Steeped in post-Beatles Beatles today. Haven’t seen Boyhood yet, but the Ethan Hawk letter to his kid/the character in the movie really moved me. Rick Moody asked folks to come up with their own post-Beatles Best of the Beatles list and here’s mine. If you want to listen to the whole list that was included in the movie follow this link.
You can watch videos, since not all of the songs are available to stream. I have to admit, reading that piece by Hawk and delving into these songs has got me feeling a little weepy and unstable for reasons I can only chalk up to early fall melancholy, but there’s probably more to it than that. In compiling this list I tried to stay away from “hits” for no other reason than I figured folks knew them and I wanted to concentrate on material that spoke to me when I looked back at these records. Honestly, other than “Plastic Ono Band” and “All Things Must Pass” I haven’t listened to any of these records for a long time. I also concentrated on records I actually own.
Mother- I was adopted. This song (and the majority of the POB record) resonated for me in a very personal way.
I Found Out-Great uptempo rocker, so raw in comparison to late Beatles output.
Isolation-Again, raw emotion, but sheathed in a beautiful mid tempo soul arrangement.
Jealous Guy-Originally called “Child of Nature” and later turned into an amazing confessional tune.
How Do You Sleep?-Maybe the best fuck you song ever written?
Glasses/Junk-To my ears McCartney was at his best in the 70 when he was fiddling around and not trying to hard. he could write effortlessly beautiful music, seemingly without trying. These two pieces together are perhaps the best examples of that phenomenon
Too Many People-Response to “How Do You Sleep”? Maybe. But what makes this song for me is the transition between the plodding verses and the lyrical refrain. Another example of Macca’s next-level melodic gifts.
Long Haired Lady-A pretty love song that’s not trying to hard to be anything more.
It Don’t Come Easy-Had to include a Ringo song and this one is better than the rest. Yes, it’s a hit, but lyrically (thanks, George) it stands up strong.
What Is Life-It’s arguable that George had the better early solo material. Of course, he had a huge backlog from the Beatles days. What’s striking to me is how the output in this early solo period really seems to settle in on the personalities and demons of each of the three principle songwriters. George’s questioning throughout all of All Things Must Pass remains germane to me and my life in ways that only John’s output rivals. As a recovering person, I look at these three songs and see in them the questions that I have to answer for myself still encapsulated to near perfection in pop songs. There’s something about how centered George in on this record that inspires me to continue to try.
Art of Dying
All Things Must Pass
I’m not going to do a song-by-song-breakdown of this disc. It was a trudge to find 12 songs worth including, but I told myself I’d find 12 for each “disc.” Ringo and George were notably absent from the land of good throughout the ’73-’80 time period. Their selections here are just above tokenism. John’s output flagged as well, but he still had his moments. Mostly I fell back onto thinking of how these songs hit my ears when I was 11 or 12 and I was John obsessed. The Rock n Roll LP was the first of his solo records I bought and for years I was more familiar with is versions of these songs than I was with the originals. John’s “Double Dantasy’ (at least his songs on the record) rival the spiritual journey that George encapsulated on ATMP. Paul got the better of the late 70s. Yes, the records are incredibly uneven, but there’s a lot to choose from. I could have stuck with “Band on the Run” and chosen great songs from him, but I eschewed the hits on purpose to find again those little moments where he was letting melody guide him instead of what seemed like an almost pathological obsession with proving he was a pop genius without the other three dudes. I included “Silly Love Songs” because I think it’s a great, great tune.
This is an off the top of my head list. I’ve been invited to do a couple 10 book lists, one being a list dedicated to non-fiction by my friend Pete Cenedella. I’m embarrassed to say I really haven’t read enough non-fiction (or been sufficiently altered by that reading) to compile a list of 10 selections. Non-fiction is like vegetables to me: sustaining, sometimes enjoyable, but ultimately not super inspiring. YMMV.
As for fiction, I’m having a really hard time putting together a list of 10 for that as well. There have been some many formative phases of reading in my life, each of which contained at least 10 mind/life altering readings and I find myself reluctant to really put a list in print.
The list I have to compile is embarrassingly filled with dead white men. Well, not embarrassingly, I guess because reading these book shaped me and if I’m embarrassed of them, I’m embarrassed of myself. Oh, wait.
I’ve been thinking about just not doing a list, but that seems like a cop out. I don’t know why I feel it’s imperative. Maybe it’s the relentlessness “everyone’s doing it” of Facebook. Oh peer pressure, you are an insistent and fickle tormentor.
So here goes. I’m trying to be as honest as I can with this list, which in itself seems like a pose. Sigh.
1. Spider-Man comics, specifically the 1982 run that featured the romance of Peter Parker and the Black Cat.
2. Phu Nam, Sgt. Barry Sadler.
3. Salem’s Lot, Stephen King
4. East of Eden, John Steinbeck.
5. The Stories of Breece D’J Pancake
6. A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway
7. The Stories Of Raymond Carver
8. The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
9. The Sprawl Trilogy (Neuromancer, Count Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive), William Gibson
10. Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy
11. The Black Dahlia, James Ellroy
I stuck this record on my iPod on a whim. It popped up the other day and I have to admit, I was struck with a few moments of nostalgic bliss. And after the nostalgic bliss subsided I found myself newly impressed with this record. I wore it out when I was 19 or 20, after a few years of hating the Indigo Girls. You see, I used to be in a band that was two singers and one guy on guitar. We did a lot of close harmony and the group most people put us in with was the Indigo Girls. I hated them until I went to see Bob Mould on Mountain Stage one Sunday afternoon . The Indigo Girls were also on the bill.
I was resigned to suffer through them if it meant seeing one of my songwriting idols solo acoustic. Well, they blew me away and I was a fan. It didn’t hurt that The Girl Who Would Ruin My Life loved them as well. My relationship with her started sometime in the nearish future after that. Specifically, she loved Nomads, Indians, Saints and it was the soundtrack to ll the things we did together through the spring semester of 1991. THen she went back to Ocean City to wait tables for the summer and broke my heart by sleeping with some dude she worked with. I wonder what ever happened to Carrie Morgan….?
Anyway, needless to say Nomads was sullied forever after and I don’t think I’ve listened to a note until the other day. And now I have it on loud and it’s pretty darn great. Great singing, writing and just the kinda raw we rarely hear these days. Makes me feel bad I was too crowd-phobic to go out and see the Girls play a free show in town last summer.
I’ve been rolling through speakers recently and DIY speaker building came across my radar about a week or two ago. I was super impressed with how cheaply you could buy a set of speakers that, by nearly all reports, sounded fantastic. So I decided to give the Overnight Sensations a try.
I ordered the kit from Parts Express with all the doo-dads I would need otherwise (soldering iron, solder, glue, screws, etc.) and got out the door at less than $250. I’m not much of a wood worker. I’m handy around the house, but not really a builder. I got a D in shop class when I was in Jr. High. I was building a shelf. It wasn’t much, but I was determined to try this speaker thing.
The kit came on Friday of last week. I decided to put the sides and back of the box together first, since I was going to paint the fronts a different color and I thought it would be easier to do that if the front wasn’t attached. This would prove to be a mistake, but not a terrible one.
I got to the crossovers on Sunday. I woke up ready and willing to spend all day on them, forgoing all other household duties to get them done. I started at about 10 am with a cup of coffee and all my supplies laid out in front of me. I watched the Parts Express video. Um, it stops halfway through putting together the tweeter crossover and moves at lightning speed through the rest of the crossover build. I tried stopping it in key places to see if I could make out what was happening, but it didn’t do a lot of good. So I decided to look online for photos of an assembled crossover. I found a lot of them, but I also discovered that the kit is shipping with a few different parts than it used to, so I had to figure out which was which. And I discovered that there are about a million ways to put these things together, at least in the looks and layout department.
But I persevered. Why didn’t I just look at the wiring diagram? Because I’ve never read one before, so it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m a musician and small time recording engineer, but I’ve never done much more than wire stuff together with patch cables. The only soldering experience I had came 25 years ago when I was interning in a studio soldiering patch cables. But I looked at the video and other designs online for long enough that the crossover started to make a little sense, enough that I could look at the wiring diagram and make some sense of it. So I did that and finally got the thing loose wired together. I hooked up a speakers and the Lepai amp and tested. It worked! First time out of the gate! Patience proved successful. I never knew I had it in me.
After that bit of progress I wired up the second crossover using the first as a template and then I soldered it all together. It was 4:30pm. Only took me about 5 hours of staring at the things to get them together. After that I got a couple coats of paint on the boxes and the baffles and I called it a day.
Yesterday I decided I was going to finish, I got the crossovers into the boxes, I wired them up to the binding posts and speakers and tested again. Still worked! So I soldered and set to gluing the baffles on.
I was using Gorilla Glue, which I knew from doing the boxes would bubble out the sides as it cured, so I got the baffles on and waited. I wiped what came out (I tried using just a little, but I guess not little enough), and went off to left them dry. A couple hours later I came down to the workshop to find that there was more. So here’s where things started going a little pear-shaped.
I used a Rustoleum metallic paint for the baffles and even though it had been more than 24 hours since I finished the paint, the paint still took my fingerprints as I glued the baffles. That plus the glue made it necessary to touch up. The results were not pro quality, but still, they turned out OK. Not bad for my first go. I have them in my office now and they sound decidedly better than the Bose Companion 2s I had been using.
Now I need to figure out what to build next weekend. I’m leaning toward the Hitmakers, but I’m also thinking about the Amigas. Right now I have a set of JBL LS308 on my mixing desk. Tempting to try the Hitmakers in their place. I have a set of Klipsch RF-82II in the living room. The Amigas are a tempting replacement for them…
I have to admit, I read this story, about a man who disappeared into the woods for almost 30 years, with not a little envy. I can’t quite figure out what it is, but there’s a part of me that very desperately wants to disappear. I guess it’s not all that hard to figure out. 42-year-old man, husband, father of two, with satisfying job as jobs go, but never achieved what I dreamed I might achieve, and I see in the life this man lived the manifestation of real freedom. Or at least that’s what it seems like I see. True, the guy survived by stealing from people–he once stole a kid’s Halloween candy–but there’s a pull to it, the thought that you could float away and untether yourself from the world.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the public life I’ve made for myself as an advocate, a public figure in some small way, a performer…whatever…and how dissatisfied I’ve been with that life. How dissatisfied I’ve always been with that life, and how it daily feeds into my mania to be noticed. I can psychoanalyze myself and have an intellectual understanding of why I have these desires. I’m an adopted kid in a man’s body. I still have a deep need to be loved because some part of me feels like I started life unloved or unwanted. I want you to want me.
And knowing that makes me sick to my stomach. Slowly, over the past several weeks, I’ve made attempts at stepping back from my “public life.” I’ve limited my time on Facebook, which I recognize as the worst of all the social medias. Facebook is constant posturing, insidious in its fake mundanity. I’ve stopped thinking about education advocacy. I’ve stopped putting myself in the position to even talk about schools. I can’t bring myself to think about music very much, at least my writing of music. I’m working on a novel, but that alone feels like and act of disappearance.
I just can’t do it anymore because it makes me unhealthy in my mind. I look at the news, all the violence and injustice, all the vehement online repostings and soapboxing, and I just can’t do it. I have this mental image of my mind, a decomposing corpse, slightly green, mostly goo, going through some kind of St. Vitus Dance of online indignation tourettes just to pass the time until I can go buy something else to soothe my existential ennui.
And I wonder why disappearing into the woods for 30 years seems attractive? But it’s not an option. I’ve gotta find a way to disappear while remaining present, active, and whole. I have to find a way to love life and leave the bad stuff behind.
Once again, Ryan Adams proves himself to be the most uncanny mimic of rock n roll songwriting style I have ever heard. He tiptoes that line between aping his influences shamelessly and writing songs informed by his influences more adeptly than I thought possible.
I felt this way about his songwriting in Whiskeytown and on early solo records, and I always thought he’d grow out of aping and find a voice and sound of his own. Not yet, I guess.
The insidious thing is, he’s good enough that I find myself really liking the stuff. Then I realize that it not so much I like what he’s doing as I like what he’s borrowing and he’s good enough to copy it so well I’m willing to accept it as analogous to the original.
In my mind, this is something like masterful forgeries of paintings. Some of the artists who make the copies are talented, but no matter how talented, their work is still a recreation masquerading as the real thing. But pop music has a short memory; Ryan gets away with it again and again.
There are probably some of you who are thinking, “Hey, music is about borrowing. Just look at folk music, the blues, etc.” Yes, you’re right. But the difference between that and what Ryan does is the difference between imitation and interpretation. His sonic signatures, vocal timbre, even visual delivery (see the video) so closely resemble the source material that it enters the realm of plagiarism, not homage.
Sounds like this new record is his attempt at co-opting Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers circa late 70s-early 80s.
My friend Jay posted this on facebook and it distills something very basic in why I love the Beatles so much and why I’ve always just appreciated the Stones.
“…the Beatles were hard men too. Brian Epstein cleaned them up for mass consumption, but they were anything but sissies. They were from Liverpool, which is like Hamburg or Norfolk, Virginia–a hard, sea-farin’ town, all these dockers and sailors around all the time who would beat the piss out of you if you so much as winked at them. Ringo’s from the Dingle, which is like the fucking Bronx. The Rolling Stones were the mummy’s boys–they were all college students from the outskirts of London. They went to starve in London, but it was by choice, to give themselves some sort of aura of disrespectability. I did like the Stones, but they were never anywhere near the Beatles–not for humour, not for originality, not for songs, not for presentation. All they had was Mick Jagger dancing about. Fair enough, the Stones made great records, but they were always shit on stage, whereas the Beatles were the gear.”
I’m from West Virginia. It’s a hard place, too. It’s a place where you have to scrape just to get by. The very ground is against you, but people find a way to make it. And WV also has a kind of redheaded stepchild mentality. The folks there never feel like they’re quite good enough and they’re always trying to clean up for the neighbors. And in a way that’s what the Bealtles did. Maybe it was Brian, but I know what it feels like to be a kid from a poor place who wants to fit in, be popular, and all that. And the Beatles had the chops to do it.
I’m not saying the Stones were posers, exactly, but they were rebelling against safety by trying to be the opposite of what they were: poor, hard scrabble kids who wanted to sound like the records they loved. That’s totally valid. The Beatles did the same thing in the opposite direction, and to me the results were wildly more compelling.
My music listening situation has been driving me crazy for quite some time. I’ve gone through several phones, Android and iPhone, and all the time I have been miserable trying to listen to music. First, none of the devices had enough space to put a decent amount of tunes on, so I tried a curated selection of albums. But the music got stale pretty quickly and I never made it back to the computer to change out the songs. Later I had a 32GB iPhone and still hated listening to music on it. Same goes for my Android experiences. More recently I’ve been going with streaming services. I really liked Mog but last year it was bought by Beats Audio and a few months ago it was decommissioned for the new Beats streaming service , which is predicated on mood listening and playlists. Moods and playlists seem to play a big role in the streaming audio ecosystem. I don’t care for either when listening. Maybe I’m just an old guy, but when I listen to music, I want to listen to albums. You know, those things that the musicians themselves sequenced into a listening experience for the record buying public. An album is like a novel to me in many ways. They’re meant to be experienced as a whole and playlists just don’t get there for me.
There’s always a song that I don’t feel like hearing, or I’m tired of the list and I lose interest. I’ve tried shuffling and the algorithms get stale for me. And the mood-based listening thing just doesn’t seem right. But I thought maybe I just needed to stick with a service for a while and once I built up a selection of stuff I’d be more satisfied. After Mog went away I tried Spotify, but didn’t like its focus on playlist, etc. After a brief foray over to Rdio, I came back to anything for a bit. But I found I was experiencing option anxiety. When faced with the possibility of listening to literally anything I was paralyzed and unable to really choose, so I’d default to a playlist or the radio function. And unhappy. I was routinely not hearing anything I felt like hearing, so I just wasn’t listening to anything. Sure there were brief periods where I got into something and enjoyed it, but there was no system, no process to it like there was back in the days of physical media and limited outlets for purchase.
Back in the 20th century I loved going to record stores and spending hours looking, touching, smelling, deciding how to spend my money. You were by something with limited resources. You had to make a choice and that choice would shape your day, your week. If you were lucky, it might become an addition to the soundtrack of your life. The stakes were high. Not so with digital streaming. You don’t have to make an investment monetarily or emotionally in digital media. You can’t hold it. You can’t smell it. You can’t think about what a girl or guy might think when flipping through your collection and finding it.
But those days are gone. I’m not going to rail on the bygone halcyon days of physical media. Vinyl’s making a comeback and I am adding to my collection all the time. But still I want music on the go, the same way I had when I carried a Walkman, then a Discman, and on and on, back when I had to carry tapes, cds, decide what was going into my bag that week. Sigh. But option anxiety and a parsing system that doesn’t fit with my worldview weren’t the only problems I had with my digital life in the fast, frenzied digital age. The technology itself was also a problem. Once I abandoned loading media onto my devices (and even before, really) the technology itself had trouble just simply working a lot of the time. Before you start thinking I’m an old luddite that can’t work his tech let me stop you. I know my stuff. I love tech. I futz with it all the times. I’m surprised my local Best Buy hasn’t banned me because I buy and return so much stuff. There isn’t a flagship device out there that I haven’t at least tried out, if not own; I know my tech.
Let’s see if this sounds familiar to you: You leave the house, rocking out to some great tunes. It’s really putting you where you need to be to get in the right headspace for the day and then….you leave your wifi coverage and switch to the cell network and the streaming service can’t keep up. Then you have to fight with the app to get it to play again. Mood ruined. Day off to a shitty start. Or you get in the car and you have your phone hooked up to the Bluetooth in the car to start playing when you get in. Only you’re pulling out of the driveway and…the music doesn’t start, so you endanger yourself and others trying to get it going. I have a set of bluetooth headphones but sometimes they’re fickle and sometimes they run out of juice and…no music. I’ve had enough.
It dawned on me I could do something drastic: I could move backwards. I could eschew my cell phone as a media player and use something that’s designed to be a media player and nothing else. I spent a couple days researching my options in new stuff and honestly the best option what, of course, the most expensive: the iPod Classic. I thought about the Nano, even the shuffle, but I didn’t want to run up against the barrier of space. And I didn’t even want the limited functionality of the Nano. I just wanted a hard drive with a UI that would serve me music. I’m sure there are boutique players out there that will give me better sound, but the iPod Classic is, well, classic. It hasn’t even been significantly altered since 2009. It’s had a few iterations, but basically it’s the same deal as it was back in the early days: A UI, a tiny screen, and a tiny hard drive. The most recent iteration of the iPod, the iPod Class 7th generation, has a 160GB hard drive and an updated UI, but it costs $249. $249 is a lot to lay down for a single-use device. It’s more than I paid for my phone. But that’s the old me talking, the me who was seduced by the all-in-one-ness of the smart phone.
I’ve had large iPods in the past. I had an 80GB about 7-8 years ago and experienced the same kind of option anxiety I did with streaming serviced, but something had to give. The dysfunctionality of streaming services when traveling was the last straw. So I started researching the Classic. I wanted to know if there was a difference in sound quality between the different models. Yes, in fact, there is. My internet searching revealed that the reason Video (5.5 gen) is considered by many to be the best sound quality by many. The big reason why, so the thinking goes, is the Wolfson DAC (digital audio conversion chip) that was used in the 5.5. Apple went away from that chip in the iPod 6th gen and switched to another chip. Internet reports were that the 7th gen iPod was using a Cirrus Logic chip, which are known to be high quality.
I do a lot of audio recording and production and Cirrus chips have become highly coveted DAC chips in audio interfaces starting with the Apogee Duet a while back. Internet chatter was that the Wolfson was a warmer chip while the Cirrus was more flat and perhaps clinical. I have an appreciation for both kids of sound. I use a Duet2 in my home recording rig and love the DAC in that unit, but I also love vinyl records and the warmer, more glued-together sound they offer. Kind of like choosing between dark and milk chocolate. Both are awesome in their own ways.
Knowing that I could get my whole collection on the 7th gen, I went to Best Buy anyway with the plan to get one. But I got cold feet. The price tag just gave me sticker shock. I decided to go around to the could of local game stops to see if they had any used classics. And lo and behold, I found a 30GB 5.5 for $49. Impossible to pass up. So I got it and a nice dock (and a couple used PS3 games) and didn’t even crack $100. I came home, loaded the thing full and set to enjoying some tunes. The 5.5 does indeed sound great. Very warm and coherent. I’m not a big believer in lossless being the end all be all of digital audio. Yes, it sounds better. But when you have 140GB of music already the jump in storage would be huge. And the effort in recreating my collection in lossless format would be prohibitive. I subscribed to iTunes match a while back and the biggest bonus of an iTunes Match subscription is that you can download higher bit rate versions of your low bit rate files. Since I started converting my cd collection to MP3 more than 10 years ago, I still had some 128K files. I created a smart play list that filtered anything that was lower than the 256K that iTunes Match stores in the cloud. I deleted all those files and then told Match to redownload the higher bit rate files. More than 10,000 songs.
A couple hours later I was ready to roll. I lay down on my bed, grabbed a book, put on my Grado SR80 headphones and proceeded to enjoy music without interruption. No streaming hangups, no email notifications, no phone calls, no facebook, just me and music. I’d forgotten how nice that could be. I was in heaven for the rest of the night. But the lure of the 160GB 7th gen continue to pull me. So I went out and got one. Sure enough, it took a few hours, but my whole collection went on with a little room to spare. I don’t have much room to expand, but I’ll deal with that. The 7th gen is indeed not as wooly sounding as the 5.5. I A/B’d them for a while yesterday, listening to the same songs on each through the SR80s. Both sound very nice. I can’t really say one sound better or worse than the other. Just ever so slightly different, but good. I feel like I can be happy with either and never want for anything sound-wise.
So now that I have 2 iPods. I think I’ll keep them both and party like it’s 2006.
And so The Rodeo Bar in NYC will no longer have live music after this month. I learned how to be a bandleader and play in a band on that stage. Playing from 10-2 or 3am, 3 sets, buckets of Lone Star onstage, tequila shots delivered to the stage multiple times a night. Our A set, our B set with polished covers and then…stump the band in set 3. It was truly a fantastic place to learn the craft.
We used to make great money at Rodeo. Five hundred bills a night. That place single handedly made Star City run and turned us into whatever we were. We played a lot of great places throughout the years, but Rodeo was home. I always felt loved and appreciated there, and in a town like NYC–hell, anywhere when you’re a musician trying to make something happen–that was worth more than I can really put to words.
A sad day. NYC is a little less the town I loved and a little more the place I’m glad I left.
A couple weeks ago I passed a small milestone: two years of sobriety. I’m not going to get into the details of how long or how much I drank, or how low I had to get before I made that change. Rehashing my weakness and folly isn’t the point of this blog post. Let it suffice to say that I grew up around folks who struggled with alcohol–family, friends. My own struggle was informed by those struggles and at a certain point, I knew I reached a place where to take another drink would be losing everything I cared about. And so I stopped. I sought professional help and attended AA meetings. It was an incredible challenge, but today I sit two years and counting without a drink.
In addition to my artistic life, I also have a small public life as an advocate in our local school district. Last year I ran for the school board and didn’t win, but I continue to be active through various projects and maintaining a connection to the day-to-day issues. It means a lot to me to be active in that arena. Education gave me so many opportunities. Books and music opened up avenues of exploration that have taken me to places I never imagined. I look back on 43 years of life as an artist and educator and I’m proud of the work I’ve done.
Last week a community member contacted me through social media. She voiced concerns about my alcoholism. She expressed that as a sober person of relatively recent vintage perhaps I wasn’t fit to hold a leadership role. That’s fine. I respect her opinion. She’s entitled to those concerns. Many of the points she made about alcoholism were valid. She rightly pointed out that two years isn’t a long time to be sober and that many people return to drinking even after years of sobriety. All of that’s true. I won’t dispute any of it.
What I will dispute is this: Being an alcoholic does not disqualify me from being alive or from being an active, productive member of my community, and to suggest such, especially using the language of addiction and recovery as weapons, is just north of despicable. Or maybe just south. It’s at least manipulative and predatory bullying behavior.
My status vis a vis alcohol doesn’t make me unfit for service, nor does it mean I should retreat from public life and hide myself away. In fact, I’d argue that my struggle to overcome my addiction makes me a stronger and better person than I would have been had I not engaged that struggle. The lessons I’ve learned from my struggle are myriad, but I need only look to the Serenity Prayer that closes each Alcoholics Anonymous meeting for perhaps the most important:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
I can’t change the fact that I used to drink. I can’t change the mistakes I made. I can’t change the fact that drinking will always be a part of who I am, whether I’m sober or not; it has left an indelible mark on me. I accept that.
What I can change is this moment and the next, embracing the here and now with appreciation and reverence. I can live each day knowing it’s a gift. And each day I can choose not to drink. As a teacher, that’s a lesson that can be broadly applied. As an artist, I feel it in the the breadth and depth of the mystery of human life more acutely than I could have prior to my sobriety.
All of us are recovering from something–the cancer survivor, the war veteran, the child of divorce, on and on, the examples are too numerous to list–all of us have wounds to heal, challenges to overcome. “Let he who has known no sin cast the first stone,” so the scripture goes. I’ve faced my challenges, owned up to my sins, made reparations where I could, and every day I endeavor to move one step further. Only I can know my path. Only I can learn the lessons it teaches me. But I can share those lessons and hope that they help other in some way. And there is value in sharing my journey in whatever way I can.
Ultimately, I don’t write this to defend myself. I don’t apologize for who I am or what it took to get me here. I own my recovery and make no excuses. Instead, I write this to those of us who are recovering, that is to say, all of us, no matter what we are recovering from. Don’t hide. Don’t be made to feel you are unworthy. Your story can teach. Your struggle can inform, inspire and cast healing light. Take care of yourself, but in doing so care for others. Share your damage. Share your wisdom. Don’t let anyone tell you that survival is enough. It’s not. Don’t just survive, thrive.
We all have something to give. I’m going to continue to share my damage and my hope despite the doubts others may have. Each day is a gift and that’s the gift I give in return.