Walking the tightrope

I am just one person... One person with a million thoughts...But I have only one dream. At least it started as a dream, briefly became a reality, as if to tease me, and then once again became a dream. It will probably always be this way. Most times I'm sure it's still what I want to do with my life. When I was younger I was never more sure about anything than the fact that I wanted to sing my songs. When you're young you don't think about practicalities. I didn't say to myself, "I want to make a living with my music." I merely said,"I want to sing my songs." The dreamer in me thought that that would feed me somehow. I think it was that attitude that got me to where I am though. If I think about it, when it came to music, I never thought twice, I just said yes, and the universe heard me. There was nothing calculating about it, no ulterior motives, no thoughts of whether or not it'd make me famous, put food on my table, pay my bills... It was just an inherent love for music and it was enough for me.

It was one of those times, that I said yes without thought or hesitation, that everything changed. Now, 6 years after the fact, singing is no longer enough for me. Reality snuck in. The dream got lost in a myriad of things like marketing and politics and radio friendly hooks. I am one of millions of dreamers who all have the same dream and guess what I discovered? A dream DOESN'T sustain you. When you realise that, and it becomes about compromising your dream and your passion in order to pay your bills, you find yourself on a tightrope, teetering this way and that, trying to maintain the balance between survival and sanity, without falling. It's very hard to follow the path that destiny obligingly laid out in front of you, back in the days when dreaming was enough. Especially when you have to keep denying Destiny in order to feed yourself. While you are selling your soul to make money, Destiny is tapping her fingers impatiently on the sidelines and you know she won't wait forever but a fear of losing your grip prevents you from giving in to her. And it's not even just about sustenance anymore. It's about getting yourself out there so people don't lose you in the millions of other desperate hopefuls trying to reach that pinnacle, the holy of holies, that place of all places with the signpost that reads, "You have arrived." (cue the choir of angels singing triumphantly) But that place is rather elusive I've realised. It's the mirage in the desert of the music industry.

The reason for that, I think, is because such a place doesn't actually exist. Not for a lot of artists. They will never arrive because there will always be one more level to climb, one more song to be written, one more show that will outshine them all. It will never be good enough and most will go to their graves still having felt that they're not finished. The well of creativity doesn't dry up. It is continuously filling itself. If an artist wants to find peace, it will only be as fleeting as the length of time they spend drawing from the well. The peace is in the process of creating. The rest of the life of the song is spent endlessly trying to capture that feeling until realisation dawns that it is gone. No matter that the song touched millions of lives. The artist has already moved on to the next creation because she has no choice but to keep striving for that feeling. We never really "arrive".

I was reading "The witch of Portobello" by Paulo Coelho recently and it seems so simple. Just go where you need to go. Be who you need to be. You will survive as long as you are doing what you are meant to be doing and, with love. It's hard to just let go and let Destiny have her way. It wasn't, 15 years ago. It is now. With knowledge comes fear. How do you take the plunge and allow yourself to fall off that tightrope, trusting that there is something waiting to cushion you? You won't know until you try, it's true. But the "what ifs" can be intimidating.

I can hear Destiny's eyeballs roll up and hit the ceiling with a resounding thud...I know she doesn't get my confusion. She still sees me as she always has, a passionate songwriter with stories to tell to anyone who will listen. So it's just me who has changed then. Am I entirely to blame for that? I guess I am. Nobody has the power to change me without me choosing to allow them. I know that. I forgot how to listen and I can no longer hear what I need to hear.

Ok, admitting this is a start, is it not? I guess I'll have to take it one step at a time. The well hasn't dried up. It's forever filling up. That means there's hope for me yet. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be me and that's good enough. At least, she seems to think so. Ok then...

I step out onto the rope... For a few seconds I sway this way and that way and then, holding my breath.

I fall.