Brendon Etter and I recorded the first episode of the radio show/podcast Front End Alignment (FEA) on Tuesday in the KRLX 88.1 FM studios at Carleton College. KRLX News Director Brandon Walker graciously produced the show.

• 0-6:00: intro to FEA
• 6-12:30: Lewis Black’s list of ‘Why I believe/don’t believe in God"
• 12:30-16:45: Reflections on performing in The Rocky Horror Show (Northfield Arts Guild)
• 16:45-27: Torture at home and at war; could I have done that? (FEA blog post)
• 27-31: wrap-up

Misc show notes/links:

• Me of Little Faith by Lewis Black
• Why women aren’t funny by Christopher Hitchens
• Theme song: Music, Motorcycles and Money, by Gary Dean Jennings, courtesy of the Podsafe Music Network.

Click play to listen. 31 minutes. The show airs/streams Thursdays at 4pm CT on KRLX 88.1 FM. (I’ll have the RSS feed working soon, as well as a downloadable MP3.)

As with most tools, though, there’s a range of skill involved in doing SOS. I’m not a clueless newbie, but Master Craftsman status is not something I expect to achieve anytime soon. So despite miscellaneous legal and financial hassles recently, I was feeling that "Hey, life’s not half bad" feeling on Monday, so it occurred to me some SOS was in order. Here’s an approximate replay of how it went for me.

I’m headed back to Northfield after a early afternoon meeting in Burnsville. I decide to stop at Ritter Farm Park, a municipal nature preserve in an outer suburb of the Twin Cities. It’s a postcard-perfect fall day, about 60 degrees, sunny, light wind. The leaves are a little past peak but the still-green short grass and blue skies provide a vivid contrast to the brown weeds and a the brilliant offerings of bright yellow aspen trees and dark red oaks. As I leave the parking lot, I start walking along a cross country ski trail for a couple of blocks, up a gentle incline.

I wonder if that potential client I met last week at the tech party will really be interested. He did ask quite a few questions, but maybe that was just… Oops, let it go. Just walk, smell, look, and listen.

I follow the trail till it spills into a large meadow.  One glance at a milkweed and memories of childhood come flooding back. I pluck a ripe pod off the stem and pry it apart. A large drop of sticky milk oozes out the bottom of the pod. Cool. I haven’t done this since I was twelve, I bet.

I leave the trail and walk through the field. The thick grass, now brown and leaning over, crunches slightly underfoot. I notice spots all over the field where deer have been bedding down, so I do the same. Comfy. I’m on a slight incline, with my head and back resting on an old pocket gopher mound. I gaze up at the deep-blue sky and see hawks circling high above.  The words to Greg Brown’s The Poet Game come floating into my head:

Down by the river, junior year, walking with my girl, we came upon a place,
There in the tall grass where a couple had been making love, And left the mark of their embrace,
I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun," She said to me, "Let’s do the same,"
And still I taste her kisses and her freckles in the sun when I play The Poet Game.

The cool breeze and warm sun make a delicious combination. A noisy jet crosses the sky, and the hum of nearby I-35 is omnipresent, but I’m not bothered. I’m reveling.

Hmm, I wonder if I should phone Robbie and see if she wants to go on one of our wine and cheese picnics. Maybe one thing will lead to another and… Oops, let it go. Just walk, smell, look, and listen.

I start to notice more stuff that I haven’t looked at in a while, all of it familiar; all of it reminiscent of  the fields and pastures of my childhood home, only twenty minutes away from here. Goldenrod, though no longer gold, waves in the breeze. A striped gopher, our state mascot, scoots across the path and down his hole. A bluejay shrieks. One of those ‘pregnant’ weeds that I’ve never figured out. A common grasshopper flutters by and lands at my feet.

I wonder if I should phone Jim to see if he can meet me for coffee tomorrow. Or maybe I should phone Robbie first. Or maybe just go play racquetball. Oops, let it go. Just walk, smell, look, and listen.

There’s a thistle weed, all silvery and wispy.  Those suckers used to really mess up my sweaters. Clover flowers, still attracting bees. Acorns! We used to spend hours splattering them against tree trunks and fence posts with our slingshots.  Apples from an aging apple tree, scattered about the road. Hey! Road apples, AKA horse apples. I remember my dad telling me he he’d once suggested to the township that they name our road Horse Apple Lane. It didn’t fly.  Man, these (real) apples are good. Lots of blotches on ‘em but juicy and tart.

I wonder if I should do a little cross country skiing here this winter?  Nah, I’d rather snowboard more. I sure hope I can get up to Lutsen this winter. I’d like to improve my… Oops, let it go. Just walk, smell, look, and listen.

Brilliant red sumac. Where it grew thick, we used to crawl around under it and play house. A boulder pushing up through the sod. I could never figure out why I could ride the lawnmower over these damn things with no problem month after month and then one day ka-ching! the blade would grind on the rock and I’d look to see if my dad heard it. Cocklebur. I used to love flicking these lightweight burrs so they’d stick on the neighbor girls’ clothes. Jeez, look at those cattails. That one just exploded.

I’m glad to be making progress on my racquetball backhand this past week. Lots more snap to it.  That slight change in the grip has really helped. I can’t quite figure out why my forehand still sucks, though, but maybe… Oops, let it go. Just walk, smell, look, and listen.

I get to a picnic table and call Robbie on my cell phone to let her know where I am. She’s busy unpacking boxes from our move over a year ago. I notice how much I love the sound of her voice. I tell her and she thanks me sweetly. I ask her if she got the ‘love you’ Twitter message I sent yesterday from my cell phone. She giggles, "Yeah, that was cool!" and I feel like a kid in love asking my girlfriend if she got the note I left on her desk at school.

And that’s how it goes. One minute I’m in the groove, the flow, the zone. A state of relaxed concentration. The next minute I’m either somewhere in the past or out there in the future. If I’m not deliberate about it, if I don’t regularly practice, the noisy thoughts in my head drown out the experience, whether it’s a walk or a racquetball game or a night of lovemaking.

Today’s SOS was pretty damn good.  A long way from Olympic standards, but still, pretty damn good. Maybe next time, if I just practice enough deep breathing and total awareness, I’ll…    Oops, let it go.

And then on Sunday night, I listened to a new American Radioworks broadcast titled What Killed Sergeant Gray? — the story of how some of our U.S. troops are suffering psychological scars because they tortured Iraqi prisoners.

And it brought back two memories for which I still feel some shame.

• I had a pet rabbit when I was about 9 years old. One day, a friend of mine came home with me after school and I showed him my rabbit. The rabbit never moved much — too fat and domesticated I guess — so I gave it a shove. My friend laughed and did likewise. Then I picked it up dropped it from about two feet. More laughter. Then four feet. Hilarious. "My turn!" Higher and higher. "Hey, his eyes are bulging!" I don’t exactly remember how long this went on but the rabbit died in my hands.
• About twenty years ago, our kids’ dog, a small Bichon, growled and snapped at me when I walked by the couch where he was sitting. I reflexively whacked it on the head with my hand and sent it flying into the coffee table, slightly injuring its leg and sending my children into tears of horror.

I wonder whether my dad’s bullying and sometime violent temper contributed to this dark side of me, even though he didn’t physically abuse me? I think it did, though it’s not an excuse.

I wonder what it would take to awaken this dark side of me again, even though I’m really convinced I’ve got my emotional shit together?

One thing I do know: I’m not so far removed from those violent abusive guys.

The Creator’s Thumbprint farm near Nerstrand is hosting a "groundbreaking" event centered on an ecumenical Blessing of the Animals — with as many faith communities represented as wish to participate. For this blessing, people are encouraged to bring their own animal companions to be blessed or simply come and help with the blessing of our resident creatures. We have llamas, goats, sheep, chickens, turkeys, horses, dogs and cats.

It’s a St. Francis of Assisi-related annual event, apparently. But I wonder: if you bring a cat which munches down a farm mouse, will everyone gather round to celebrate nature-in-the-act?  Could local hunters attend for a ‘dress and bless’ ceremony with a deer?

There are also ceremonies for blessing other earth-related stuff like houses. I remember my parents having a living room addition to our house blessed by our local priest.  Not one hour after he left, they had a huge fight over how to arrange the furniture.

And omigodinheaven, even motorcycles are blessed (Blessing of the Bikes). I wonder if the Christian Motorcyclists Association keeps tabs on how many bikers are killed within a year of being blessed? 

For a sane Christian perspective on this practice, see God Bless Those Baptist Sea Monkeys by the Bohemian Baptist.

I’ve made arrangements with Brandon Walker, news director at Carleton College’s radio station, KRLX-FM 88.1, to air the show weekly - tentatively set for Thursday’s at 5:30 pm. Of course, we’ll host the podcast here, with each week’s show/episode posted here in the blog in a Flash player, plus available via a downloadable MP3, an RSS feed, and iTunes.

Joining me to co-host the show: Brendon Etter, chief blogger at A Play A Day & Lysteria.