"There is no greater danger, than trying to find yourself. 'Cause there is no stranger Stranger, than a man is...........to himself." from Kevin Welch's song "Anna Lise, Please"
"You don't want to get mixed up with a guy like me. I'm a loner, Dottie. A rebel. So long Dott." Pee Wee Herman
One of the things that I hope I've learned in my 41 years on Earth, is that there is always more. More to people, I mean. We see these images that people put forth, ways that they wish to be seen. But there's always more. Sometimes these images, impressions, displays, quirks or just plain behaviors are defense mechanisms, protecting the person from lingering hurts, age old wounds, unrelenting sorrows. Things they don't want you to see. People want to seem strong. Or funny. Or smart. Or talented. Or like they've got it all together. Sometimes we make judgements about people based on the image they put out there for the world to see. But be very careful. Don't judge too quickly. You may miss out on something or someone awesome. Because there's always more, down deep. On the surface, there's the How of their behavior. But down deep, if you're willing to wait for the rest to melt away, there's also the Why of their behavior. And the Why is always more interesting than the surface How. And if we just look deeper, we'll find the real Who, hiding under the façade.
So Who's hiding under my façade?
I stumbled upon a video on youtube today. To be more precise, I went looking for it and found it there. It's a song called "Sing Me to Heaven." We sang it, and sang, it, and cried it, and prayed it back in choir at MSSC (now MSSU). Before the video started, I wondered if it would seem a bit pretentious to me now, now that I listen to and make almost exclusively folk music. "Sing Me to Heaven" is classical, and beautiful, and dripping with emotion and sensitivity. I don't make or listen to anything like it anymore. Oh, but I used to. For years (too many to admit) I made that kind of music every single day. I was the Tenor Section Leader for, well.........let's just call it a long time. That music was a part of me, and not a small part. It was huge. And I loved it. That was classical greg, and I guess I didn't know before watching that video if he still lived. He does. It was a beautiful arrangement, nearly identical to the way the MSSC Chamber Choir interpreted it so long ago. And, though I'm not in the video, classical greg very well could have been.
The people in my social circle now know that I was a music major in college. There's even a running joke that all my stories I tell at work begin with the phrase "When I was in college......" And those are often tales of making music with the MSSC Choir, or tales of one of my two trips to Europe performing with that choir. But they don't know that greg. They know the greg who listens to music you'd never hear on the radio, and who now writes very folky music.......that you'll also never hear on the radio. But they don't know classical greg at all. And I wonder what they'd think of him. I wonder what they'd think of that music. I wonder what they'd think of classical greg. These days, if I make music at all, it's me pulling out my tenor guitar, or even ukulele, and singing something stripped down, simple, folksy. But I remember how I used to take the stage for a student recital back at MSSC. Classical greg would often be attired in a tuxedo. I'd walk to the center of the stage, eyes focused on nothing in particular. I'd slowly put my left foot in place on my mark, then bring my right foot in to match, and then slowly gaze up toward the back of the auditorium. To me, it always felt like I captured the room in that moment, at that first gaze up from taking my mark. Then, I opened up my soul. They were mine. First I'd capture the audience, then lay myself bare before them, utterly vulnerable, holding nothing back.
I guess that's what I've always thought my true gift was. Connection. Communication. Sharing Emotion. Sure, I can sing. But in the scheme of things, and compared to many I studied with, my voice was and is nothing special. The special of it all was that I was willing and gifted to open my soul to the audience, to give them every ounce of me to share that musical and even spiritual moment with them. To be known.
And they would know me, in that moment. They would know that greg. But would my grandparents? My aunts and uncles, my cousins? The guys I used to play ball with? Would they recognize that greg? And would those who loved classical greg recognize folk greg, or sports fan greg? I'm not sure. And I'm not sure it matters. There were and are many gregs. Classical greg. Folk greg. Sports fan greg. Mentor greg. Soaring greg. Fallen greg. So many me's. But all me, nonetheless. And, on occasion, I do long for someone to truly know all those facets of me.
Here are a few videos of music beloved by the various gregs:
Classical greg loves this one, "Sing Me to Heaven"
Folk greg loves this one, "The Artisan" by Seth Lakeman (on tenor guitar;)
Also, this is folk greg singing Eric Peter's song, "Tomorrow" from whence that 1st quote of this blog comes.
