3am muse – the cry for authenticity (Part 2)

I heard him before I saw him playing the electric guitar and singing his heart out. I recognized a kindred spirit right away. I was on my way to the National Zoo in DC with my two daughters. But I ended up mesmerized for nearly an hour by this ridiculously talented 60-something year-old man.

I mentioned his age because I have used my age as a pithy excuse countless times… I am too old to play guitar, I am too old to learn to play electric lead guitar the way I hear it in my head… Yes, ten years ago, I dreamed that a zombie-like Jimi Hendrix forced his way through my car’s sun roof. He was covered in dust and hitchhiking, and as I took an exit off the highway, he forced his way into my car uninvited… No one can miss the obvious meaning of the dream – music forcing its way into my life, no matter how I try to ignore, shun or suppress it!

I digress…

This baby-boomer was killing it! He was playing lead guitar outside the Woodley Park metro stop… rock and roll, blues, 80s wuss rock, he played them all imperfectly with a determined recklessness… He didn’t seem to care whether we paid attention to him or not. He just played.

I stood there, head banging and toe-tapping. I couldn’t help myself. I was moved. I was inspired. I was rocking out with him.
Being a guitar nerd, I drooled over the tone of his Fender Stratocaster… It sounded just like Jimi Hendrix (on Angel) or Jimmy Page (on Ramble On) and I said I loved the sound of his fender.

“Oooh, watch out now! ” He joked and I realized I sounded a little too earnest.
“I own one”, I replied. And immediately added that I hadn’t played it for a while.
“You own one and you don’t play it?” He asked incredulously. I loved Fenders and bought one after years of coveting others’ Strats. Finally, while pregnant in 2012 (sounds like a song title), I impetuously bought a Fender American Deluxe Stratocaster, but could never quite bring myself to play it. I guess on a deeper level I didn’t think I deserved to play one.
But That moment outside the metro, I decided to give myself permission to enjoy the things I loved to do. I will dust off my treasured Fender and play my heart out -noo matter how imperfectly I sound.

What do you need to give yourself permission to enjoy? What makes you come alive? Why aren’t you doing it?

The thing is, my guitar is gently weeping as I am getting older and older, making more and more excuses…

Use your talents. Just write the song, tell the story… bake the pie, draw that scenery… Just thread that needle! Like Jesus said in the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:29) “For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.”

Do it. Use your talents – every single one!

Don’t die with your music still in you. Die completely used up.

You have what it takes. The world needs you.

Stop crying. Grab that guitar (or needle, or pen) and play!