I’m laughing to myself as I post this Instagram story of my coffee, journal, and computer screen that’s streaming Ben Howard’s live performances on YouTube on a Sunday morning, knowing I’ve posted incredibly similar stories many times before:
For the sake of verifying my utter predictability, I type “Ben Howard” and “computer screen” into the photo search on my iPhone. To no one’s surprise, I’ve posted an Instagram story of this nature at least once a year for the past few years (screenshots from 2021, 2022, and 2023):
The sun is rising on what’s sure to be a gorgeous day in San Francisco and I’m overcome with an urge to splatter bright colors of paint on a huge canvas, or to dance, or to run up a mountain. But – I don’t have a big canvas or any paint, and my body is tired from yesterday’s long day of travel, and I start trying dance but feel silly at how ungraceful my body is.
In another life I’d be an amazing musician or artist myself. I’d have the ability to capture all of … this … and transfer it to others. Except I’m not, and I don’t know how else – other than a half-joking photo, apparently – to describe these glimmers of joy and fullness.
At a mosque in Istanbul I spoke for over an hour to a kind woman who was there as a volunteer trying to convert people to Islam. She asked where I was from and I told her California. She wanted to know if I identified with any religion and, before I could respond, she said, “Everyone from California says they are ‘spiritual’ but not religious.”
So – tl;dr – I’m a total California cliché because that’s exactly what I’d been about to say. I quickly modified my response which, to be fair, is the truth but lengthier and more difficult to explain: “I generally believe in a higher power, or that something exists that’s bigger than all of us. I grew up Episcopalian and have since taken elements from other faiths and life experiences to continually grow and find what resonates for me.”
So, ok, fine, the easiest way to describe is it that I’m spiritual; that I believe there’s a spirit that exists in each of us and within the earth and that unifies us and moves us all. To put it another way: if there isn’t some sort of spirit moving me in these mornings through music, then I’m at a loss for how else to explain it!
As I said before: I wish I were a talented artist of some sort. But the best I can do right now is crazily scribble in my notebook exactly what’s in my head (an ~outpouring of my soul~, if you will):
I take everything so seriously. I’m so worried all the time. Mostly about myself. Am I enough?
It’s not that serious!!!!! I’m tired of holding myself to some standard of art. I’m tired of making up rules for myself about what is worth writing or painting and what is not. Rules about what’s finished or unfinished, what’s good or bad, what’s worth sharing or not sharing.
I’m alive, I’m experiencing this music and this sunrise! After all, we’re only alive on this earth for so long.
