Lessons in the Listening

It takes a lot for me to want to go to a concert - or even get out of the house these days. The crowds, the heat, fighting for a spot to park, looking for a the seat you paid for so you could watch your favorite lifetime artists just seems…a little daunting. Not to mention, the cost of a concert these days.

All I ever really wanted was an intimate connection between me and the music…a quiet place to listen to the songs that have been the background to my adult life. But it seems like at concerts, all I ever got were the distractions around me - drunk people searching for their seats, coming in late, spilling their drinks on me, or even fighting with each other during a favorite song. Hell, one year at a concert, I even spotted a female running topless through the crowd.

“I didn’t come for all this BS,” I thought to myself. “I came for the music. I came for Dave.” (Insert whatever artist you love here instead)

“I didn’t come to hear 10,000 people sing Grey Street. I came to hear HIM!”

So there I was, hot and sweaty, stuck in the middle of thousands of people when all I wanted to connect with was the few people making music on stage, when the thought occurred to me - this isn’t about that.

After all this time it dawned on me that this was about connection. But not with the band…with the community around me.

It was never about my relationship with the music. Okay…well, it IS about the music. But it was also about how it brought all of these people together. My people, the strangers next to me, the couple fighting behind me, and my family lost somewhere in the sea of humans around me - feeling the feels. It was about the connection between all of us woven together like a tapestry that sounds a lot like music.

In the world we live in, where we are entering war s we didn’t ask for with leaders we never wanted in charge in the first place, it’s nice to see some commonality. It’s nice to feel connection to something big. For a moment this weekend, I lost myself in the face of the music. It reminded me to love and be loved, to give grace when I can, and mostly, keep connecting with those around me…and especially the ones right beside me.

Thanks again to the Dave Matthews Band for making life pretty dang sweet for certain.

On becoming the spark

The Dave Matthews Band last week at the N. Charleston Coliseum. Taken with my trusty iPhone.

How do we stand out in a crowd? How do we become noticed instead of one of the masses? How do we move from the crowd onto the stage and into the spotlight of our own lives?

I watched an interview with Dave Matthews (yes, THAT Dave Matthews) a few weeks ago. In the interview, he spoke about a turning point in his life. He said when he was young, singing in the living room his father turned to him and said "Son, you sing so well that you can even sing off key on purpose. That's incredible!" This was a turning point for him. He said he knew at that moment he was going to be a musician. That became his belief. That became his mission. He knew he loved what he did, but one person validated him and it was a done deal.

As a photographer, I think about following my passion and standing out in a sea of talent almost daily. The quest for getting noticed can be real and strong at times - much the same as I imagine musicians to feel.  So what is it that puts you in the spotlight over a million others out there?  Is it luck? Confidence? Kindness? Sheer determination and a will? Or is it someone believing in you just like Dave Matthews' father did for him all those years ago?

I think it's perhaps a combination of elements for most of us. But what I know for sure is that the more you believe you can do it, the more likely it will be to happen for you. Like any energy in the world, it just needs something to get started. A spark. A drop. Something to give it momentum and speed.

Just remember, always, that the spark starts with you first.