Paapa Musing

Ghanaian, Musician, Skillionaire, Dreamer, Forgiven Sinner. Boring guy who sporadically does cool things. Music on iTunes: http://bit.ly/TUlFmi Download Solar album (free): http://bit.ly/NqcmIm Twitter: http://bit.ly/U2U2K8

[paapaversa]

https://soundcloud.com/paapamusic/disqui-etude

[paapaversa]

The fact about feelings...

...is that feelings are not facts. They are fleeting reactions to facts. Feelings may very well suggest some truth about the fact, as my being afraid of an approaching lion suggests something about the lion. But what my fear suggests isn't necessarily factual. My fear of the lion doesn't necessarily mean that the lion is fearsome. This particular lion may actually be trained and tamed, and may be the most toothless lion that ever lived. Feelings are real and true and genuine and certainly one of the qualities that separate humanity from other creatures, but I consider them a reliable foundation for decision and action just as much as I consider kale to be candy. Building skyscrapers of decisions on sandy emotions alone is one reason so many commitments, marriages, relationships and pursuits fall apart so easily when met with a gust of trials.  Not to say that emotions should be ignored completely; that would be asking humans to be robots and computers. Human love takes emotion as the primary source of truth, while computer love takes facts and emotionless information as primary source of truth. But there's a third kind of love: Godly love. Godly love takes Jesus, who was truth in the flesh, as the primary source of truth.  Jesus' life is the perfect synthesis of reason and emotion, conviction and compassion, sensibility and sensitivity. Jesus acted based on the truth that sin had corrupted the world, and men are unable to liberate themselves from the corruption. This truth and conviction generated his compassion for mankind; compassion that led him to the cross to show us how we must live; compassion that prevailed in the midst of fear, anxiety, weakness, temptation and all other emotions, so that mankind will have the chance to finally be liberated from the sin that corrupts this world. His life is the truth and his example is the only hope this world has. I am learning more and more that it takes conviction to make the kind of decisions that change a life, or change the world. Feeling by itself may see you through a little while, but conviction and intentional decision will see you all the way through. I no longer solely want to "feel like" something is true or right or good. I want to be convinced that it is. The point here isn't to have no emotion at all. The point is to control emotions and not have them control me. The point is to seek truth and conviction, and then submit emotion to them rather than the other way around, which seems to be the norm nowadays.

[paapaversa]

I like it when the wind shifts They say it's the movement of the Spirit Still small voice, ya'll hear it? Remember that time I saw that leaf fall I was positive it was God's call Wait for it, listen close Ya'll missed it? I cite Gideon, Sampson, Paul Elijah saw the clouds split And know that God did it And does it still Still, his presence feels like chills Right, and if I'm honest it doesn't happen often Something must be wrong It's boring when my life is more like the book of Ruth than Exodus I've never seen the partin' Of an ocean Or a cloud by day or pillar by night Just a normal everyday working of life Where things that suck royally Is evidence of his royalty Scratch your temple So deep it's simple Silly us, ignore the plain We prefer a riddle Dying to see a miracle While holding God's diary Looking for signs

Propaganda (Signs and Symbols)

[paapaversa]

Korku's Dream

Korku once had a great dream that came with a great fear. For a while, he didn't understand this fear, or why he had it in the first place. But all he knew was that it was there, with him, and that it was the only thing standing in the way of his dream seeing life. 

At first, he tried to ignore this fear: pretending it wasn't there seemed like the best way to usher out the dream. But anytime the dream reached the open door to reality, the fear plunged from nowhere and slammed the door shut, seconds before the dream's foot left the room of his mind. He tried other strategies. But the only one that worked was the first one he thought wouldn't: embracing the fear.

Korku once heard that to truly conquer something, one must know it very well, not ignore it. No great war was ever won without the victor knowing the defeated well enough. So he learnt more about his fear: trying not to love it but to understand it, how it worked, what it ate, what it loved, hated, what made it weak. He hastily learnt enough - but not everything - about this fear, and he killed it. 

The dream finally walked into reality, and then immediately killed him. The dream, now a living huffing & puffing reality, left him damaged and dead. He was too consumed with the dream to realize that the dream would consume him, for the dream was filled with greed, selfishness and impatience: a killer dream. There are fears that paralyze the host, and those that protect. It was too late to realize that his fear was the latter the whole time.

[paapaversa]

When truth drums

From tongues of old books which tell the greatest story, he heard the real truth. The truth found its way into a heart wide open. It drums a new beat. This beat is ancient, danced to by many before into peace and joy. Now his arms and feet are now free to be enslaved; to move when truth drums.

[paapaversa]

A Different Difference

Human beings will always be different from one another. If it isn't skin color, it's accents. If not accents, then philosophy or ideology. Whatever it is, we have a quick eye for spotting things about others that we're not familiar with: whatever may raise some question about our very existence. Because of this, hatred's seeds bud best in the soil of difference. Difference seems to always form the basis for hatred.

That's why I thank God for the church as it was meant to be. Within the authentic church, difference becomes the basis for something else: something more beautiful and life-giving than hatred. In the Church, Christ is the basis for love, and there is neither Jew nor Gentile, man nor woman, Akan nor Ewe. Difference works differently. Difference becomes the basis to love and be loved. That's a different kind of difference that I'm learning can exist only when people lay down their lives for each other.

[paapaversa]

Must be a blessing

I have to consider myself thankful, and privileged if you will, to have found my reality somehow interrupted by the The Community of Adsideo - a body of believers who fully celebrate God and live out their convictions in a way I often struggle to understand. Each time our lives intersect, I'm challenged further by their love for one another and their devotion to Christ to evaluate my own convictions and the fullness of what faith means.  I can't help but be thankful for what surely must be a blessing.

[paapaversa]

The studio, the stage, and the sting in between

I absolutely love music studios, especially the 'Skillions lab' in Accra. It's quite the magical place, where I get to transform silence into music and sound waves into megabytes. Recording music is quite the cool craft, transforming a fluid & immaterial artform (music) into something still not tangible but more permanent (recorded music). I love love love recording music. The safety of the recording booth, and the convenience of the delete key make it a space the perfectionist in me feels most at home in.

The stage is this other very, very magical place. It's where music comes alive. Music is a nomad. It's home isn't on CDs, iPods, stereos, etc. It's home is the wind, the air, travelling between the instruments and vocal cords of the musicians into the ears and hearts of the listeners. While in the air, it gets blended and unified with the energy of both performer and listener, travels into the ears and hearts of the listeners, and circles back into the heart of the performer to continue this unearthly cycle. The stage is where I get to be part of this beautiful process called 'Live music'. I prefer to call it 'Alive music'.

Sadly, the journey from the studio to the stage stings, and sometimes stinks too. I've lost countless hours, calories and cedis in between these two magical places, and found frustration, exhaustion and disappointment. There is certainly a lot of joy in long rehearsals, numerous media appearances, writing press releases, designing tickets, etc. But those things matter the least to me in my life, or at least matter far less to me than recording and performing music do.

But you know what makes the sting worth it? You know why I bother with the stink of running all over the place? The same reason the chicken crossed the road - to get to the other side. To get from recording music all the way to performing it, there is a windy & bumpy road that must be crossed. For me to share all my gifts with others, to give my life away in the best way I know how, to honor the call that God has given me to share my faith, I need to be stung. I love the studio, I love the stage, and I need to love the sting in between.

[paapaversa]

This man will rest

A mind plagued with doubt, in a man unfamiliar with honesty, whose heart, a heart barely beating, was long left by the man himself to bleed on the streets of faith in quiet, in pain. Lying on streets once brightly lit, but now, paled. This light is flawed, for it has failed, fallen far from the perfect light that his heart just knows exists, but has never truly known. His heart lays there, shivering, veiled behind pretense and in fear of being trampled on by the very people it beats for. But the veil could and can't stop the bleeding, and never will, and this man can no longer run as fast, worn and torn by and between two ends. So this man will rest and remove the veil because his heart has met another, also bleeding, yet without a veil and more familiar with honesty. This man will rest, and be still, and on bended knees he will go praying for God to save his soul and heart. Because the only thing that can stop the bleeding is that Light, the One he has never truly known, but only knows that he truly needs it.

[paapaversa]

The last card

I've been refraining from posting much about the George Zimmerman case. The media has perhaps been sinking its teeth a little too deep into the Trayvon Martin case, and making sure I know so much more about it than what's going on right now in the city of Goma, DR Congo.

But nevertheless, it is a tragedy. To think that a family will never hear from their Trayvon, and to think that his side of the story will never be heard especially because it died with him, deepens this tragedy. Monitoring the course of events has felt like watching a drama movie, except that it's real hurt and real pain and real people. Anyone who knows me knows I'm ever the last person to bring up matters of race. I've lived in the US for only two years, studying at one of its most liberal colleges. In other words, I'm only just discovering what race is, and what racism really looks like.

But outside the jury box, the courtroom, outside the Zimmerman and Martin families, lookers-on like myself are genuinely confused, minds reeling for answers. I've come to understand that the race card is an uncomfortable one to pull. It's nebulous, and tired. I don't think people of color enjoy pulling it out for pulling it out's sake. Yet it's been pulled out by many after the Zimmerman verdict, and as much as I'm trying not to, I'm drawn to do the same. Not out of ignorance, but out of a lack of any other viable options. It's the only card I have left.

If someone has any other options, please please share with me because Lord knows I don't want to pull that card. But until that happens, until someone, perhaps a member of that jury, gives me something else that's viable enough to pull out, race will be the card on the table for me. And before you suggest another card, please watch MSNBC's Martin Bashir ask some tough and valid questions. Before you ask me to keep that card off the table, tell me how this verdict can be given in the same state and time period as this one concerning a [black] florida mom sentenced 20 years for firing warning shots.

If justice in the US had a race, I'm inclined to think that it wouldn't be black.

[paapaversa]

The honest state of mine

Has honesty become all too rare, like green patches in a desert, like sunshine in a Ghanaian July, so rare that people get alarmed and shocked whenever they meet it, and they don't really know what to do with this shock so it ends up turning into hurt, anger, anguish? I have a lot more to learn about honesty. Not that I don't know what it is, and it's not like I enjoy lying or anything of the sort, but I don't think I value it enough. I say that because each time I'm faced with the sticky and delicate choice between peace and honesty, I just go for peace. If integrity is about being truthful with one's self, I like to think I have the integrity thing down. I know my convictions, I form strong and balanced opinions, and examine them often. If I'm having a bad day, I don't even try to hide it from myself. If I have feelings for someone, I quickly admit them, to myself. If I believe Jesus is THE way, truth and life, I confess that, to myself. But if honesty is about telling the truth to others, even when it costs peace, then I have a lot of work to do. For some reason, I've always placed a higher premium on peace. Perhaps growing up and hearing stories about the previous absence of it in Ghana may have contributed, I don't know. Maybe growing up with a stammer may have wired me to take that less confrontational route, I'll never be sure. But all I know is that each time it seems my honesty will cost me a lot of peace, I keep it in my pocket. Maybe we haven't been more graceful in our honesty? I've met enough rude and opinionated folk who serve their honesty cold, corrosive and bitter. Perhaps we need to serve it warm, soothing and maybe even sweet. I don't know. Or maybe we're making honesty difficult for peace-huggers. We ask questions, and then expect answers in a certain way and get upset when we hear something we don't want to. It seems we don't really want honesty, cause if we did there'd be less getting upset about getting it. My music seems to be the only external place I feel safest with my honesty. If people get offended listening to it, the blame is a little further from me because they pressed play, or tuned in to that radio/TV station, not me. If people like the honesty too, goal. I suppose honesty is one of those things that hit the heart straight, because it's from the heart. Each time I've been honest, my heart has felt lighter, as though I laid off a piece of it, which is probably why songwriting has always felt so liberating. Perhaps in God's wisdom, He gave me this gift for this very purpose too. I'm still going to try being honest with people even if it costs me peace. I mean, I guess I can find peace later on, right?

[paapaversa]

Live like we're dying

This life. We try. We fail. We fall. We rise. We grow. We die.

I never really knew how to feel about death/dying. People are either terrified of it, unmoved, motivated, blinded or enlightened by it. I recently came to a place in my life where I had become more ready for it. Certainly not eager for it, just more ready for it. At 21, perhaps I’m too young to be “ready for death". But am I? What’s the right age to be ready? Why is that the right age?

“Intellectually we all know that we will die, but we do not really know it in the sense that the knowledge becomes a part of us. We do not really know it in the sense of living as though it were true. On the contrary, we tend to live as though our lives would go on forever” - Frederick Buechner

We respect age, Ghanaians especially, but death doesn’t quite respect age like we do. Many people face death a lot more squarely everyday than me. Drone attacks, hunger, cancer, suicide bombs, bullying and others threatening and/or taking the lives of the young and old. Death has always been around, but it’s presence never felt stronger.

When people die and we mourn them, are we feeling sorry for them? Shouldn’t we be feeling sorry for ourselves? Whether there’s an afterlife or not, I’m pretty sure death brings some relief to the dead. When young people die we go like “why did they have to die so young?”. But recently, I’ve been like “why not? What’s ‘too young’ or ‘the right time’ to die? If we do believe in Heaven to be a much better place, why not go there?”

Forgive me if this comes off as insensitive to anyone who has lost someone dear to them, or triggering for anyone who has been or is suicidal. I am in no way endorsing suicide, murder, disease, death and its friends. I believe that God alone reserves the right to make and take life, and that is one of my most solid convictions.

But death is something each of us will meet at some point in this life, that point being the last. My belief in Christ’s resurrection brings me a certain level of peace, which has robbed death of a lot of its sting. Reading some work by Dietrich Bonhoeffer this summer may have also pulled this peace a little lower for me to be able to reach. I think that talking or thinking a little more about our bodies’ inevitable death would help us focus more on things that will last forever, like love, and would urge us to make the most of this life we’re given to honor the Giver.

This life. We try. We fail. We fall. We rise. We grow. We die.

Next life, we live. Eternal rest, or eternal strife.

[paapaversa]

The Greatest Risk

The people you love the most can be your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness too. True and Godly love is a risk. You risk frustration and hurt, anger and confusion, vulnerability and heartache. But it's a risk worth taking. It's the greatest risk worth taking. Because on the other side of the coin are these: joy and beauty, clarity and comfort, satisfaction and security. To stay away from loving is to stay away from all these. Only those who take this risk to love can receive the ultimate joy it offers. Take it.

[paapaversa]

Lyrics for Kukua

By popular request, lyrics for every track on my Songs for Kukua album are now online. and you can find them here. Do check them out when you can.

Yours truly, Paapa

[paapaversa]

Chameleon

From BeYoutiful to Write for Me, Jesus Cries to Richest Man, Solar to Songs for Kukua. Different clothes, different skins, same heart and mission through it all. To make art that's positive, edifying and good in God's sight. To create art art motivated and driven by the gospel, for the sake of the gospel. Though it may not always be explicit, it is, and always will be, the mission.

"Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" (1 Cor. 9: 19-23 NIV).

[paapaversa]

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

Each time I go home, the dark-gold, fluffy carpet in the middle of the living room doesn’t feel the same under my feet. Everything feels different. But I find that my home itself hasn’t changed much since I left it. I find that the only thing that’s changed is me.

I can’t say much about other colleges, but Reed College changes you. As you walk through its hallways, lecture halls, and classrooms, it walks through your mind, heart and bones. I never realise how deep its footprints go until I get home and experience a severe contrast - one that grows sharper with each return - oscillating between Reed College, a haven for liberalists, dissenters and skeptics, and Ghana, a place where few people, if any, are ruminating on sex & gender being social constructions; where few people are debating the existence of God and the significance of religion; where very few people are fighting for gay marriage.

But I hope my footprints also go deep into the heart of Reed College, and that the trail I leave will be a trail worth leaving. I hope that the Reed I met 2 years ago will be different, if not better, than the Reed I will leave behind in 2 years. I pray to see a Reed that heralds, at its heart, wisdom and faith just as loudly as virtue and reason.

Spending so much time out of my comfort zone makes my comfort zone even more comforting whenever I get back to it. But at this point of my life, my comfort zone isn’t really my sprightly home in Ghana, nor is it my quiet dorm at Reed. Perhaps I’ll find it somewhere in between, or above. Is this what happens when you submit your identity not to country, career or college, but to Christ? Is this my spirit finally knowing what it feels like to thirst for an eternal home outside of this world?

My home hasn’t changed much, but I have, and that changes my home, and everything.

[paapaversa]

It's hard to forgive when ruled by your feelings. Pain, anger, and others in their family, need you to keep them alive. They feed off your soul, draining out every drop of serenity you have, flourishing from the freedom you forfeit in choosing not to forgive. For millennia, pride has been their greatest and most loyal ally. Their survival strategy has been and will always be to keep you from forgiving.