Saturday, January 31, 1998

New Age meets Old West in singer-songwriter Church Pyle

By Diane Samms Rush / Knight Ridder Newspapers

The family joke is that a young Chuck Pyle asked his dad to explain a statue in church.

"That's for the men who died in the service," his dad replied, with pride typical of the post-war 1950s.

"The 9 o'clock service or the 10:30 service?" queried the child.

Thus ended Pyle's parents' insistence that he attend Sunday school during the period when he describes his family as "nomadic Protestants we moved around, and we'd go to any church, as long as it was Protestant."

Pyle traces his cynicism about religion back to those Sunday school days. "It wasn't fashionable for God to be forgiving back then," he said in a recent telephone call from his home in Boulder, Colo.

Only years later, in the context of 12-step meetings, did Pyle, a songwriter and singer recovering from addictions, learn that "religion is one thing and spirituality is another."

It's the same journey many of his contemporaries have taken. But

because he is a performer who shares his philosophy of life on the stage, he was dubbed the Zen Cowboy by a newspaper reporter, and the nickname stuck.

An Aquarian, born Jan. 24, 1945, Pyle is a child of the Cold War '50s and the politically and socially turbulent '60s.

He is one of those rare people who has done what he wants with his life, writing songs and performing throughout the United States and in northern Europe.

"I lived my dream not always in style," Pyle said.

He was in a tough spot in his life, economically, when a singer named Chris LeDoux took a song he wrote in 1981 to the top of the country charts a decade later.

The song was "Cadillac Cowboy." Pyle wrote it as "Other Side of the Hill," and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Suzy Bogguss had recorded it under its original name.

"That bought more than snow tires," Pyle said of the song royalties he collected.

Other rough points in Pyle's life were tied to addictions. "I've been in the ditches," he said. Hence his introduction to 12-step meetings and a new way of thinking.

"How would you know how smooth the road is if you haven't been in the ditches?" he queried.

Twelve-step methodologies are "the most accessible spirituality I've ever seen," he said. "People in recovery have such a positive outlook on life. A 12-step program is kind of like a monastery; you get taught living skills."

His only regret is that other addicts -- those addicted to work, food, time and relationships -- haven't been exposed to the insights of 12-step programs because their addictions are socially acceptable, especially the workaholics.

In his recovery, Pyle said "I took myself out of the rider's seat and put myself in the driver's seat." In other words, he began to take responsibility for his life and his actions.

"Pain is not a choice," Pyle said. "Life has ups and downs. But suffering over it is a choice. You can either dwell on your pain or put it in your past and escape into the next best thing."

For Pyle, things have gotten better and better. In addition to his 120 to 150 live shows a year, including many in Unity churches, he has planned a busy 1998.

This week, he wrapped up his fifth CD, "Keeping Time by the River," which includes guest spots by Jackson Browne, Jerry Jeff Walker, Tim and Mollie O'Brien, Tish Hinajosa and Guy Clark.

Other projects for the year are a quote book titled "The Zen Cowboy Book of Wisdom," a Christmas album titled "Acoustic and Western Christmas" and a performance video.

If there's time, he wants to polish his one-man theater piece, "Zen Gallon Hat (A One-Fact Play)." The fact is, "some things must be believed in order to be seen," and the play's characters are a Zen master and an old cowboy, both played by himself. (His head is shaved, giving him a monkish look, and a cowboy hat transforms him into a buckaroo.)

Between songs, the two characters exchange the same wisdom in different terms. For example, the Zen master says, "There is no place where we arrive at which we may remain," and the cowboy says "Life's a trail, not a camp." Or the master says, "We are one universal mind, expressing in form, looking back upon ourselves with a trillion pairs of eyes," and the old cowboy says, "We're all just each other with different faces."

In 1999, Pyle plans to take a break from performing and projects to end the millennium with new skills.

"I want to learn to play piano and penny whistle," he said, each for a different reason. The piano, he said, is the instrument, the composition instrument, and the penny whistle intrigues him for "the great character it lends to nature. It makes me think I can see an elf jump out from behind a big toadstool."

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(c) 1998, The Wichita Eagle (Wichita, Kan.).

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