How It Went (Some Dreams Tour) and the Need for Trust

Back in March I made a few posts about the Some Dreams Tour I planned to do with Nate Butler. Well the tour happened (some of you were there). It was good. We all leaned in and went there. Specifically, that was Nate, Amber (they're married) and their fits-in-a-stroller daughter Charlotte. We played every night for a week, some days twice. It was marvelous. And exhausting.

The first night I lost my voice half way through my set. I was already worried that my voice wouldn't make it through so full a schedule. (Up until then I don't think I'd done more than 4 concerts in a week -- including the year I spent on the road with the Radiant Sonchild tour). It was one of those scary moments. I muddled through the rest of the set, adding long instrumentals, cutting songs, and singing not-so-great melodies. It was at the Electric Brew (a hometown audience) so people were nice.

As things were wrapping up I was pretty worried about the week ahead. I prayed asking for help and perspective. "You're just going to have to trust Me" is what popped into my head. So I did and my voice was fine the rest of the time.

Soon after I started writing music (which I loved) I started playing music live (which terrified me). There's been some element of trust needed for me since the beginning, and what I've learned and continue to learn (when it works out well or goes very badly) about trust as I get up in front of people to sing or speak, most definitely applies to other areas of my life as well.

The Doctor and Memories and Towns

I was contacted today by a guy I know who produces videos. He asked if I'd be interested in licensing one of my songs for a Dr. Scholl's commercial. Well, I knew the day would come sooner or later when I'd have to decide if I'd sell out or not, but... thank goodness that day hasn't come yet! I love Dr. Scholls. Little known fact -- when I'm on the road and have been around people too much and need to get away, sometimes I go to a supermarket or drug store and hangout out in the insoles aisle. No one is ever there and insoles are comfort food for your feet.

We'll see if it happens, not a done deal yet. But it would be pretty fun if my first song licensing comes from the Doctor.

Which song?

Memories and Towns

Lean in and Go There

Within each network of relationships, formal or informal, a vocabulary will eventually develop. Buzzwords.

In my network two common phrases are "go there" and "lean in." While it's difficult to nail down exactly what these phrases mean, both are related to choosing to engage (and stay engaged with) difficult situations, challenges, learning opportunities.

I saw Tedeschi Trucks band last month and I remember physically "leaning in" and also "going there." I was sitting at the edge of my seat. (So that's where the cliche came from...) His slide playing was interesting, unique and compelling.

I assume that Mr. Trucks has spent many, many hours alone "leaning in" and "going there" with his guitar when he might have preferred to be doing something else. Because of that his audience gets the chance "go there" and may find themselves "leaning in" without meaning to.

That's an encouraging thought whether "leaning in and going there" means getting up the nerve to play at an open mic, apologizing rather than defending yourself, paying attention to or admitting your feelings, exercising, trying for a new job or forgiving someone who hurt you.

It's just so scary

Christa and I took a quick trip to Nashville earlier this month. Last year I spent several weeks there getting to know the city and working up the courage to play at open mics. I've played hundreds and hundreds of concerts in my lifetime, but probably less than 10 open mics. At this point I don't particularly like them. Actually I get pretty nervous. In a normal concert I usually have time to get a decent mix and it sometimes takes me a few songs to get into it, but that's ok. At the Bluebird open mic, you get one song. No time to warm up or tweak your mix. Get up and deliver the song. It kind of levels the playing field.

Well not completely. Even with all those restrictions, there's still the song and the performance. I've heard brilliant songs in Nashville that nailed me even though the writer could hardly sing. And, of course, many mediocre songs that seemed pretty good because of the performance.

Writing a song is one thing. Delivering it is another. Recording it is another thing altogether.

The night I played the Bluebird this month there were 30 performers. Everyone played once and then they picked 10 of those 30 to play a second time, a second song. I sat there while they picked the names, hoping really, really hard that they would not pick me. I made it through delivering one song; I wasn't sure I could have done another. They didn't call my name and I gulped water in the corner and posted to instagram through the final 25 minutes, then grabbed my guitar and cleared out of there. It's a good thing to do, a privilege for which I'm grateful.

It's just so scary.

Dailies, Part Two

After a few more revisions I ended up with this. And it's kind of working. (It takes 3 months or so to get a habit firmly established and I'm not there yet, but it's doable. Even, I think, while traveling).

It's quite different than my original concept. It's now the 3 Minute Dailies. I set the timer for 3 minutes. I do each discipline for that long. Stretching. Guitar scales. Sketching. Free write. Prayer. Silence. Reading. Study. Reflection. Etc.

If I'm rushed I cut it down to two minutes for each thing and it still works. If I've got just ten minutes I still get more than half of it done.

Dailies

A while back I got tired of the fact that I've been so inconsistent with my personal daily disciplines. So I decided to make a system to put them in. I drew a nice chart, (one I'd want to look at every day as I began my new life of consistency). The chart included many, many things I'm working on (sporadically) from a wide variety of arenas: creative disciplines, mental disciplines, spiritual disciplines, etc.

I tried it. It didn't work. (Some of my friends predicted this). It seems I don't have two hours free for this every day.

So I went back to the drawing board and chopped it all up into small, workable segments. Only 45 minutes Mon, Wed, Fri, a full hour Tues and Thurs. That'll work, right? Hmm. No. I'll tell you where I ended up in the next post...

Coffee

Cold shoulders

Cold fingers

Shivering

Chattering

Hum of a refrigerator

Snow flakes buzzing like bugs

- Jonathan Reuel, 2013