Music, Love and Lessons in Creating Yourself

A couple weeks ago, I found myself at Cafe du Nord.

I was ready for a night of musical exploration. I’d never heard of any of the artists, but it was better that way.

I was pleasantly surprised, however, when the performances started tugging at my heartstrings — songs so open and honest that my connection to the sounds quickly blurred into my connection with the sentiment and what was going on behind the music.

Amber Rubarth, the evening’s headliner, was the only person behind us in line as we trickled in late — her friendly smile reminding me how artists are not simply untouchable performers, but real people, too. Our moment of introduction reignited my love for small concert halls where the artists themselves man their merch booths, where you can see the cash you’ve handed them for their albums go straight into their pockets.

Though we arrived near the end of the first set, we managed to snag some seating — rather uncomfortable chairs you’d more likely find in your high school cafeteria than a lounge-like music venue — and settle in for the show.

The warm glow of the faintly lit stage, the rusticness of the dark-wooded interior and an audience of friends, family and warmhearted supporters paired nicely with the acoustics.

With no expectations, the music could only go uphill. Luckily, it nearly skyrocketed out of this atmosphere.

I sat there for just over 3 hours (thankful for any kind of chair at that point), fighting back fatigue, taking it all in and appreciating the honesty, humor and, to a degree, humility of everyone who went on stage — Ryan Auffenberg, Jim Bianco and finally, Amber.

I forgot how deeply music could touch me, make me think, and actually make me laugh.

I wasn’t blown away by deeply philosophical lyrics — you know, the kind that make your brain turn over and over while you play the song on repeat. But the songs were real. They were thoughtful. They were emotional. And that I could appreciate.

This longer-than-usual-but-worth-the-under-eye-circles-the-next-morning show made me realize that music is just another form of entrepreneurialism. They’re putting themselves out there as a business. It just so happens this business comes with a guitar, piano or stand-up bass in hand. They are working just as hard and taking small, but frequent steps to get to where they want to be. They’re making their dreams happen, no matter how hard it is to be on the road. They know and accept that they have to start out on Greyhound before they can have their own tour bus.

It made me recognize that singer-songwriters must wear their hearts on their sleeves. With so many songs about loss, change and transition, they have to revisit their vulnerabilities each time they perform, and sing them with the same amount of passion as when the wounds were fresh. It’s an occupational hazard … or perhaps it’s a blessing.

It made me think: how can we learn from the light, the happy, the joy and the pleasure, not just the dark, the sad, the heartbreak and the pain? And how can we remember both the positive and the negative — see the whole picture — when making serious judgments about love, about friends, about life?

It made me realize that music may not exist without heartbreak, but also made me wonder when it’s right to call something love. How do you navigate the notion that previous loves may not really have been love? Maybe they were simply learning experiences to build up your resilience and emotional intelligence.

Singer-songwriters put themselves out there, put their lives to music and passionately share it with everyone who is willing to listen.

What if we all did a little bit more sharing, more candidness, more thinking-out-loud and less holding back of thoughts, ideas, love and kindness?

Image via Creative Commons