Even I don’t know what I’m on about tonight
They say that dogs have an uncanny eye for when they’re being cheated. Dogs will pay attention to what treats the other dogs are getting and they’ll get all caught up in that unfairness and start whimpering. But dogs also are supposed to be all buddhist and in the now and all that, so I’m kinda confused. Plus, they sniff butts.
What I can say is that the secret is in the doing. Which means get home from work, pick up the guitar and work at fleshing out all those songs I’ve written over the years, try to get a good and reasonably flawless set of them together, and then find someplace to play them and hope that some people show up and that I’m good enough that they not only stay in the room and not walk out mid-set, but maybe come back for a second helping sometime later.
I was going to post a bunch of negative stuff. Instead, I’ll say that it’s great that certain people can fast track their successes. As for me, well, I’m such a slow learner. Hell, I dunno. Maybe I’ll keep after it for all the time I have left, and then after I’m gone, someone will listen to what I’ve left behind and go, “Meh. Guy’s stuff wasn’t very good.” Which will be okay with me.
Because even if you suck, that’s not the point. The point is that you gave it a shot, that you kept after it, that you tried to get as good or as non-sucky as it was humanly possible for you to achieve, and that even in the face of not getting a biscuit or petted or anything, you still got up and worked at whatever it is that makes your soul feel complete.
Ah, gosh darn. This isn’t what I’d planned to write. I’ve got a head full of grander designs, but my body has been feeling really crummy all week, so I get home and fall asleep and then wake up and meditate, which is one thing I’ve been disciplined enough to do every day for three years and nearly three months, and then I try to write, which is something I’m trying to discipline myself to do on a more regular schedule.
Anyway, more later, when I’ve got more life in me. Time to crawl off to bed, methinx. —Jackson Griffith