Dear Batholomew et al,

I think you've nailed it, especially with regard to the relationship between truth and creativity -- the wonderful dynamic that is so much apart of any earnest voyage of self-discovery.

I love the little sermon Arlo Guthrie preaches in the middle of Amazing Grace on the Precious Friends CD. He's paraphrasing Lee Hays and says something like, "It was Lee who taught me that first you've got to do for yourself what you want to for the rest of the world."

It's a telling comment because it implies that truth and goodness, which are close to the same thing, are not group activities. And that true honesty involves mastery of the rather painful art of relating to one another as individuals.

That's why political and corporate promises ring hollow generally, and why collectivist thoeries of government seem especially apt to breed the very sorts of oppression their proponents wish to amend. The truth that matters is the truth one tells while looking one other person straight in the eye. Anyone who's ever played music in front of an audience knows this.

It may sound pollyannaish, but it has been my experience that people who are really honest with themselves aren't very conflicted when it comes to saying and doing the right thing, even when faced with tough moral choices.

Look at it this way (at least those of you who are people of faith): Does God ever lie? I don't believe so. On the other hand, does He (or She) torture us with revelations we cannot bear or comprehend? Again, I personally think not, though there will be those who disagree.

In any event, when we're communicating difficult truths to someone under our authority, or who depends on us for their well-being, or who is our friend, or our lover, or who wants to hurt us or ask us for something we cannot give because it will harm them, are we not -- in a small way -- in the same boat with God? Isn't that what being created in the divine image really means?

The ideal here is not mere (as you Brits would say) truth but truth tempered with wisdom. Surely that is hardly the same as telling a lie, even a kind one.

Think of it like this: Why do many of us (though I'm sure not all) dislike most kinds of mainstream pop music? Because it's inherently wicked? Because it's badly played? Because the musicians have no skill or talent? Because making music for money is evil?

None of these assumptions hold water in a literal sense. Rather we dislike such music because we perceive it to be dishonest. Even little kids can tell the difference between commercial ear candy and songs that genuinely minister to the human spirit – at least until they become teenagers and by definition temporarily insane!

Sorry to have gone on so, but this is a huge question and one that speaks to the heart of what playing, singing and listening to folk music should be about.

Yours Yingily and Yangily Tony