Hallelujah

So musically speaking…who am i? This is a question I have to ask myself every single day, and some days are more urgent for an answer than others. And the thing is, the answer isn’t always the same thing. One day, I’m strictly a blues guitarist. The next, I’m a bluegrass rhythm player. And the day after that, I’m a vocalist, and then I’m a perfectionist and everything has to be tight. And then other days I’m a rugged anything goes guitar slinger. The interesting thing comes when I think about the genetic makeup of who I am musically speaking.

I recently got the privilege to observe The Sounds of Liberty perform. They are all talented and just did an amazing job. But it started making the “who am I” wheels start to turn. They are just so polished. And I had to ponder about that. I am just not that way. I am not a polished, shined musician. And I have to ask myself, is it just because I’m a toddler in musician years, and that perhaps with time that polish will come; only years of buffing and sanding have taken place. Or am I always going to be a sloppy, rough, and cut up musician for the rest of my life. I feel like I’m a boxer who just got beat up in the ring and then went to a steak dinner at a nice restaurant without having cleaned up first. Just that out of place, feeling.

And it leads down an interesting road. The road is dark and scary, and seemingly consequential. But am I destined to be this way forever? Is it a choice I have? Truthfully, I don’t have the desire to be like that. Like some people just look so pretty when they sing. Eyes closed, just so together with what’s inside them. And I’m not like that. I wish I could be. I wish that I didn’t make stupid facial expressions when I sing. But the thing is, it’s only through those facial expressions that I get out what’s inside. And what’s inside is this desperate excuse of a man chasing God and figuring out what it means to Love him.

When it comes to God I’ve tried everything. Religion, church, good works, everything. The only thing I haven’t really given a shot is to just Love him. Just strip away everything, all the shagginess that drips from me, strip away all the flowers, and just Love God. And I don’t even know how to do that.

And what’s left? A musician with identity disorders who just Loves God.

Hallelujah