Seek and Ye Shall Find...

I often marvel at how marvelously successful people can act so humble. People like Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Jayhawks men’s basketball coach Bill Self, and a Royals pitcher named Joakim Soria just don’t seem to have big heads. Like, at all.

I think that humility comes from four main sources: competitive perspective – there are other people just as good or better at what one does; cosmic/religious perspective – to the greatness of a deity/size of the universe, one’s individual greatness is as nothing; the understanding that there’s always room for improvement – no one is perfect; and frequency of failure – successful people often fail far more frequently than so-called “failures.”

I’ve felt for a while that I’ll be able to move forward faster in my life if I find humility, so I’ve been searching for it, and I think that I’ve finally found it thanks to the fourth cause of humility – frequency of failure. I’m now an academic coach - what most people call a tutor – and, boy, have I found humility. Most days, even if I understand perfectly the subject matter that I’m teaching, I leave my sessions wondering if I’ve done even the slightest bit of good and wondering if I’ve communicated effectively. Sure, I’ve had a moment of triumph - I found out that one of my students got a B on his Spelling test when he hadn’t passed a single one to that point. Even so, doubts like the following constantly run through my head: “I have six students, and it’s about to be seven. I surely can’t feel that one success with one student means that I’m succeeding with them all. How do I know if I’m doing them any real good? Can’t the rate of improvement always be a little bit higher? Am I moving too fast?

The frequency of failure truly hits home as I practice piano daily. I focus on playing all the notes at the right times, try to balance the volume in both hands, yet I still make hundreds of little mistakes in the hour or so that I practice. Coaching academics gives me so much opportunity to fail. I think, then, that the success is in learning. Success is understanding that failure never has to stop motion. My communications instructor during college says, “Just work to post quality content. Do nothing more. Just try to post quality content.” So, that’s what I try to do with my blog, tweets, with anything that I post on Facebook, with any comment that I make on the radio, and what I do when I try to write songs.

In my efforts to post quality content, I fail so much. I could always say something a little bit better or find a clearer or briefer way to express my thoughts, but I have to fail. I have to fail before I can succeed; and, no matter how much I succeed, more failures wait to creep up and bite me. I was teaching voice lessons to a group of wonderful ladies. Yet, one by one, they dropped out. It’s most likely that they really have just gotten too busy, but I still can’t help but feel that if I’d made the product attractive enough that they’d have found time to continue. It’s not like we didn’t have fun, and they certainly produced more quality sound as we went along, and it’s not like they stopped lessons right after starting. If I ever get to teach voice lessons again, though, I’ve certainly learned what I’ll do differently, even if I never get to work with those ladies again. The loss of the opportunity feels like a very humbling failure.

Bamba Blindside

He didn’t even speak Spanish…

Last night, I saw a movie about Ritchie Valens. That Rock n’ Roll pioneer.

I’m not a rock star. Perhaps, I’ll never be. But, as a passionate music lover and semi-pro musician, hanging out with a couple of Mexican friends who love Ritchie’s music, I felt connected to “my roots.” I felt like I was learning about my history.

Why it hadn’t registered in my head that it was Ritchie Valens, the original “La Bamba” guy, was one of the people who died in Clear Lake, I’m not sure…

“The day the music died.”

Watching the movie, all that I knew from the exposition of the film, and from my friends, was that Ritchie was the “La Bamba” guy… but then, when the film showed a guy with glasses about to board a plane during a snowstorm, and a big fella who vaguely resembled a guy whom I vaguely remembered from a video clip of “Chantilly Lace” that I’d seen about 10 years ago, it suddenly hit me… and the moment of realization and shock pressed on me almost as if it had just happened…. Valens was getting on a plane with Buddy Holly… and the Big Bopper*… oh my lord… no… the day the music died…

*Note: Talk about “stealing black music.” Listen to “White Lightning” recorded by the Big Bopper. Just… wow.

And Waylon Jennings could’ve been on that plane. For those who follow me on Twitter*, you got a tease of this entry. To think how those guys, Waylon for example, used the time that they perhaps could’ve never had… If life isn’t random sometimes, explain to me how a coin toss gave us Waylon, Shooter, etc. Try to imagine country music history with out the name Jennings. Then try to imagine rock n’ roll history with more Ritchie Valens. Either result of the coin toss gives us a major plus, and a major sadness.

*Shameless plug: @mapnmusicman

Now, think of the music that we’ll never get to hear form Ritchie. He was a hell of a guitar player. We got Waylon. In a way, from now on, when I hear Waylon’s music, I feel like I’ll be hearing a piece of Ritchie, of Buddy Holly, of the Big Bopper.

I’d been wondering, off and on, about the mystique of things that will never be but could’ve been… what if Mickey Mantle (baseball reference, kids) hadn’t drunk away a good chunk of his health and gotten knee problems? What if Ritchie Valens hadn’t died? Now, I think that I understand… It seems that there’s a personal connection to the loss of the glorious things that could’ve been. We are all united in this loss. It always feels new and fresh. I could hardly get to sleep last night… the power of that realization, and to lose Ritchie, and the fact that there was a little miscommunication when one of my friends told me that the actor was still alive and I misheard him and thought that he meant that Ritchie was still alive… The death of the hope of seeing Ritchie somewhere in his old age crushed me, and thinking about all of the great music that he could’ve made… Perhaps he would’ve learned Spanish and, today, there’d be more blending of Mexican and White music. Perhaps he would’ve flamed out after a couple more hits… But, his guitar ability makes me think not. RIP Ritchie. To me, you just died. Thank you for the music.

Making Up Rules

Perhaps there isn’t a lot to say this time. My last project was to try to lessen my clutter. I did fairly well; I got rid of two grocery bag sizes of trash. I felt, at first, like the whole project was just moving too slowly. I felt like all that I was really doing was getting my junk count down to where it was when I moved from my old house. Let’s face it; one is always acquiring more junk. Advertising in the mail, pay stubs, bank receipts, for me things like sheet music, show programs. How does one decide what’s necessary and what isn’t? Well, for starters, some of my junk was from my financial advisor, so I called her and asked if some of those generic mail-outs were necessary to keep. She said no, so that got rid of a handful of booklets.

One thing that I have going for me at the moment is that I’m really starting to enjoy having floor space in my bedroom. Currently, the boxes of junk are in the living room, and I’m doing the sorting there. I feel much more creatively free with space in my bedroom. I feel more inclined to sit down at my keyboard and play… the reader will recall that one of my current intentions is to make playing the piano a daily part of my life. Which reminds me that I need to get some playing in before I leave to call the football game tonight. Fire pit time awaits me after I get back from the game, so I probably won’t do any playing tonight.

In any case, I feel pretty good about the progress that I’ve made. I think that, if I achieve my ends in this junk sorting project, I’ll reward myself with a carrot cake. Oh, yeah.

One of the things that I accomplished was clearing off the top of my roll-top desk (yes, I have one of those.) I put my CDs (yes, I have those) on little horizontal racks so that they’re properly displayed and the top of my roll-top looks much better. I could get accustomed to this improved organization.

The rule that I’m making up is that I’m going to extend this project. I feel that, though it’s good to not get stuck on one thing, it is good to see a project through. I feel that this project is probably the most important short-term one that I’ve undertaken to this point. It’s so important because it speaks to three larger issues: 1) overall organization of possessions, 2) future freedom, and 3) lessening of stress. To not have all that junk weighing me down will really help my stress levels. I’ve got a box of stuff to donate that’s already 1/8 full, and I still have 5 boxes to sort through. Well, really, it’s about 4, but it feels like more because some of those boxes are small. Some things have found places to belong, and the resultant organization is very pacifying.

Note: This article is written in the present tense from last Friday, when I intended to publish it.

Baby Steps

I love my housemate. He’s a terrific listener and offers marvelous insights. In college, he was a member of the cross country team and has maintained his conditioning. This commitment taught him a lot, it seems, and I’m now the beneficiary of a big pearl of wisdom.

He and I were talking about this mutual acquaintance of ours, and I mentioned how she talked about working out. He was a little surprised, and said, I didn’t think that her body looked like the type of a person who makes working out a regular part of her life. He said that he can tell by looking at a person how committed he/she is to working out. He said, for a lot of people, they work out for a little while, super hard core for a couple of weeks, and then they flame out. I jumped the gun and correctly guessed that he could tell that I was such a person.

I was fascinated by this concept because it seemed to speak to a larger issue in my life… the inability to completely follow through on personal improvement plans. This whole three days’ focus series is a way for me to be focused on being productive. To this point, I’ve had success with the three days’ focus series because it has ensured that I, at the very least, start projects. I find this to be an effective method, especially for little projects that can be completed, largely, in three days’ time. However…

The last three days’ focus project was to focus on playing the piano. I’d said that I wanted to achieve 15 hours of practice time towards that magical 10,000-hour target which, when achieved, would probably put me at the level of piano mastery (note that I’m not saying virtuosity). In looking at my progress, I tabulated 2 hours and 15 minutes. Now, if I took the measurements and compared them to my goal, surely I would consider this last project a failure. But, I don’t, and it’s because of my conversation with my housemate.

You see, in that discussion, Housemate mentioned that, to really make something a part of your life, you want to start out small and simply commit to it. I played piano on each of the three days. If I make the piano playing a daily thing, then, perhaps, some days, I’ll practice much more than 25 or 50 minutes. If I tabulate those times, perhaps by the end of the year I’ll be close to 1,000 hours. Perhaps, in coming years, I’ll commit even more and reach 10,000 hours after 5 or 6 years. At that time, I’ll still be in my early thirties, and have the rest of my life to let the keys help me to go wherever I want to go!

In speaking of going wherever I want to go, today I started a new three days’ focus project. The reader may recall that one of my earlier entries was “Clutter Confrontation,” in which I described my attempts to de-clutter my bedroom, making it more livable. I made moderate progress at the time, and now I’m going whole hog. I’ve hauled 98% of the boxes of junk out of my bedroom and started asking myself questions like “What can I do with this?” “Is there somewhere in my house that this can belong?” I feel that working on this project and organizing the junque (misspelling intentional. Junque refers to junk that isn’t worthless… it’s just in the way) will enable me to move about the world more freely. I have no plans to settle permanently in Salina, and, when I do move, I want my move to be relatively stress-free, and having control over my possessions will make that much more likely. So, for today, tomorrow, and the next day, I’m doing battle with my past that I might have a more stress free future. ¡Olé!