July 10 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 191 – My Divorce

Today, I’m grateful for my divorce.  

Not in the stereotypical “got rid of the old ball and chain” kind of way. I’m grateful for the experience, because it taught me something valuable. But I’m not glad it happened. It wasn’t my idea and it was an awful experience. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But time heals and on July 10^th, it had been final for 1 year. It is what it is.

Even while it was happening, I knew that I would eventually be grateful.

I decided in my early 20s that I was never going to get married. I can’t tell you how many friends of mine I saw go from that blissful, “I’ll never even look at another woman” state, into joyous marriage, into second thoughts, into rude awakening, into painful regret, into unpleasant, “I hate you” divorce, into the dividing of the previously-celebratory friends to opposing camps, and finally settling into the “my ex-wife, the ultimate B****!” state. And usually within two years! After the fifth or sixth one in a row, it was pretty clear to me that marriage, whatever it was, wasn’t the fantasy life it was made out to be, and I wanted no part of it. “Never,” I said. “Ever!”

Even my parents’ marriage, which lasted over 50 years, contributed towards my reluctance.  They loved each other, but they had allowed routine to become the dominant force in their relationship.  Dad settled into his ways and Mom didn’t want to stir up trouble, so she reluctantly settled into her role. They took each other for granted. I knew that they cared for each other, but it wasn’t inspiring.

I never really dated that much. I was probably too shy. It seemed to be a cyclical thing for me – either I was in a relationship or I wasn’t.

I had several committed relationships before finally getting married at 47, and they were all good ones. But when the time came to part, no matter how it happened, it was hard.  With one exception, I was always the last one standing, the one willing to give it one more shot.  It was probably a charming mixture of loyalty, insecurity and attachment, with a smidge of stupidity thrown in.

Time was required for healing, but there was never a “I hate you!” stage.  There was, however, a “I need some space” stage. In every case, though, I eventually healed. And in every case, I am on good terms with my “ex.” It just never made sense to me to hate someone that I once was in love with. Better to channel that love into something else. So we became friends.

One core belief I have that has helped me get through breakups and other difficult experiences is that there is always a gift. Always! Even in the worst experience ever. It was sometimes hard to find, especially when the emotions were still raw, but knowing it was there always helped me, because I looked for it. And that shift of attention moved me back a little from the white hot heat of the pain of parting. Knowing there was a gift moved me closer to gratitude, because it allowed me to expect the gift.

Something else that helped a lot was learning to forgive. Whatever happened is in the past. Better to let it go and move on.

Of course, I can only speak for myself, but because friendships always emerged, I imagine my former partners went through their own version of this process.

But my divorce was a bigger test than any of these. I had finally gotten over my fear of marriage and taken the plunge. I had finally gotten to the place where I no longer believed marriage was doomed to failure. I was convinced that we would grow old together. I was in for life.

I still don’t know what happened. Too much stress took our attention away from Love, I guess. Our marriage lasted a little over 18 years, though we were together only 16 1/2 of it. Still, that was three times as long as any other relationship I’ve been in. And there was easily three times the lessons. And three times the blessings, as well.

Years earlier, during another difficult time, we had talked about the possibility of parting. At that time, we agreed that, if it ever came to that, it was important to do it with as much love as we could manage. Otherwise, there would be things left to deal with. Better to part clean. Divorce, I think, is never an easy thing, but that commitment made it less painful than it otherwise would have been.

So I’m grateful for my divorce because it taught me so much. There were lessons in patience, in compassion, in unconditional Love, in forgiveness, in gratitude, in surrender, and a great deal more. I’m grateful for all of that. I’m grateful for the support of friends as I went through this difficult challenge. I’m also grateful for the constant inner help I got. And I’m especially glad to have Deb’s friendship. That means a lot…

     

July 9 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 190 – My Performance At Jungle Red

Today I am grateful for my performance at Jungle Red.

My friend, Lois Stanfield, an excellent visual artist, had an upcoming opening at Jungle Red in downtown Minneapolis. Jungle Red is an art gallery, combined with a salon, combined with a spa. (I think of it as a spalonery…) They have a big monthly event, called Rhythm and Red, that pairs a featured artist, like Lois, with a featured musician. Lois invited me to be the featured musician. The event was scheduled for two hours.

With a couple of minor exceptions, I had not performed more than a few songs at a time in public for almost 10 years, so as I’m rebuilding my music career, this was an opportunity to get back into the saddle, so to speak. I practiced everyday for several weeks, arranging old songs, learning new ones, and generally getting them ready to perform live. As any performer will tell you, playing a song on a stage, through a sound system, to a live audience, is very different from playing in the comfort and privacy of your living room.

I borrowed a PA from my friend Marc and planned to leave in plenty of time to get to Jungle Red and get set up before the gig. The trip from the western suburbs is about 25 minutes or so. I left at 5:30, to arrive by 6:00 and start at 7:00. It was rush hour, but I figured that since everyone was leaving the city, the traffic going in would be about normal. Not so much. Turns out that Minneapolis uses a “Universal Gridlock” plan for their rush hours, so that no matter where you are going, it takes forever and a day to get there.

I arrived at Jungle Red about 6:45 and launched into emergency mode — load in, set up, test the system, change clothes, and start my first song, all in under 15 minutes! Yeah, that would have been great, but in reality, I got started about 7:20.

The art reception, which was behind me, was in full swing. Lots of people (a lot more than usual, I later found out), drinking wine, talking to Lois, commenting on her gorgeous art, discussing the issues of the day, etc… Very loud! I kicked it off with a couple of originals, followed by a Beatles’ tune (because people like to hear the familiar sometimes).

A note about performance venues. For me, there is no better place to play than in front of an audience who is there for no other reason than to hear me sing and play. As a songwriter, I have something to say, and in a concert venue, where everyone has come to hear what that is, there is very little distraction. People are quiet, respectful, attentive… That’s the ideal for me. But, of course, not every performance venue is like that.

There are many reasons why people come to where live music is being performed and most of them are not related to the music – dancing, drinking, socializing; and in this case, to support a visual artist.  So naturally, with all those other reasons, less attention is on the music. This is not a bad thing. It’s just how it is. People have different priorities. But it changes the dynamic of the performance, because the noise level goes up.

In the past, when I played loud venues, I tended to do one of two things. In the early days, when I had a band, we just turned up the volume. No matter how loud the crowd got, we could get louder because we had amplifiers. And they went to 11. When I was much younger, this was a viable solution. Loud was good. But as I began doing more solo work, that was no longer a good option. I could still turn up, but since I was playing acoustic music with a softer edge, it defeated the whole purpose. So instead, I would take my attention off the audience, retreat inside, and just get it over with. I believed that no one was listening anyway, so why bother? It wasn’t very satisfying, but at least I was getting paid. In those cases, it was a job and nothing more.

But at my Jungle Red performance, something changed. It was so loud that I could barely hear myself. But I knew I could no longer use those old options. I had to stay connected with the audience, open-hearted and available, whether I thought they were listening or not. Besides, I had no way to know who was or was not listening. So I chose to believe someone was listening and I played to them, wherever they were. I gave them all I had and before too long, I started to notice people who clearly were listening.

Afterwards, quite a few people came up to me to express how much they had enjoyed the music. A few of these I had noticed listening, but most I had not. I started to realize that the Love and enthusiasm expressed in a performance is even more important than the music itself. I remembered a moment of clarity I had many years ago, when I was playing for a group of dementia patients, when one of them told me it didn’t matter what I played, because they were just there for the Love.

Maybe that’s what we’re all here for.

So I’m grateful for my Jungle Red performance, because it reminded me what the most important part of performing is. I’m grateful to Lois, for inviting me to play. And to Jungle Red, for hosting the event. And I’m also grateful for those who listen, especially for the Love.

July 8 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 189 – Unexplained Mysteries

Today I am grateful for unexplained mysteries.

I’ve been curious about this stuff since I was a teenager. I read a book about UFOs and then another book on unexplained mysteries that had a section on UFOs. After I read the UFO section, I started looking at the other stuff and became fascinated. Apparently, there was a lot I didn’t understand that didn’t fit into the box I grew up with.

I also found it fascinating how some people would go to great lengths in attempt to demystify these unexplained mysteries, to explain them a logical way, to fit them into a frame of reference they could understand. I guess it was just too disturbing for things to be out of the box.

But I was more interested in what was revealed about the box — that it was far bigger than I had realized. It was begging to be explored and I was growing more and more curious. My search to understand the mysteries of life had begun…

I plowed through more books on the unexplained — pyramids, UFOs, the Bermuda Triangle, Bigfoot, Atlantis, and the like — looking for answers. I found a whole lot more that was unexplained and realized that I had been living in a very small world.

Eventually the search came around to the really big questions — Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? Where does all of this lead? And so on.

All of this seeking uncovered answers, but it also raised more questions. Then more answers. And more questions. And so on… I came to understand that this cycle of curiosity and discovery is simply the process of my life.

So I’m grateful for unexplained mysteries. I’m grateful for how they make me look at things with an expectation of finding a key. And I’m grateful that I continue to find keys. It’s an ongoing adventure.

July 7 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 188 – Paul Gotts

(I’m not exactly sure what happened with my momentum a couple of weeks back, but for some reason, I let myself get behind again. No worries. Plunging back in and am hoping to be current by August 1. So, picking up where I left off, here’s the entry for July 7th…)

Today I am grateful for Paul Gotts.

Paul was a visual artist and a member of Eckankar from New Jersey. I didn’t know him well, but he gave me a gift some years ago that I still treasure.

I met him at an ECK seminar in 2004 or so. My ex-wife Deb and I had just gotten off stage after a talk we’d given, which included my playing a song or two. Paul came up and introduced himself, and said he’d always enjoyed my songs. Then he showed us a beautiful picture he’d done that featured Harold Klemp, the spiritual leader of Eckankar, in the foreground, with eight other ECK Masters in the background. It was beautiful. He explained that he had brought it to the seminar as a gift for someone, but that they had not been able to attend after all. He’d been looking for the right person to give it to instead and had decided it was us. So if we would accept it, he wanted us to have it. It was a sweet, generous offer and I was really touched. We accepted gratefully. (I’ve include a photo of the picture, though unfortunately the poor lighting gives it a bit of a yellowish tint not present in the original.)

I saw Paul a few times after that, at ECK seminars and we always greeted each other, with a hug or a wave across the room. Then I didn’t see him for awhile. I was saddened to learn recently that he’d passed a few years ago. I’ll miss seeing his smiling face and gentle eyes.

So I’m grateful for Paul Gotts, and for his generous gift. I’m grateful that, when Deb and I parted a few years ago, Paul’s picture stayed with me. And I’m grateful for how I feel whenever I look at the picture. Still opens my heart every time.

July 6 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 187 – Spilling Coffee In My Eye

Today I am grateful for spilling coffee in my eye.

I had a choir rehearsal today (Sunday) at the Temple of ECK. We’re scheduled to perform a song at a spiritual conference at the end of this month and though the song itself is fairly simple, the arrangement is a bit complex in places. So, multiple rehearals. I’m playing guitar and singing one of the bass parts which, in this song, happens to be the melody. Fortunately, the bass part is more baritone because, unlike the choir director, Rich, I can’t get all the way down to the bottom comfortably. Anyway, we’ve got several more rehearsals scheduled before the end of the month.

I arrived about the same time as Rich and we walked in together. I was a bit tired and felt I needed a little boost to get me through rehearsal, so I had stopped for some coffee to go. I had a full cup in one hand and my guitar in the other, so Rich got the outer door. Even though my cup was covered with a sipping top, I spilled a little coffee on my hand. Rich, seeing me lick up those few drops, mentioned that the Temple was discouraging people from bringing in drinks like coffee that could spill and stain the carpets. As he said that, I was thinking that I would be extra careful this time and remember to not bring coffee anymore. Then I caught my guitar on the door frame and stumbled, spilling more on my hand and on the top of the cup. As I leaned forward and started to do another quick clean up, I guess I must have gripped the cup a little tighter, because the coffee squirted right out of the sipping hole and into my eye. Fortunately, it was not hot enough to burn, but it certainly got my attention.

This was a first for me. I don’t recall ever having spilled coffee in my eye before. I set my guitar down and cleaned myself up before walking through the inner door. Rich watched with an amused look on his face and didn’t say anything else. I was about as careful as I’ve ever been with a cup of coffee and managed to get back to the choir room without any further accidents. I found a nice wide window ledge at the back of the room and set my coffee as far away from the edge as possible.

After practice, I realized that I had not touched my coffee. Perhaps I hadn’t been as tired as I’d thought. Or maybe that shot in the eye was all I needed. Anyway, I drank about half of it before leaving the room, mostly to increase my odds of making it out of the temple safely. As it turned out, I stopped to chat with someone in the atrium and finished my coffee there.

As I walked out past the spot where I’d taken the shot in the eye, I chuckled as I realized the simplicity of the lesson. Open your eyes! Pay attention! And remember where you are!

So I’m grateful for spilling coffee in my eye. I’m grateful Rich was kind enough to just let me have my experience, without judgment. I’m grateful for the humorous reminder to be aware of what I bring into that sacred space. And I’m very grateful it wasn’t hot enough to do any damage, so that I didn’t have to explain what happened: “Say, how come you’re wearing an eye patch?” Uhh, well, you see…

July 5 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 186 – Foreign Travel

Today I am grateful for foreign travel.

In 1964, just after I graduated from high school, I took a bus trip across the country to visit my girlfriend, Cindy, whose family had recently moved to Tucson, AZ. While I was there, the family took me to a resort in Guaymas, Mexico, on the Gulf of California, about 325 miles to the south. It was my first time to leave the country. It was fascinating to be in a different culture and I even got a chance to use my high school Spanish a few times. It was a short trip, but long enough to open my eyes to the fact that there was a bigger, more diverse world out there. A seed was planted…

A few years later I visited Canada for the first time, sneaking over the border with a friend of mine on the way to a rock festival. It was, of course, a very different experience than Mexico. For one thing, everyone spoke English. And though many differences exist between the US and Canada, our cultures are quite a bit alike. I would visit Canada much more a few years later, especially British Columbia.

The big shift, though, came in late 1972, when Jim McNealon and I left for Europe. (FYI, $168, round trip, on Loftleidir, or Icelandic Airways. Sweet!) I ended up staying for an entire year and visiting 13 countries — Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Austria, Italy, Greece, Yugoslavia, and Great Britain. (Technically, I suppose, it’s 14, since our flight stopped in Iceland on the way, but I didn’t absorb too much culture during our obligatory 1-hour stop at the Keflavik International Airport.) A few years later, on a second trip to Europe, I would add Denmark and Kenya, in East Africa, to the list. Australia was the last one, in 2006.

Every one of them was an adventure and had it’s own gifts to offer. Some of the stories have already been told in earlier blog entries. Others will be shared in future ones. I treasure the memories of those experiences and what they taught me, not only about our differences, but about our similarities. Perhaps the most important lesson I learned was that, no matter how different we seem to be on the outside, inside we are all very much alike in our hopes and dreams, in our fears and challenges, in our ability to laugh and play, to forgive and be grateful, to extend the hand of compassion for each other. And most of all, to Love.

So I’m grateful for foreign travel and the exposure to a number of different cultures. I’m grateful for all those wonderful adventures and the memories and the fun of sharing the stories. And I’m grateful to have learned just how very much we are alike, in spite of our many differences. I wouldn’t trade that perspective for anything.

July 4 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 185 – Independence Day

Today I am grateful for Independence Day.

I LOVED seeing Will Smith kicking alien butt and…

(Oh, wait, that’s not it…)

Martina McBride’s POWERFUL rendition of this great Gretchen Peters song has always been…

(Hmmm, that’s not it either…)

The signing of the Declaration of Independence is one of the most SIGNIFICANT…

(Nope, not yet…)

Freedom, fireworks, parade, grilling, celebration?

(Nope.)

For the record, I like all of those things — great movie, great song, great moment in U.S. history, and great fun. But the real reason I’m grateful for Independence Day is that it’s a personal reminder that my freedom, how I understand it and how I choose to apply it, is my responsibility and no one else’s. It is up to me to choose, moment by moment, what that means in my life, in the context of our society and in the context of my individuality, both human and spiritual. And whatever consequences are associated with my choices are mine to bear.

When we look at it that way, every day is Independence Day.

So I’m grateful for Independence Day. I’m grateful for personal freedom and personal responsibility. I’m also grateful for choices. I can create whatever I want…

July 3 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 184 – A Purring Cat

Today I am grateful for a purring cat.

So simple and yet it may be the best stress relief machine ever. Just sitting quietly with your favorite kitty in your lap. The volume is controlled by gently stroking around the ears, or under the chin, or on the belly, or, for maximum effect, on the back by the tail. Pulling the skin on the back of the neck works well, too. And for my cat, Bella, actually pulling the tail. That’s her absolute favorite. She starts purring if I even look at her tail.

There’s something primally soothing about a cat’s purr. I don’t know the secret, except that it works. She gets in my lap, I crank up the volume for a few minutes, and I start to chill. Or alternately, I put her around my neck, like a scarf.

For some reason, not all cats purr. Not sure why. Most if not all of the small ones do. And most of the big ones don’t. Interestingly, the ones that roar, like lions and tigers, can’t purr. And the ones that purr, like mountain lions and bobcats, can’t roar. Apparently, near relatives, like mongooses, guinea pigs, raccoons and even hyenas, can also purr. Hard to imagine being relaxed with a purring hyena on my lap. though I could be persuaded to try a mongoose.

So I’m grateful for a purring cat, lap or scarf, makes no difference. I’m grateful I have one on call 24/7, if needed. And I’m grateful to know about all those other purring animals. I find that very interesting. Especially hyenas. Who knew? My only question is this: Is Katy Perry is incapable of purring?

July 2 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 183 – The Halfway Point

 

 

Today I am grateful for the halfway point.

This blog, My Personal Year Of Gratitude, was started spontaneously on January 1, within an hour of the original inspiration. I saw it and I just leaped in, not having a clue where it would lead. Discovering the points of gratitude in so many experiences has been an amazing undertaking that has blessed me many times over. I’m very grateful for all your support — Likes, Comments, Shares, etc., and I’m looking forward to seeing what the second half of the year brings. With this post, I have now passed the halfway mark, so I thought I would celebrate by sharing all of the post titles thus far, for those who might be interested. Here they are, in order of appearance. They are arranged by month on the blog site. So, for example, #s 1-30 are in the January folder, 31-58 are in February, and so on. Enjoy! And thanks again!

1. Learning To Play Guitar
2. Lewis & Wendy
3. Wesley & Roy 
4. Heat
5. Dylan and Charity
6. Being A Songwriter
7. Knowing Who I Am
8. Playing Music For Seniors
9. Forgiveness
10. My Miracle Sneakers
11. Feeding Myself Well
12. Quiet Reflection
13. Snake Hunting
14. “Aha!” Moments
15. Touching The Northern Lights
16. Angels
17. The Law Of The Fear Projector
18. Ping Pong
19. Alligators
20. Martin Luther King, Jr.
21. ??? (A Mystery)
22. Communicating With Animals
23. My Lorikeet Platter
24. Savory Oatmeal
25. The Daphne Wine Festival
26. Brevity
27. Shooting David
28. Having Known Aussie
29. Project: Gratitude
30. Illusions, the Book
31. The Alaska Highway
32. Seeing the Beatles
33. The Super Bowl
34. Old, Comfortable Shoes
35. My Shark Encounter
36. My Snow Day
37. Seeing My Dad Levitate
38. My Lavender Neck Pillow Gift
39. My Favorite Friendship Quote
40. German Forest Honey
41. Telemarketing
42. The Renaissance Hawk
43. Nutella
44. Old Photos
45. Saint Valentine’s Day
46. My Beard
47. Fasting
48. President’s Day
49. Cayenne Pepper
50. YOU (the reader)
51. Eating at Club Tokyo
52. Coffee
53. 155 Pounds
54. Mrs. Kenneally
55. My Dear Friend, Nancy
56. That Thieving Raccoon
57. Sherrie, the Cert. Nurses Tech
58. Breaking My Hand
59. Small Miracles
60. 5-Year-Old Jerrell
61. My Life (Ricky Bailey)
62. Departed Friends
63. Old Friends, Still Out There…
64. Being Able To Cry
65. Common Sense
66. Endings & Beginnings
67. Life As A Role-playing Game
68. The Scattering of Ashes
69. The Art of Appreciation
70. My Seasonal Allergies
71. Remember Doubloons
72. 5 Levels of Dreaming
73. Dad’s Driving Lesson
74. The Memory of Dr. Seng
75. Dreams
76. St. Patrick’s Day
77. The Passing of a Dear Friend
78. Kind, Loving Words
79. Stress Relief
80. Opportunity To Celebrate a Life
81. The Frog in Swimming Pool
82. The Laughing Seed Cafe
83. The Messenger in The Wheelchair
84. One Last Goodbye
85. Being of Service
86. The Cycles of Life
87. My First Opera Singer
88. My Mom (on her birthday)
89. Detaching
90. Granddaddy
91. April Fools’ Day
92. My Cousins
93. Moving a Lot
94. My Musical Diversity
95. The Unsuccessful Thief
96. Writing a New Song
97. Cakes for Mikhail Gorbachev
98. My Laptop Computer
99. Craigslist and eBay
100. 100 Points of Gratitude
101. My Friend, Rick Johnson
102. Outstanding Memorial Service
103. My Inner Voice
104. The Home Stretch
105. My Bed
106. Knowing Important Stuff
107. Throwback Thursday
108. My Favorite Commitment Quote 
109. The Present Moment
110. The Road
111. Harmony
112. Earth Day
113. My Stuff
114. Efficient Roofers
115. A Few Hours of Sleep
116. Patience and Persistence
117. A Better Day
118. Progress
119. The Spiritual Master, Prajapati
120. The Last-minute Estate Buyer
121. Coming To My Senses
122. Surviving Move Out
123. Recovering From Move Out
124. Being Away From Nashville
125. Down Time
126. Life As A Gift Storm
127. An Awesome Massage
128. The Cocoon
129. Childhood Memories
130. David and Rhonda Jones
131. Your Patience
132. James and Roy
133. Passing Through Nashville
134. Joel & Rhonda Atkins
135. Seeing Bella Again
136. Making It Out Of Nashville
137. An Easy Visit With Deborah
138. Going With The Flow
139. Being Back In Minnesota
140. Locked In Temple Grounds
141. A Class At The Temple Of ECK
142. A New Friend, Laura
143. Finding A Place To Live
144. Renewing Old Friendships
145. An Easy Move In
146. Memorial Day
147. 3800 Kings Point Road
148. Perkins Pancakes in Chan.
149. My New Phone
150. Weather Timing
151. A New Set Of Strings
152. Playing Music at Temple Of ECK
153. Authentic Healers
154. Old Song Lists
155. A Warm Reception
156. Yet Another New Place to Live
157. Courage and Sacrifice
158. Spiritual Reminders
159. The Exploding Chicken
160. Not Getting Bitten by A Snake
161. The Subtle Tests of Spirit
162. Back to Professional Music
163. The Aluminum Christmas Tree
164. My Taylor Acoustic Guitar
165. The Robbinsdale Hilton
166. My Dad
167. Miss Fuller
168. Knowing Bella’s Past Life
169. Jammin’
170. Voices That Sing In My Head
171. The Little Things
172. Finding Bella
173. My Ambitious Mind
174. Pecan Pie
175. My Gift Day
176. A Request To Play My Song
177. Intimacy
178. Politeness
179. Lakewinds Food Co-op
180. A Little Down Time
181. The Adventure of Hitchhiking
182. Learning To Perform Solo

 

July 1 – My Personal Year Of Gratitude, Day 182 – Learning To Perform Solo

Today I am grateful for learning to perform solo.

I got my first guitar on March 30, 1964. I learned how to tune it, how to hold a pick and how to strum with it. My friend, Pete, showed me a few chords, including the elusive (for beginners) “F” chord. I bought a couple of songbooks and managed to learn a few songs to play around the house. In December of that year, somebody in the neighborhood heard that I played guitar and just like that, I was in a band. I barely had a clue, but I DID have an amplifier.

I couldn’t play very well, but I learned that there was a certain amount of safety in numbers. My mistakes, unless they were blatant, generally got lost in all the music. And I learned another trick, a sneaky one — if I made an obvious mistake, I simply looked at someone else with a slightly judgmental look, as if it had been them. I probably didn’t fool anybody but myself, but it got me through at the time.

Bands were like relationships — they came and went. I played in a number of them from 1964 to 1972: The Chains, the Senders, The Loners, The Rogues, Noah’s Ark, Rat’s Rump and a few others that didn’t last long enough to get named. It was mostly a lot of fun.

Then in 1972, after our band Rat’s Rump broke up, my friend Jim McNealon and I saved up some money and took off for Europe. We had a blast for several months, until our money started to run out. Jim decided to return to the states, but I elected to stay longer. I had a 3-month Eurail Pass, a gift from my folks, so I could travel anywhere in Europe for free. I headed to Amsterdam, because I’d heard it was easy to get work playing in folk clubs if you were an American.

I managed to land a job in a Youth Hostel, which paid $80/month, plus room and board. I only had to work 20 hours a week, during the day, so I was free to explore the folk club option at night. I’d been playing and singing in bands for eight years, so I figured it would be a piece of cake. Not so much.

It was downright scary the first time. I went onstage with complete confidence, but soon realized that the full responsibility for the success of the performance lay squarely on my shoulders. I felt naked without a band around me and when I made my first mistake, I found myself looking around for someone to give a slightly judgmental look to. But there was only me. It was a real wake up call.

But I persisted and the more I played by myself, the more I understood the seemingly obvious fact that it was just me up there and I had to own it. And over time, I got more comfortable being onstage “naked.” And as I realized that I could create it however I wanted to, I got better at it. But there was a very important lesson I still had to learn.

In the mid-80s, living in Seattle, I reached the burnout stage. I was literally worn out from performing and no longer enjoyed it. I had reached the end of my capacity and I stopped booking gigs. I still had 6 months of work on the books and, since I needed the money, I fulfilled those contracts. Habit got me through them but inside, I no longer felt like a professional musician. I was slightly amazed that no one else seemed to know.

I ended up taking 5 years off and, toward the end of that time, I had an important realization. Because I was initially unsure of myself onstage solo, I unknowingly had developed the habit of keeping my heart partially closed onstage. I allowed it to be open when I was performing, but as soon as the song was done, I closed it, to protect myself from judgment. Unfortunately, that also kept me from receiving the Love that was given in appreciation of my performance. No wonder I had burned out. I’d been giving Love all those years via music, but had not been allowing myself to receive the Love that was being given back to me. I was drained.

I didn’t return to professional music until 1990, shortly after I had moved to the Twin Cities. I attended a small concert that a friend of mine, Bruce, was putting on and, in the very last song, he was passionately repeating the line, “Open up, risk it all,” over and over. I had a strong sense that those words held a deep meaning for me and, after the performance, he asked me to play a few songs in another concert the next month. Even though I had not played in public much at all in 5 years, I found myself agreeing.

The following month, I played several songs and made a point of keeping my heart open the entire time. The Love and appreciation from the audience washed over me like a healing balm. I was astounded. How could I have missed this for so long? This experience gave me a renewed interest in music and I began to play regularly again, with my heart wide open. I was led into several years of performing for seniors, many as they approached the end of their life. These experiences served to open my heart even further and helped me to put more and more Love into my performances.

Now, though the reasons are very different, I’ve just completed another cycle of not playing music for a few years. And I find myself, after a series of experiences that served to open my heart even more, at the beginning of a new cycle of performing again.

After 40+ years of solo performing experience, I’m much more comfortable up there than when I began. But I am also acutely aware that the weight of responsibility for the performance is still on my shoulders. Thankfully, I’ve learned to dance with it. The secret, I’ve discovered, is to do it with an open heart…