I’m crazy and I know it (part 1)
Radically Pursuing Passion At.All.Costs.
2 years ago one moment changed my life completely.
A buttery orange sunrise crests the menacing tip of Concepción Volcano. Roosters squawk like broken vinyl, and jungle spirits tuck themselves in for a day of rest. The 12 other participants in this astral jaunt mingle about the camp, excitedly sharing their experiences and triumphs in having survived a dance with the ancient wisdom of Paoti. Not one to follow a crowd, I sit cross-legged and alone at the top of a treehouse radiating lithe and lilting melodies.
My voice interweaves the rustle of palm trees, the cries of the monkey, and the crackle of the quickly extinguishing sacred fire, and more than I ever have in my 27 years, I don’t feel alone. I am the music. Cadence and countermelody all bundling into the convenient mosaic of now. Music? Something I’ve run from my entire life is my essence, and I have never received a Universal guidance so clear since.
That’s how I decided, at age 27 with no prior experience, to become a musician.
Mom! Look at me!
Imagine being the mother of a 27-year-old coming home from their first significant time abroad, 7 months in lesser-known destinations such as El Salvador, Nicaragua, and barely surviving a 100K Ultramarathon in the northeastern mountains of Mexico. You pick him up from the airport, and he’s carrying a used Nicaraguan guitar and seemingly hasn’t shaven in months, but he’s here and he’s alive!
“You had quite the journey Josh! What are you going to do next? Go back to work? Finish University?” My mom asks with a smile exuding curious anxiety, nervously glancing at the dented guitar on my back.
“I’m going to be a musician Mom,” I bellow with all the feigned confidence a son could muster.
“Since when do you make music,” my mother blurts, obviously confused.
“Since right now…”
Cue the Montage…
3 months in the basement of my brothers house. 16 hours a day of YouTube production tutorials, online singing lessons, and guitar drills.
3 months of nervous breakdowns, self-doubt, and anxiety-riddled practice for weekly open mics. Cycling 1 hour to and from the aforementioned open mics with an acoustic guitar bag strapped to my back just to forget my own lyrics on stage.
3 months of stewing in inner anguish. I had chosen the path most perpendicular to my greatest fears in life. Being seen, being vulnerable, and being rejected. 3 months of brawling with my demons and getting beaten, bruised, and blasted.
And then…
I arose from my cave with a triumphant smile on my face. Having completed my first songs, I was ready to release the sweet bounty of my sweat and tears into the world!
I had the Spotify page all set up, I made a music video, and I told everyone to listen and guess what!
Absolutely no one did.
I shouldn’t say no one. My girlfriend probably gave it a spin (because her face was on the cover), but I quickly realized the hard truth.
This is going to be much harder than I thought
****Story to be continued
you are 100% the bravest person i know. i loved reading this and love you