Post no. 3: My friends are annoyed that I’m forcing them to come to my concert.
What a juicy thought.
Yesterday I held a little Saturday morning coffee session at my studio. It’s another part of this project: to go back to what playing music really is — serving. As I had been avoiding going to my studio or playing music for days, it was a good push. On Friday I cleaned up and went through some old songs and just tried to allow things to come. Trying not to try to impress anybody.
Another artist-friend said, this concert is your Hollywood Bowl, this is your headline performance at Primavera.
I should feel as proud of my workspace concert as playing at a legendary venue, and as ordinary about headlining a big festival as performing for some friends.
There really should be no difference. I should not think about any performance as a step to something else. There is no destination, and thus there is no journey. Everything simply is.
There is so much wisdom in that thought, for a second I need to stop writing.
Another question arises: what does serving then mean?
For me, it means creating an athmosphere with your own presence and staying there so others can join in as soon as they feel comfortable. But that’s hard. I mean really, really hard. It’s hard to stay grounded in your own vibe when people come with all their emotions, hesitations, expectations, past annoyances and future stresses.
And the paradox is that the harder you try, the less you’ll be able to find it. You cannot force yourself into presence. You can only allow it to come.
So yesterday I (again) realised I’m so sensitive. I feel everything around me. Everybody around me. I want so bad to be good. I’m putting a ridiculously huge pressure on myself. I will never be able to please everybody. And I can never take responsibility for others’ emotions. The only thing I can do is be peaceful in my own presence.
But you asked them to come. Don’t waste their time. You better make it worth it. You better prove them that you have a right to be an artist.
Wow.
Just wow.
The concert went well. People cried. They smiled. Two kids in the audience draw beautiful pictures of my songs. Everyone seemed happy that they came. Nobody was annoyed I forced or cheated them to come.
It was a good lesson. How to stand in my own light? How to stand in my own energy in a way I can carry the whole room, let it be a tiny studio or a huge arena?
Once I figure that out this project has already made sense.
So why is my first thought I’m wasting my audience’s time?
Why do I think I got something to prove, someone to convince?
Why is it so hard to accept somebody might find refuge in my music?
Why is it so hard to just openly do my thing without any expectations?
It’s becoming clear I need to dive even deeper with my music into serving myself first. Only then can I invite people to visit and let them decide for themselves whether it’s something that heals and energises them.
The only problem is that it feels an impossible task. To find that love, strength, courage, acceptance and allowance in me and stay so strongly and openly in it I’m able to invite others for that visit.
I know the technical side is there already. This is not a skill-thing (though there’s always room to develop, no doubt). This is more about peeling off everything that’s not necessary. Like a sculptor brings his art alive by carving off what is not needed.
What is not serving me in my singing and playing?
What is not serving me in my thinking?
What is not serving me in the way I am?
When I leave everything unnecessary out of my music, of my energy, of my life, what is left will shine brighter and warmer than ever.
I don’t know why, but I’m intimidated by that thought.
Yet intimidated or not, from that point of view, maybe this is not that impossible. Maybe it’s actually impossible to go on without doing this. Maybe that’s the whole point of this project. To peel off what’s unnecessary and see what’s left. What’s behind the invisible walls I’ve built around me to protect truest myself.
Instead of impossible this is imperative.
