Dear New and Returning Readers,
As you know, I only blog when I have something meaningful to write, whether it’s about work or life. This one, like most of my posts, is a applicable to both…
I recently went to a Sofar Sounds concert and if you’ve never been, it is a concert of 3 unknown artists in an intimate, small setting. It being my first one, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was soon delighted to learn that the show was so small and so intimate that they had no mics or any amplifying equipment.
The first artist mentioned when she sang what we heard would really be her since there were no mics. It very much reminded me of MTV’s Unplugged even though they did have mics and speakers. I remember watching a retrospective about when Tori Amos was on MTV Unplugged, it ended up being such a vulnerable experience for her that she freaked out shortly after she started her set and left in the middle to compose herself for a few minutes before coming back. She wasn’t prepared for how exposed she’d feel. Like Tori, this first artist said something similar because before each song she'd explain the back story of why she wrote the song or what was going on in her life while the audience was a mere 10 feet in front of her.
The first two artists I enjoyed very much and the third artist, he was very talented, but my least favorite; maybe because it was his genre of music or I just didn’t relate to his songs as the first two artists.
He came from a very musical background. His dad was a choir director, ran the marching band, his dad played several instruments, etc. However, despite his dad being very gifted, he found himself not as musically inclined. Traditional school was not his cup of tea, and even going to music school was still very hard for him. He tried a couple of instruments, tried to follow in his father’s footsteps, and gave up on music.
It wasn’t until a random trip to a grocery store much later that he had an epiphany. He went to the store to get bread, Oroweat Honey Bread was his favorite. And as he was grabbing the loaf of bread, he noticed the numerous types of breads there were. He told himself, “You don’t have to be the best; get on the shelf.”
And that mantra, “get on the shelf,” stuck with me. It really marinated in my mind because of the unexpected inspirational lesson, from the musician I liked the least (and the crowd seemed to like the most).
But after some thought over a few days, I began to have a different perspective, a total shift in perspective. One, because honey bread would not be my favorite bread at all because it sounds so sweet. And two, my friend entered a baking contest and was really sad that she didn't win. I was trying to think of what to say to console her when I would see her later. While that last singer/songwriter used the mantra as a way to allow himself to start, to become a musician, and give himself permission even though he knew he would never be the best, I heard a better lesson. While Oroweat Honey Bread was HIS favorite bread, everyone else has a different favorite bread and that’s why so many varieties, types, and flavors are sold.
So after much thought, the message became, for me, and what I told my friend: You are someone’s favorite…
