Responsibility

It seems that society loosely defines responsibility as "doing the things you have to do instead of the things you want to do." This is often referring to a job, or career. Someone who spends their time loafing around, living off the goodwill of others, doing whatever they want would certainly be defined as "irresponsible." As a musician, I would prefer to spend most, if not all, of my time creating music and helping others to do so. But I am not one of the priviledged few whose music provides for their sustenance and their family's needs, so I take on work to cover the bills and provisions. I firmly believe I'm supposed to, as a husband, and a father. I would never put my family's well-being and survival at risk to pursue any of my musical goals. Yet, I am faced with the same dilemma that many deal with, which is that of my provisory work taking so much of my time, focus, energy, and commitment that I have hardly anything left with which to fuel my creative process. Working to make enough money to free up my time to pursue music means that I have no time to pursue music. Quite a dichotomy. One that many can relate to. Also, unfortunately, one that has caused the death of much talent, vision, and creativity far too soon. So many of my friends whose creativity was a bright shining light have chosen to hang up their guitar, sticks, and their talents. This is so sad to me, and also very scary. There is a constant tearing of two worlds from my perspective. One is work. It must be done, and it must be done very well and thoroughly. I am not the sort of person to rush or half-ass a job simply because my heart isn't in it. And so I dive in deep to solve problems, make things happen, etc. I am proud of my work, even when it's largely wasted on a drunk audience. The other is my creativity. This is the world I would MUCH rather be in, because it is not only deeply fulfilling, but it is also a lot easier for me to connect with and worship God. So the dilemma exists. And it is a long-term one. Yet I'm left wondering if this isn't the way it should be anyways. Having this constant tearing has not led me to a place of hanging up my sticks. In fact, it has driven me harder in the other direction. It has allowed me to savor the few moments when creativity flares like a struck match. It has made me proud to say that I am a musician, because that is what is in my heart, if not what is filling my bank account. Slowly I'm coming to the place of realizing that the tearing IS my muse. There is no art without urgency, and so my promise to myself is likewise urgent. I will never ever hang up my sticks. I will never get to a place of telling the "I used to" stories. In the midst of the tearing, I will never let my talent and creativity die. God didn't put me here for that.