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Notes to myself
Mar. 16th, 2002 05:10 pmThis is silly, making entries to myself. But I feel this and it's there.
It's a lovely end to a pretty cloudy day-- the clouds began dissolving a couple of hours ago. I've done my chores, picked up my groceries, worked out, showered, and the coffee-maker is perking. In the willow-tree across the way, there's a large nest. I'll as Bob or Diana the next time I see them what kind it is.
Sometimes I'm really hyper. I know that. and to some people I'm overbearing. Not just because some people see me that way, but because I just act that way towards some people. It's hard to take, but it's true enough. Again, not sure what to do about it except keep a firm hand on the potentiometer, and try to dial it down a knotch or two depending on who I'm around.
Something else now, this is new. The other night the session guys were very positive in their feedback with me, and Don, the harmonica guy, actually called yesterday to refer me to a gig he wanted me to take. "I liked what you did up there, " he said, "You're pretty fearless." Very nice of him, but it made me feel weird. Fearless.
Well, onstage, maybe. It doesn't take that much out of me to put myself out there, or to roll with the crowd (or lack thereof). But it made me a little uncomfortable because that's a good personality to have onstage, but not in other areas of your life. This concern might have something to do with a desire to be taken seriously, or just a longing for the kinds of conversations my old college friend used to call 'Heavy Deep and Real.'; you know, where you share your true feelings, and talk about stuff that *really* matters, Dig Down Deep, whatever you call it. At first I was afraid that those deep and complex feelings would go away, but now I'm pretty sure they don't, you just forget how to deal with them. People forget all the time, but they're important.
So great, I can talk the Deep Talk, and no one wants to get that deep, and I can talk banter and jokes, and that's not always the answer either. What I have trouble with is the in-between, the sitting there saying nothing while people go on about hockey scores and what went wrong with Enron and Osama Bin Laden. I don't care. But that's not the point.
The point is that guy's comment made me uncomfortable because what I get a lot of positive feedback on--that is, what I've been able to do well--isn't enough, and I know it.
Attachment. Detachment. The more I go along this musical path the more comfortable I am in it, and also the less it seems to be, well, Important. That sounds odd, but what I mean is, there is less striving as you reach the hilltop. It's not a Dream anymore. When it's real, the dream dies. It has to, or you're just fooling with the controls. You have to live it--it has to be everyday, like your mate. Nothing Special, in the Buddhist sense. For along time the prospect of coming to this point was a scary thing. Now, it feels comfortable. I mean, the dress in the store is new and exciting and you love it when you buy it, but if you've done your homework and the garment fits, then years later you're slipping into it automatically, and it's not exciting anymore, but it doesn't have to be; it's good.
Maybe in awhile this energy thing won't be an issue. But I do know when I get up on stage tomorrow it won't work to be all Zen, except in the 'right effort' sense. :)
It's a lovely end to a pretty cloudy day-- the clouds began dissolving a couple of hours ago. I've done my chores, picked up my groceries, worked out, showered, and the coffee-maker is perking. In the willow-tree across the way, there's a large nest. I'll as Bob or Diana the next time I see them what kind it is.
Sometimes I'm really hyper. I know that. and to some people I'm overbearing. Not just because some people see me that way, but because I just act that way towards some people. It's hard to take, but it's true enough. Again, not sure what to do about it except keep a firm hand on the potentiometer, and try to dial it down a knotch or two depending on who I'm around.
Something else now, this is new. The other night the session guys were very positive in their feedback with me, and Don, the harmonica guy, actually called yesterday to refer me to a gig he wanted me to take. "I liked what you did up there, " he said, "You're pretty fearless." Very nice of him, but it made me feel weird. Fearless.
Well, onstage, maybe. It doesn't take that much out of me to put myself out there, or to roll with the crowd (or lack thereof). But it made me a little uncomfortable because that's a good personality to have onstage, but not in other areas of your life. This concern might have something to do with a desire to be taken seriously, or just a longing for the kinds of conversations my old college friend used to call 'Heavy Deep and Real.'; you know, where you share your true feelings, and talk about stuff that *really* matters, Dig Down Deep, whatever you call it. At first I was afraid that those deep and complex feelings would go away, but now I'm pretty sure they don't, you just forget how to deal with them. People forget all the time, but they're important.
So great, I can talk the Deep Talk, and no one wants to get that deep, and I can talk banter and jokes, and that's not always the answer either. What I have trouble with is the in-between, the sitting there saying nothing while people go on about hockey scores and what went wrong with Enron and Osama Bin Laden. I don't care. But that's not the point.
The point is that guy's comment made me uncomfortable because what I get a lot of positive feedback on--that is, what I've been able to do well--isn't enough, and I know it.
Attachment. Detachment. The more I go along this musical path the more comfortable I am in it, and also the less it seems to be, well, Important. That sounds odd, but what I mean is, there is less striving as you reach the hilltop. It's not a Dream anymore. When it's real, the dream dies. It has to, or you're just fooling with the controls. You have to live it--it has to be everyday, like your mate. Nothing Special, in the Buddhist sense. For along time the prospect of coming to this point was a scary thing. Now, it feels comfortable. I mean, the dress in the store is new and exciting and you love it when you buy it, but if you've done your homework and the garment fits, then years later you're slipping into it automatically, and it's not exciting anymore, but it doesn't have to be; it's good.
Maybe in awhile this energy thing won't be an issue. But I do know when I get up on stage tomorrow it won't work to be all Zen, except in the 'right effort' sense. :)
