*A friend of mine recently posted a note of Facebook about how he wanted to let people know that he was struggling. That though he generally posted positive/fun/funny things up there, that he was going through a hard time and just wanted to share that. I thought that was really brave of him. That motivated me to post this ramble that I wrote back in March of 2012. Never shared it with anyone, never meant to, never really edited it, it was just a ramble, but here goes*
On following dreams
There’s something I want to explain.
For anyone who knows me or follows what I’ve been doing for
the past many years, I think the perception is that I’m slowly but surely
following a path that I believe in, pursuing a vision, and that slowly but
surely, this dream is coming true.
I get to play shows all over the world, people are actually coming out
to the shows, singing along, sharing incredible stories with me afterwards, I
don’t work another job, it’s all happening.
I post messages and photos about all the wonderful places I
visit, all the moments, all these little dreams come true. I tell stories from the stage about
doing the things you’ve always wanted to, about being inspired, about hope,
about human beings being beautiful because they’re human, both in triumph and
in failure.
All of the above is true. My life is a collection of moments that are so blessed, so
powerful, so rich. The way that I
get to interact with people, the way that I get to share of myself and have
people share back, the homes I get to stay in and people I get to have meals
with, the stories I get to hear and places I get to see, it’s incredible. So rich.
But I want you to know that there’s another side. Not so you can feel sorry for me or
REALLY see the truth. I’ve been
telling you the truth. I want to
show you the other side so you know that in your own life, you’re not so
different.
Because I know what it’s like to look at someone else’s life
and fill in the gaps. To think
that if only I had what they have, if only I was doing what they were doing, if
only… then I would be happy. I do
that every single day of my life, without fail, I want what I don’t have, I
agonize over it, it torments me.
I play for 150 people halfway across the world, and I knock
myself down because someone else I know played for 300.
I dismiss my successes as coincidences, like I’ve somehow
fooled people, like somehow it’s all a big mistake, I’m not actually good, just
a good salesman or hard worker, but not an artist, not a talent, and that one
day soon that will become clear and it will catch up to me and this will all
fall apart, people will stop coming.
Those are daily thoughts.
But when I was serving tables at the student pub, and I
spilled hot gravy all over me after a shift where I made almost no money
because a table ran off without paying and I had to cover it out of my tips,
and I was out of university, working with students, and I was all of a sudden
the older guy, and I was a musician, but I didn’t really have anything to show
for it and had never toured, and my old manager at the time left me a message
on my phone saying that there was a possibility that I might be able to do a
tour, I cried, right there behind the bar. The thought of doing a tour, an actual tour, playing music
in different cities, that was a dream, in every sense of the word. It seemed like an impossibility, no
path from A to B, it was something I wanted so badly but had no idea how to
make happen.
But, slowly and surely, I started touring, and between my
manager and I, we started calling up places, and sending emails into the dark,
and most were ignored, but eventually, we had a tour, and off I went. And out of 20 shows, there was probably
1 or 2 shows where people actually listened or even came out at all, but it was
amazing. It was a dream come
true. And it was hard, and so
grueling, but it was the first step towards this bigger vision. And then I went on another one, and
then another, and for the first 5 years at least it was mostly pretty rough
shows, not great venues, sound-people who didn’t care or sometimes didn’t even
show up, getting treated with little respect, often empty rooms, playing the
wrong places, etc.
But, slowly and surely, I started getting better shows, and
figuring out the right places to play, and the venues started to know me, and
some people started to know me, and I started making better music, and learning
how to stand on a stage and connect with people, and then on my 6th
or 7th tour, out of 30 shows, maybe only 1 or 2 weren’t great, but
the rest were all solid nights where I got to do my thing (which means: good
sound, nice room with people in it, good vibe in the room, playing my
songs. That’s all).
And then I started going to Europe, and on that first tour I
was the opening act for an emerging star there, and we were playing really nice
venues and there were nice dressing rooms, and dinner and great lights and
sound, and I remember thinking to myself, now if I could play shows like THIS,
then THAT would be a dream come true.
And now it’s 3 years later, and I’ve just come back from
playing shows just like that, with me as the headliner in amazing venues, with
great lights and sound, with a dressing room, and promoters taking good care of
me and hundreds of people showing up, even selling out some shows.
I had one girl tell me after my Amsterdam show that after
attempting suicide twice she had heard my music and it gave her hope and that I
had saved her life. I had someone
else tell me that they were listening to my music in the birthing room of their
child. Stories like this, all the
time, amazing amazing things that people share with me all as a result of
putting these songs out in the world.
And now I just
found out that I’ve been nominated for a Juno, something I never thought I’d
see happen in my life.
But as soon as I find out about it, and have that wave of
excitement, the next feeling is a feeling of fluke, of coincidence, of
dismissal. That somehow there’s been a lucky break, a long list of excuses I
can come up with to not accept it.
There’s the doubt, the insecurity, the self-deprecation.
The feeling that I’m not getting better faster enough, I’m
too business, I’m not artist enough,
I’m only getting somewhere because of hard work not talent,
etc.
I’m not actually living the dream, just flirting with it but
I’ll never get there.
These are the thoughts that dominate.
I’ve been playing music full time without another job for
over 4 years now, and when people ask if I have another job I say no, and that’s
true. And I say but I do have a
lot of support from others, and that’s also true.
My dad helps me pay my rent every month and pays for my car
so I can have a safe car to tour with.
People on my mailing list help me finance my records.
And I have a big line of credit that’s always on the verge
of maxing out.
This thing is not sustainable yet.
And if I really think about it, I’m playing 150+ shows a
year, which means I’m away close to 200 days a year, away from my wife and
friends and family, and I’m only getting older, and how will I be able to keep
up the pace, and I can’t sleep on floors forever can I, and and…
The whole thing hinges on me being able to keep doing that,
on me writing new songs every day, making new albums, always working to make something
out of nothing, it’s all very daunting and scary and uncertain.
And I get so caught up just trying to get from a to b, and
get all the pieces happening, that there’s little time to write and get better
and actually do the things that will give me a long term career, and I know
there’s no excuse for not writing, so I beat myself up, and no excuse for not
practicing guitar, or working on my singing, so I try to do those things , but
I’m not perfect and I get mad at myself, very mad at myself, and overwhelmed,
very overwhelmed.
But…
I am following a dream. I’m doing what I believe in. I’m trying to make something that doesn’t exist yet. There’s no way of doing that other than
banging your head against the wall and trying, sitting down and doing the
work. And there’s no way of
knowing if it’s good, because there’s no definitive opinion on that, and some
are going to like it, and some won’t, but there’s still a standard of quality,
but you don’t know until you put it out there and see what happens. You’re so vulnerable because you’re
trying to make something that doesn’t exist, and it’s from your heart and you
care about it deeply, but no one else has to care about it, they will if it’s
good, if it’s well done, and if you can get it to them.
This is what the dream looks like. It’s all these little moments of amazing, with all these
huge moments of struggle and insecurity and doubt and and and in between. It’s real, because it’s not possible to
walk through life on a cloud. To always be in a state of epiphany, of light.
You always have to wake up the next morning, and go buy groceries, and pay your
heating bill, and figure it out.
Each new level of success you reach brings new complications, new pressures,
more distractions, more need to get better, to see what you still don’t
have. And of course it brings all
these wonderful moments as well.
Michael Berg, the man I wrote forgiveness about, said that
forgiveness is not just this thing you do and then you’ve done it and then you
move on with your life. He said
it’s something you are actively trying to do for the rest of your life. And
that there are good days and bad days, and some days you have to go right back
to the very start. It’s like being an alcoholic. You are always an alcoholic,
but some days you have beat it, and other times you’re on the verge of
collapse, or even there is collapse and you have to start again.
That’s what following your dreams is like. It’s only a choice, it’s not a guarantee of anything. It’s a decision to do what you feel is
important, to do what you’ve always wanted to do, but there will be much
darkness along the way. Probably
even more so because now you have a vision of what you want, which means you
know when you’re not getting it, and that vision is always growing and changing
and every time it comes into reach, it gets further away again. Because you’re not really ever getting
to this final destination, you’re just working along the way to it, with a
purpose but no guarantee.
And in those moments, where the dream goes from a fog to a
clear image, and you’re on that stage, or doing exactly that thing you love in
that moment, that’s all you have.
That moment is all you have.
And then soon you’ll be back to the grind and the next step and the
doubt, and then maybe you’ll have another moment or maybe you won’t.
Those moments of goodness, those are the moments that I
share, that I let people know about, that fill me with so much.
But there are lots of moments in between that you probably
don’t want to hear about. And I
don’t feel sorry for myself, not for a second.
I only want you to know, so that if you feel like you’re
never going to get there, or that that it’s just so hard, then I’m telling you
you’re right, it’s so hard. And I
don’t want you to look at me and think that I have it all figured out, that if
only you had my life, that you would be happy. Not true.
I have one of the greatest lives possible I think, but
there’s more to it than meets the eye.
It’s complicated, there’s much darkness, but the light, is so light, and
so good, that I’ll do anything to keep walking towards it.
Enjoy those little moments of light; work your ass off for
them, because they’re all you’re going to have.
I’m writing this for myself. For me to remember and follow
For me to have perspective.
To remember the vision, stay on course, be present in the
moments of success, and be present in the moments of failure, or struggle, and
let them coexist without cancelling each other out. Just because I had a bad day where I didn’t do the things I
wanted to do, or where someone hated my music, doesn’t mean I didn’t have a day
where I spent the whole day writing a new song, or where someone loved what I
do and it really mattered in their life.
There’s always going to be that duality.
How am I going to deal with that and keep moving forward,
that’s what I have control over.
