On Friday night, my husband and I were at this little local “hole in the wall” restaurant. (Are you sensing a theme here? Wow, this writer and her husband really love those “hole in the wall” places and let’s take another guess. . . . they then went home and watched another episode of whatever “violence, gore and sex” Netflix series they are currently addicted to – and she has the nerve to write about these things, as if that is interesting) Anyway, there was a singer there who was my absolute favorite kind of restaurant entertainment. He was unobtrusive, yet you found yourself singing along to his melodies. The singer added his own twists to the very famous songs that he was covering, but he didn’t butcher them. He was so emotionally involved in what he was doing, he was fun to watch, yet he didn’t beg for your attention. You could talk to your dinner mate or you could engage in his music and either way it was good. He also introduced me to my new favorite song, Jack Johnson’s “Better Together”, which I promptly came home and downloaded to my old-fashioned iPod. (enter my kids’ groans – Mom, you still use your iPod?!?)
Watching the singer, singing his melodies, happily and evidently, for no other real reason than the pure joy of it, (this was not a big venue) reminded my of a line in a book that I just finished reading. The book is called How To Walk Away by Katherine Center and it is all about the cataclysmic changes a young woman goes through in her life, when she tragically loses her ability to walk in a devastating accident. The main character in the book was a talented singer and always loved to sing before the accident. After the accident, the main character’s sister is desperate to get her depressed, paraplegic sister to sing again. The sister tells of reading an article that said if we don’t use our God given talents, if we don’t foster our passions, then our life can just collapse in on itself, much like a black hole.
Watching the singer at the restaurant, doing his thing, makes me believe that statement. Our particular joys and interests and talents and proclivities seem to have a way to pop out of our beings, even if we try to squelch them. How many would-be artists have pages of work memos and school papers, bordered in doodles? How many athletes are always physically moving and fidgeting, their bodies humming, always looking for an excuse to spring up into some kind of kinetic action?
I think what is sometimes tragic is that we seem to get confused that we have to make a living at what we love to do. I am sure that the restaurant singer, who was donning one of those rubbery wedding bands that a lot of the hipster men seem to wear these days, obviously had other responsibilities and he wasn’t likely supporting himself or his family members, with his gigs in teeny “hole in the wall” restaurants. Yet, his musical gift, the gift that was implanted in his very own DNA has to find its outlet, some way, somewhere, otherwise I suppose that it is possible, that his life could collapse, in on itself. That, or he could remain a shell of himself, a zombie living out a life that is constantly blowing out that very flame of passion, burning inside of him.
My guess of why some of us do everything that we can to squelch our own inner passions to the point of sometimes forgetting what they are, is that we don’t understand that even just a little release of these talents into the world, keeps the flame glowing steadily. I think that maybe sometimes we are afraid that if we let the light shine, it might overtake us and overtake our whole lives, until we are uncontrollable, raging wild fires. We don’t understand that there is a lot of real, sustainable life available to us in between gaping black holes and turbulent infernos.
When people are trying to find their way back to their talents – those passions that make them feel alive, it is often said to look back at what you loved to do as a child. What made you lose time when you were an uninhibited, spontaneous, “full of yourself” kid? What special traits of yours seem to pop out, into your adult life, despite you trying to keep them contained in a box on a shelf? Are you doodling in the borders? Are you writing long, flowery paragraphs in response emails sent to coworkers or your kids’ teachers? Are you showing random kids playing in the street, how to dynamically kick a soccer ball? Maybe take a chance of fanning your own inner flames. You, and the rest of us, will only benefit for it.