No. 14 | I had a moment yesterday evening that, looking back on it now, I feel as though I experienced from multiple vantage points. From one vantage point, I was just experiencing a simple conversation occurring in time. There was an awkwardness to the conversation that was there because I had brought it. There was another vantage point wherein I was looking on, watching what was taking place, and asking good questions. Why was I feeling the emotions that I was feeling? Did I believe the answers that I was giving to the questions asked of me? Is this who I want to be? As those questions arose, something within me said, “This moment matters. There is something here that you need to work out.” For quite some time after what for most involved was just a passing conversation, I have continued to poke and prod my heart with some helpful questions.
Between that moment and this, I have done a fair amount of soul searching. And while I am sure I still have much of that left to do, I do see some things that I have needed to see.
Fundamentally, the conversation was about art. In this case, it concerned music specifically. But at base, the question I afterward found myself wrestling with was this: What is the value of art?
In May of 2015, Picasso’s Les femmes d’Alger (Version ‘O’) sold at auction for $179.4 million. Picasso may not be the best example as he acquired considerable wealth from his art. Van Gogh’s The Starry Night is valued at over $100 million, and he sold only one painting in his lifetime. So what is the value of unmonetized art? What is the value of the lullaby you make up and sing to your child as you rock her to sleep?
I write and sing songs. This is the topic that came up in conversation. Somebody called me out. I have shared them, but not with a great deal of freedom. I have not shared them with the joy that flows from giving. In truth, I have barely shared them at all. I think not sharing them with freedom has robbed me of experiencing some of the joy that they might offer to me. Not sharing them certainly robs my community, no matter how big or how small, or the joy that they might offer. That is a thought trail for another day, but I am sure that is true.
Music is not a “hobby I work to pay for” as I have too often joked. It is, and I do work to pay for it. But music, the music that I write and sing and would write and sing whether or not anyone else ever listened in, is far more than that in my life. I have heard famous musicians when interviewed say, “I would be doing this whether I was getting paid or not.” I am simply living proof that the statement is true. I have joked before that being gifted to make music is both “a blessing and a curse”. I cannot continue believing that to be true. Being reasonably capable to make music must be one of the most wonderful gifts imaginable.
I need to tie a bow on this post. I know full well that I will be working for some time on settling this whole discussion in my heart and mind. I will not work it all out and settle it here in a post this morning.
Where I have landed as I have considered and prayed is that all good things given to me are ultimately not for me. They are for others. They are for my loved ones, my friends, and my community. If you pray, pray for me. Pray that I would not seek or be so concerned to monetize the little melody and poetry gifts I have been given. Pray that I would share them. And pray that whomever it is that they are for will find them, find joy in them, and be encouraged by them.
Given all of this, perhaps the best way to tie a bow would be to share a song. Here is something I recorded just yesterday. It is an old Hymn text that I love sung with a reimagined melody. This was truly a happy accident one day when I started to sing and play it and got off with the wrong timing and melody. Just a week ago I happened upon a piece of paper where I had made some notes and somehow, years later, the unexpected melody from that day some years ago was easy for me to find and sing.
And for what it is worth, I love the old melody. I would not say it needed improvement. But new melodies do help me to see things from new vantage points. And I love new melodies generally.