This marks the 100th episode of Contemplify. We celebrate the triple digit with a musing and an announcement.

A contemplative musing on machines, lifeblood, and facing the facts of life.  Visit contemplify.com for more shenanigans  

Scott Ballew is songwriter from Austin, Texas. He earns his keep as the Head of Films and Commercials at YETI, producing and directing films that inspire a life well-lived. During the pandemic, Scott dusted off his guitar and got to writing songs, polishing them, and then to his own surprise, releasing an album out into the wild. Scott Ballew’s first album is called Talking to Mountains. In our conversation we talk about the genesis of his album, the relationship between sobriety and creativity, the entanglement of humor and sadness, how legendary Texan songwriter Terry Allen helped form Scott’s artistic backbone, the perennial life questions that have been peppering him throughout his entire life and a good deal more. You can listen to Scott Ballew’s album Talking to Mountains on all the streaming services or head over to leisurerodeo.com to get your mitts on a cassette or an LP. And you read that right, that’s leisurerodeo.com.

There is so much I can say about the poet and essayist Leah Purpura. I’ll give this brief introduction, Lia was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, the writer in residence at the University of Maryland, and has been published in all the notable places. I read her two most recent works, It Shouldn’t Have Been Beautiful, a book of poems, and All the Fierce Tethers, a book of essays, and was graced by her mastery of language and reverence for the awe and wonder in the details. Our conversation does not disappoint, Lia is wise, poetic, and enjoys the same teeter totter I do; playful with serious matters and serious about playful matters, balanced on the fulcrum of loving presence.

Jeffrey Foucault is a top shelf songwriter. Foucault has a slew of albums worth your collection and his latest album, Deadstock, should be the first one you pick up. Deadstock has been a real good friend to me in the ups and downs of this season. Foucault’s music makes a grown man like me swoon, sway, and slyly sing his lyrics to myself. This is the type of music that keeps me sane and holds my heart in communion with the whole heartbreaking human family.  Our conversation holds the tenor of two respectful Midwesterners holding court while a storm blows in. A storm was coming to blanket Jeffrey’s place with feet of snow while I was sitting easy in the desert with pints of coffee peppering him with questions about literary influences like Jim Harrison and Barry Lopez, crafting an album, humor, Greg Brown, Chris Dombrowksi, fishing, and why poetry belongs in bars. These themes and much more built a trellis of conversation to cover us from the winter storm and desert heat. Doesn’t get much better than this for me folks, a real banquet of stories told with a lot of humor, humility, and generosity.  Check out Jeffrey Foucault’s music and newsletter at jeffreyfoucault.com. Buy Deadstock, thank me now. Sign up for his newsletter, my favorite monthly missive (and that includes my own offering).

Andrew Krivak is the author of three novels: The Signal Flame (2017), a Chautauqua Prize finalist, and The Sojourn (2011), a National Book Award finalist and winner of both the Chautauqua Prize and the Dayton Literary Peace Prize for fiction, and his latest novel, The Bear. In our conversation you hear of Andrew’s formation as a Jesuit, our dwelling in the depth dimension of now, how his novel The Bear relates to that dimension and is also a manifesto against interiority, and so much more. Friends, I read The Bear and found it to be an incredibly moving novel about place, presence, courage and strength in uncertain times. And let’s face it, all times are uncertain. I have bought, loaned, recommended The Bear to countless people. After this conversation you will understand why. Visit Contemplify.com to learn more.

Fred Bahnson is an immersion journalist of the soul and one of my favorite public contemplative intellectuals. If you’ve been hanging out around Contemplify, you have likely heard his name or seen links to his work. And I am sure that won’t be changing anytime soon. His most recent piece appears in Harper’s Magazine and is called ‘The Gate of Heaven is Everywhere’. It charts the contemplative turning in our times with gusto, charm, and sustained attention to the deep roots of the Christian contemplative tradition. Check it out, you’ll dig it.  Much of our conversation plunges into Fred’s book, Soil and Sacrament which is a record of a pilgrimage of depth across the topsoil of sundry landscapes. Bahnson traverses through community gardens (Christian & Jewish), a Bennedictine monastery, and communal subsistence farming in Mexico. Within these pages, The incarnational questions I always walk around with in the back pocket of my heart echo throughout - how then shall I live? How then shall we live? 

Beverly Lanzetta is a profound teacher who invites her readers and students to engage in the fullness of Mystery each day through the cultivation of practice and rhythm. I was elated to get my mitts on her latest book A New Silence: Spiritual Practices and Formation for the Monk Within. Our conversation flows out of this work, we talk about contemplation rhythms, parenting, the archetype of the monk, the via feminia and so much more. Reflecting on A New Silence makes up the bulk of our conversation today, but I want to really emphasize how A New Silence provides many exercises and practical ways of moving into a monastic way of life. A New Silence is for any seeker who hears the call to a contemplative path in their own context.

I’m closing this Advent Series out with some poetic gifts. A few friends are stopping by to raise a glass and offer a poem or prayer, though I am unsure of the difference anymore. In this final Advent outpost, the Mystery is stirred by a couple of my favorite poets, Teddy Macker and then Todd Davis, before contemplative teacher Beverly Lanzetta brings us home with a prayer. Like I said, prayers and poems dip from the same well. Join us as we take our fill. Visit Contemplify.com

I’ve asked some friends to swing by and offer a few words. In this second Advent outpost, we move throuogh the course of a day, from dawn to dusk. one of my favorite poets, Chris Dombrowski, kicks us off with a dawn poem from his book Ragged Anthem. I have some words on attention for the life of a day. And artist Jonathon Stalls leads us on a sunset walking meditation to round us out. So lace up and stretch those limbs or roll those wheels to this second Advent outpost.  Check out Chris Dombrowski’s work at cdombrowski.com Check out Jonathon Stalls’ work at intrinsicpaths.com Visit Contemplify.com