Stuff to consider

I have a great deal of trouble following my own advice, even though it’s rooted in Scripture: “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” and in popular wisdom: “Most things I worry about never happen anyway.” Jesus and Tom Petty (in that order) are very wise. And yet here I am worrying about stuff.

I do consider the lilies of the field, and they are lovely — maybe not this time of year, but at least while they’re blooming. And I do consider the sparrow, who manages to eat and fulfill his destiny, which is to maintain the species and add beauty to the world.

And so I ought to feel safe in the knowledge that if he cares about the lilies and the sparrows, he will keep an eye on me. Of course, there’s also that notion that he won’t throw anything my way that I can’t bear with his help — and what can THAT be? — but then he also says don’t worry about tomorrow because today has enough troubles of its own. Wait, what? Today has troubles?

The point always comes down to “Trust Jesus,” and I do. He did, after all, give himself as a sacrifice so that we who trust in him are OK for eternity, which includes today and tomorrow.

I look out at the bird feeder expecting to see some feathered friends enjoying what I can share from the Lord’s bounty — instead I see two fat squirrels. This agitates my two dogs, of course, but when all is said and done, I just sigh and decide to enjoy a sunny morning. If he cares about lilies and birds and me, surely God loves squirrels, too. They ARE pretty fat for this time of winter.

It’s simple

We are commanded:

To love, not condemn.

To love, not condone.

The continuing debt

Every so often my mind returns to a couplet I wrote years ago trying to drum up a song:

“I’ve heard people say all the world is a stage;
From what I can tell, it’s a play about rage.”

It still hasn’t blossomed into a song — maybe it’s not the opening lines but somewhere in the middle.

I grow old … I grow old … Do I dare to eat a peach? Yes, that’s a non sequitur. I continue to be dicombobulated when I raise my head above the trench line and peek at the ongoing play. So many people are so angry at the horrible behavior of other people that they scarcely notice the horrible behavior among those who agree with them.

And how do I respond when someone broaches the topic? Nod in apparent agreement, or meet rage with rage? No, my instinct these days is not to conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. Yes, I cribbed that line from my old friend Paul, and I’ve referenced Will Shakespeare and T.S. Eliot while I’m in the neighborhood. 

“Do not repay anyone evil for evil,” Paul wrote to his friends in Rome. “Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

Ah, but these are not peaceful times, one might respond. How can you live at peace when THOSE PEOPLE are DOING THAT?

I’m trying so hard, and Paul tells me to just try harder: “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for he who loves his fellow man has fulfilled the law.”

So, I’m going to try just a little bit harder, which is a fine Janis Joplin tune, by the way. And I’m pretty sure few people have ever referenced Shakespeare, Eliot, Janis and Paul the apostle in the same essay. I’m fairly confident I haven’t.

I Need A New Song

I sat down the other night, took out my song notebook, and said out loud, “I need a new song.” That struck me as not a bad first line for a new song. I was kind of amazed by what God sent along. 

We all need love, peace and sweet release.

I need a new song, a song of love,
I need a new song, a song of peace, 
I need a new song that says it won’t be long, 
I need a song of sweet release.

I need a new way, a way of love,
I need a new way, a way of peace,
I need a new way to find a sunny day,
I need a way of sweet release.

The man on the hill said love one another;
He said, “Hear me now, love your brother,”
And sister, don’t you cry, it’s going to be all right —
Take my hand, we’ll stand together against the night.

I need a new day, a day of love,
I need a new day, a day of peace, 
I need a new song, there’s just too much that’s wrong,
I need a day of sweet release.

©℗ 2026 w.p. bluhm. All rights reserved.

Love and learning

I’m still reflecting on what my pastor friend said Sunday about having fun studying the Bible — “You might say I HAVE to say that because I’m a pastor, but maybe I’m a pastor because the Bible is fun.”

There’s an oft-quoted saying that if you find a job doing what you love, you won’t work a day in your life. That’s mostly true. I did love making radio and newspapers back in the day, but even then there were days when the work felt like work, if you know what I mean, and I’m sure you do. Even a guy who has fun exploring the Bible is going to wake up some mornings and say, “Oh Lord, why do I have to be a pastor today?!”

And what do you do if what you have fun doing does not pay the bills? I had a lot of fun in the 1980s writing and recording my songs, but it never turned into something that would enhance my bank account — partially (strike that, your honor) mostly because I was unwilling to do the things persistently that singer-songwriters have to do to get their songs out to the world.

These days it’s a lot easier to distribute your music to the world from the comfort of your home, without the weeks on a tour bus or the other dues musicians have had to pay in past years. And so, perhaps, I might become the oldest guy ever to win the “Best New Artist” Grammy award. I would settle for a few dollars tossed into my guitar case while I play on a sunny street corner, or whatever the modern-day equivalent is. With a sweet blonde cheerleader nudging me on, maybe this time I get heard.

At the very least, I’m writing new songs and taking the old songs out from under the bushel basket after 40-odd years. It’s a start.

• Fifty-odd years ago, when I first started playing the guitar and writing songs, my best friend Ed gave me my first bit of constructive criticism  “I notice you don’t play anything farther up the neck.” I have only occasionally explored past the third or fourth fret in all these years — that’s part of the reason I called my last album New Dog, Old Tricks.

I set my guitar aside for more than 10 years and have only been playing again for about two, and now I’m timidly starting to tinker in that zone where Ed tried to direct me those decades ago. I’m sure it will make my playing more interesting if I stick to it — and the “if I stick to it” is the story of my life. New habits are hard to make.

I wrote a song for everyone

The CD Baby system told me the other day that since 2010, my online albums Ten Thousand Days and New Dog, Old Tricks have earned me 81 cents from streaming services like Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music and others. They will share this bounty with me when the sum reaches $25. At this pace, I figure I can count on my estate picking up the check in about 30 years.

w.p. bluhm, my singer-songwriter alter ego, has been going through a little creative surge of late. Since about Dec. 28 I have composed enough material (including new songs, arranging a medley and learning a vintage Rick Nelson tune) for a new 10-song album, but since most are two to three minutes long, I have set a target of writing at least four more songs before I declare a full album. If 14 songs was the standard length of an album for the Beatles and other U.K. bands of the sixties, I guess it’ll do for me.

I have completed two recordings so far. “You Just Say When” might be the breakthrough hit that gets me to my 25 bucks, based on Mary’s enthusiastic response, but she is a tad biased. “I’m Gonna Love You” is a rocker with mucho cowbell and an ominous “guitar” solo, but I don’t know if it’s a hit song. 

“Guitar” is in quotes because the solo was generated using GarageBand’s “Musical Typing” feature. GarageBand, the music-creation software application that comes with Apple computers, can make my guitars sound like completely different instruments, or I can type a tune with many amazing sounds. It’s amazingly versatile for a freebie app.

My friend the pastor said on Sunday that studying the Bible is fun, adding, “You might say that I HAVE to say that because I’m a pastor, but maybe I’m a pastor because the Bible is fun.”

I have fun writing and recording my songs and designing album covers — does that mean I was born to be a singer-songwriter or designer? The 81 cents suggests the market is telling me no, but it’s fun anyway.

When we’re having fun, are we close to discovering our life’s purpose, the work we were born to do? Let’s see what happens with this new music and take it from there.

P.S. After writing the above, I checked CD Baby again and discovered that my balance jumped to 90 cents over the weekend. Nashville, here I come!

In search of kindness

The blogger who goes by the name Toirdhealbheach Beucail posted McLaren’s thought on Sunday. There’s a lot of hammering going on in this world these days, and not many people seem interested in melting hard hearts.

There’s an old saying, “If all you have is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail.”

The McLaren quote gave me a new perspective on the old folk song “If I Had A Hammer.’ In the final verse the singer reveals he does have a hammer, and it’s “the hammer of justice.”

There are a number of ways to deliver justice with a hammer. You could build a courthouse. You could also build a gallows, or a guillotine. You could bash someone’s head in. In fact most ways of wielding a hammer in the name of justice are pretty violent. And violence may provide what you consider to be justice, but it’s not going to soften many hearts to win arguments, let alone the world.

The world has plenty of hammers. It’s in desperate need of kindness.