Last Wednesday, January 18, a friend texted to say, “I guess you heard that David Crosby died today.” For some reason, I had not.
I’ve been waiting for this one. For the past few years, Crosby has mentioned death in interview after interview. From his diabetes to his damaged health from years of drug abuse to his liver transplant, Crosby’s health had pretty much set him up for failure as a continuing-to-live human being. Yet he defied death until last week. “David Crosby dead at 81,” headline after headline announced. It was a good run.
David Crosby was one of the most talented people on earth. His voice was beautiful, his ability to find a harmony, unmatched. He heard chords on his guitar that no one else imagined. The people who admired him hired him to sing on their recordings.
Sadly, the people he should have loved the most, Graham Nash and Stephen Stills, were the most frustrated with him. The three of them formed the first “super group” in rock music, Crosby, Stills, and Nash. From 1968 until about 2016, the three of them in various mixtures, and solo, and together, made some of the most memorable music of any generation. They combined folk, rock, jazz, and country sounds and put together harmonies that had never been heard before. But they had one problem, and it was their undoing: all three of them, along with sometimes-partner Neil Young, had egos that they never thought to tame.
An ego can be a great defense mechanism, used correctly. It can also, as in this case, destroy good relationships. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young have been as destructive to their own careers as they have been creative in their various outings together.
Those of us who are fans have wished this selfishness would end, that they would one day mature and look beyond their narcissism to make more and more wonderful music. That’s what they have been doing since the end in 2016. They found others with whom to play and who would worship them. Crosby himself was amazingly creative at the end of his life. Stills shows up all over the place with his admiring musician/fans. Nash tours with one other person, making his own brand of beautiful music.
Friendships and families end sometimes. Whose fault it is cannot always be determined. Depending on the egos involved, the fault can always lie with someone other than myself. If Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young had ever learned to quit living out their relationships like the spoiled children they turned into, what a world of music would exist!
As to you, David Cortlandt Crosby, your life was lived hard. You made some incredibly memorable, beautiful music. Thank you for all the good stuff.
About jamiebrame
Greetings, fellow earthlings. I'm the retired Program Director at Christmount, the national retreat, camp, and conference center of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), in Black Mountain, NC. From September 2019 through October, 2020, I served Timberlake Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, VA, as interim minister. After taking more than a year off, First Christian Church (DoC), Wilson, NC, offered me the position of Interim Minister, beginning May 10, 2022.
Originally from Eden, NC, I graduated from John Motley Morehead High School, earned a BA in Religion and Philosophy at Atlantic Christian College (now Barton College), and eked out a Master of Divinity from the Divinity School at Duke University. I served, in various positions, churches (part time and full time) in North Carolina and Georgia, and have lived in Black Mountain, NC, since 1989. I married Renae in 1992 (she refers to these years as "looooooooooong" years.
I've spent the past 50 years or so trying to practice Christian contemplative prayer with some touches of Zen meditation to help the journey along. Married to a wife who is much holier than I am, I am fortunate to learn from her daily about how to do this thing called spirituality. Being an ordained minister doesn't make me holy (but occasionally, as you'll read, a little sanctimonious, so forgive me in advance!); but I hope that I put my education to good use.
I'd love to be considered a spiritual teacher, but I know myself too well to claim that. While I do a bit of teaching, I think the best teaching we do is when we remain silent (the old desert abba said something like, "if you won't learn from my silence, you won't learn from my talking"). But silence shouldn't turn into quietism, and we do have to speak out and act for justice and fairness and equality for all.
I frequently ask myself the question, "Does it matter?" about the major - and minor - issues of the day. What I think matters: love for God, equality, fairness, loving our neighbor, feeding hungry people, housing homeless ones, clothing naked ones, and especially caring for children; basically, caring for those who have some trouble caring for themselves. AND our relationship with God.
What doesn't matter: what you think of me. I'm not very Christ-like. You won't hear me talking about all the things I do for others, or all the things I do for God - I was taught that It's not about me, and using good works to get attention for myself isn't what Christian faith is about - look up "narcissism" on Google. I'm not sure Jesus thinks it matters much that I am like him or not, but I do. The old story from the rabbis is probably apropo: when I am hauled up before God at the end of time, God isn't going to ask me why I wasn't more like someone else: I will be asked why I wasn't more like me. The rabbis tell the story better.
I'm still a work in progress, as Renae will attest to.
Finally, I just hope that something you read here will make you think. Use what you can, ignore the rest. Go read some of the desert saints. Read the classics. Take care of people, never point to yourself, and don't follow me: I'm just hoping to be one more signpost to God.
And as one friend reminded me the week before I left Christmount, "It matters."
Oh, and my favorite color is probably blue, and I love cats, and I love my wife's music. I don't like beets.
Does It Matter 