Creating a Memorable Life
The natural overflow of something we love—My Sunday Best #137
“Being with real people who warm us, who endorse and exalt our creativity, is essential to the flow of creative life. Otherwise, we freeze.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With Wolves
Not very long ago, I used to suffer from terrible stage fright. The first time was in 5th grade at the school talent show. I froze—my feet glued to the wooden floor for the longest three minutes of my life. I can still hear my classmates laughing while the other two girls performed the entire song without me.
I survived. Somehow, I made it through high school speech class—thin notebook paper trembling in my hands, my voice threatening to break into tears at any moment.
Years later, my former band teacher handed me a bass guitar because he needed a bass player in the church worship band. I was still very nervous on stage. I was also writing songs, but when it came time to sing them for people, I would totally lose my voice.
Since those days, I’ve overcome stage fright by doing the very thing that scared me—again and again—with persistent nudging from my husband (who isn’t afraid to push me straight into deep water).
For more than twenty years now, I’ve been learning to sink or swim on stage.
I actually love being on stage now—playing music, connecting, being a part of something that makes me and others feel good.
From the moment I was born until now, I have been making something out of nothing. Sometimes I turn a molehill into a mountain, just making life up as I go along—a constant choosing of one thing over another.
Should I go left or right, stop or go, speak or not, laugh or cry? Life is always choosing something, and it’s not always about doing; sometimes, it’s just being. Even doing nothing is a choice. And through every choice, I’ve been creating a life.
I used to think creativity was something artists did—painters, sculptors, actors, and performers. But now, I know that creativity lives in everyday life. It naturally emerges when we do what we love.
It isn’t optional—it’s as essential as breathing.
“It is the love of something, having so much for something — whether a person, a word, an image, an idea, the land or humanity — that all that can be done with the overflow is to create. It is not a matter of wanting to, not a singular act of will; one solely must.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Last night we played a gig at a little local restaurant that feels like home. It never feels like work there. The sound is easy. The atmosphere is laid back. Our audience converses with us, suggesting songs and making jokes.
We almost canceled. Mickey was suffering from allergies and didn’t have a voice. I had hurt my back on Christmas Eve, and wasn’t sure I could even push the button on my tuner with my foot or hold my bass for three hours. I joked that we were the “walking wounded” band last night.
However, being surrounded by real people who warmed us just by being there made me forget my back and breathe easier—held by music, by community, even by the tiniest little two-year-old wearing a cowboy hat, bouncing to the music.
I didn’t worry about the stack of songs ahead of me.
Mickey did pull off about three songs, which felt like a small miracle.
When I tried to sing Georgia Satellites’ Keep Your Hands to Yourself requested by a young boy, after the first verse, he leaned over and said, “Let me try it.” I laughed—he was right. It’s much more convincing when he sings, “no huggy, no kissy, until I get a wedding ring.”
He also sang Sultans of Swing, one I cannot sing while holding a steady bass line. It’s like chewing gum and talking, and my bass line, along with the gum, ends up on the bottom of my shoe.
I’m learning to stretch my comfort zone, constantly learning songs on the fly right in front of a live audience. I’ll be the first to admit that there are rough patches.
But the real people living these experiences with us are what make it magic. We are creating a meaningful life together—a natural overflow of something we love. Something we simply all must do.
P.S. If someone came to mind while reading this, feel free to share it with them. Stories have a way of multiplying when they’re passed hand to hand.