What am I afraid of?

Someone asked me this question in reference to relationships once.

I have frequently asked myself this question in the past.

Today I ask it about my music.

What am I afraid of?

I watched It Might Get Loud again. Still amazing. Even more amazing, watching how these guys revere and respect each other, truly interested in what the other is saying.

But it occurred to me at one point that I think if I were actually to know one of these guys, to spend a lot of time around them, we could probably have delightful conversation about lots of things and they probably enjoy and pursue a variety of passions. And yet, when I would get them on the subject of the electric guitar or music, their passion would nearly disgust me. It happens frequently with oboists. If you've ever heard two oboists discussing cane and shaper tips, then you may understand in part. Normally this sort of shop talk annoys me, partially because I think I can't keep up, maybe? But seeing these three great guitarists talking shop, since it's not my shop talk, I guess, I think it's incredible. And I sometimes catch myself thinking "I wish I knew all of that, I wish I could think that way" and to a certain extent, I can! And yet, when I'm around oboists who know the oboe-equivalent of electric-guitar-shop-talk, I walk away from them and think "I could never be like that. I don't want to be. I don't want to become what it takes to be that guy, that oboist, principal of that orchestra."

Why not?

I really could, if I wanted it. And there's a part of me that does want it, but not all of it. What don't I want? What am I afraid of?

I think I'm afraid of being weird. I know. Sad. Elementary school, even. But I'm still not convinced we ever change. I'm a little like Gregory House, M.D. in that way. It's like that Elizabeth & the Catapult song ... "we're all just taller children..." Some of us more taller than others. So I think I'm afraid of becoming the person that people walk away from shaking their heads and saying "wow. I don't ever want to be that way." Like if I really dig into the oboe, I'll lose my friends, I'll lose my respect - maybe even for myself. And maybe I will.

If I do, is it worth it?

But, then again, if I really dig into the oboe, I could just get what I'm trying for - a job playing music, and what I do with that job ... that's up to me. There are really mind-blowing musicians who are still approachable and relatable. Those are my favorite kind. Could I be one of those? I don't know that my friend would abandon me, I might draw them closer, because I can urge them on in their pursuits the way I've gone in mine. Maybe it's not about drawing people closer or pushing them away. If we each pursue our individual paths (assuming we have them) and we pursue them rightly, then if our paths are designed to line up, we will, and if not, we won't -- presumably.

But it takes effort. And I'm tired. Literally in this moment. And figuratively almost all of the time. But why am I tired? Maybe it's because I've been away from passion for so long, it's lost its excitement. Not really, but in my memory it has. I don't remember the effort being worth the result ... maybe it's just from a few bad experiences.

I don't know what all this means. I'm still working it out in my head, but I think an important question for me to be asking myself right now is:

What am I afraid of?

Strawberry Swing

I saw the Chicago Symphony perform Brahms' Eine Deutsche Requiem tonight with Riccardo Muti in Chicago. It was really a very beautiful and thoughtful performance. It made me think a lot. I could tell the musicians were thinking a lot, had thought a lot. I did feel that the CSO suffered a little bit from the same thing many American orchestras seem to have trouble with, which is ... thinking too much. It seems American orchestras tend to aim for, and achieve, technically perfect concerts. Every note is placed precisely where it ought to be, with exactly the correct emphasis. Everything is right. But they seem to sacrifice a certain amount of passion and humanity. And the Brahms' Requiem. I mean, come on, it's a Requiem. It's about dead people. About death. Humanity is essential. But the point of this post is not to talk about the faults of the Chicago Symphony. As if I could even dream of doing that.
As everything in this world should be, this post is about me. (Please, note my sarcasm.) But seriously. During the first movement of the Requiem, what kept going through my mind was 1 Corinthians 13. If I am the best musician on stage, but I have not Love ... I am nothing. I am worthless. I am an out-of-tune piano. (That just reminded me of Rob Bell's Nooma video called "Rhythm." Check it out if you can.)
I want to play in an orchestra. I want to play in the Chicago Symphony. But I would choose an orchestra that plays with passion, that remembers they love music, that puts themselves on the line for their audience members over one that is known and well-respected and technically perfect. I want to take risks musically ... even though I don't in my own practice. But I want to start. I would rather be in a passionate ensemble than a perfect one. Maybe I would join an ensemble who has forgotten the music, in order to help them remember. Maybe this is precisely why I'm in the Halo Ensemble (which is what I'm doing in Chicago in the first place, right now.)
I also thought that there is no reason on Earth why I shouldn't be in an orchestra. A Good one even. Maybe more on that later. For now. A song. By Coldplay. And bedtime. Finally.

Strawberry Swing
Coldplay

They were sitting, they were sitting in the strawberry swing
And every moment was so precious

They were sitting, they were talking in the strawberry swing
And everybody was for fighting
Wouldn't wanna waste a thing

Cold, cold water bring me 'round
Now my feet won't touch the ground
Cold, cold water
What you say?
It's such, it's such a perfect day
It's such a perfect day

I remember we were walking up to strawberry swing
I can't wait 'til the morning
Wouldn't wanna change a thing
People moving all the time
Inside a perfect straight line
Don't you wanna curve away
It's such it's such a perfect day
It's such a perfect day

Ahhhh....

Now the sky could be blue
I don't mind
Without you its a waste of time
...could be blue I don't mind, without you it's a waste of time
The sky could be blue, could be gray without you I just slide away
The sky could be blue, I don't mind, without you it's a waste of time