeo.

Sold My Soul For Less

In that long tunnel of time...

I loved this song the first time I heard it as a kid.

I knew there was something amazing and important about it. Even if it would be many years before I'd have the life experience to imagine what that amazing, important thing was.

And now, it's been more time since Jim Croce died than it was between his birth and his death.

Which makes the song seem more fragile and beautiful now than ever before.

Or maybe I'm finally old enough to understand.

Post-Debate Analysis

Yesterday on Facebook and Twitter, I put forward a suggestion.

Instead of standing behind podiums (or is it podia?), candidates will engage in Candidate Debarchery.

This is a combination of Debate and Archery.

So any time one of the candidates lie, his opponent gets to shoot him with an arrow.

Yes, it's a Hunger Games-y suggestion, but we live in Hunger Games-y times.

Then I saw the debate.

And literally all I can think of is this:



(Skip directly to 0:43 for the important part...)

Debate Prep

They Might Not Be Giants

There aren't enough rock songs that can double as hardcore history.

This may or may not be one:



In an alternate universe, John & John are the coolest teachers in a suburban High School somewhere outside of Boston.

Playing I-IV-V Chords Like Good News

Not Star-Crossed Anymore

"That's epic," she said.

And then she kept talking. And I stopped listening. I didn't realize that until much later; but that's what happened.

And it's not her fault. She was just using a word. A word all her friends use.

A word that used to mean so much more.

"Epic" shouldn't be just good. It should be astonishing, awe-inducing. It should aim for something impossible. It should be less craft and more art.

It should be rare. Something to strive for.

And she kept talking. As I thought about epics.

The ones that still resonate. And the ones that failed.

Monumental failures. Embarrassing failures. And the failures that were interesting not for what they achieved, but for the way they couldn't quite hit the target they aimed for.

I thought about Apocalypse Now, a movie so deeply flawed and endlessly compelling. Not always for what it achieved, but for the intent that it couldn't realize.

And still she kept talking.

And I remembered Harry Chapin. His best songs were transcendent. His worst were cringe-worthy. Who seemed obsessed with making a Great American Statement through music -- but was putting out records in the 1970s when the best American Statements seemed far in the past. A guy who'll be remembered less for performing hundreds of benefit concerts per year and more for a catchy song with lyrics that read like a first draft.

And then she stopped talking.

And I stared at her.

"I don't think you know what that word really means," I said.

She smiled. Because that's what she does. "It doesn't matter if I use the wrong words, as long as you know what I meant."

And I nodded. I knew what she meant.

But it would never be epic.

Because she wasn't even trying for epic. She was trying for adequate.

And I was looking for something else.

Something that aimed for transcendence.

Even if it ultimately failed.



This song is 35 years old. Older than the 34 that caused the song's narrator to make the song's narrator feel old when he realized he'd lived longer than Jesus and Moses.

And even if the attempt to interweave the decline of the U.S. with the decline of the music business doesn't quite work... and even if the lyrics sometimes seem a little strained... and even if the entire exercise seems impossible... the attempt is nothing short of epic.

Pointers

Mirror hopping days of coarse reaction...

Shouldn't you be helping?

It's not my deal. It's not what I do.

No. Maybe not. But they need you.

There's plenty of others who could do it.

True. But they're not--

I know. But I'm not either.

So you're going to let them be.

It's not my place.

And not your problem.

Exactly. It's not my problem.

You've done this before.

Yes. Once. And you know how that turned out.

I do. But those were different times. You were a different person.

We all were.

They need you. I'm just saying.

So I do what?

Help.

If You Feel There's Something Missing

I've Been Waiting All the Summer... Waiting For the Winter to Come

It's officially Fall.

And in Nome, Alaska it snowed this morning. (The snow started to accumulate, then the sun came out and melted it.)

Perhaps coincidentally, there are exactly 12 hours of daylight today in Nome.

They're losing 6 and a half minutes of light per day. It's a long way from the summer, when there was 24 hours of light (and almost 24 hours of sun) per day.

And it's a long way from the end of December, when the sun will peak out over the horizon, stay low in the sky for less than 4 hours, then slide down as if it's giving up.



Fall is a quick season in Alaska. The last gasps of summer soon give way to snow. And the cold that hung around for so long last year moves back into the landscape with a quickness that can be frightening.

And if the song above is too silly and nonsensical for you, if the summer already seems like a distant memory, I'd like to recommend a little of this: