I’ve been struggling over here.
For the last several months I have been reeling from the impact of Hurricane Ian, working late, pouring over spreadsheets, dealing with banks, insurance agents, and lawyers.
At the same time, I’ve been wrestling with the “why” of my creative process. The few times I could drag myself to my studio after a long day of work, I would listen to a few pieces I had underway, or do some organizing, or further the long-overdue updates to my software. Stultifying.
I’ve been wondering if it’s all worth it—all the work, all of the hassle that creativity implies. It pains me to tell you that sometimes lately it has seemed like just a lot of bother.
But the other day I had a disagreement with my wife that really served as a wake-up call.
She acknowledged the work that I’m doing for our company, but said I was missing out on the greater blessing of life, that I was out of balance, and that I had forgotten what it meant to serve. And because of that my life was beginning to shrink.
I was flabbergasted. I countered that all I do is serve, spending day and night to try to figure out the best next steps for our company. I felt that she was saying I wasn’t trying hard enough, or doing enough already. That’s not what she meant.
She talked about the pie of life, how all the slices should be in balance, more or less: kids, work, friends, self, our marriage, the community, etc. She told me how a life of service is not where “service” is just another slice of pie, just another thing to do, but how service is part of every slice. How everything we do is a service (or should be) to others, to the planet, and to ourselves.
She talked about how those things we do in service are what we remember on our deathbed and what we’re remembered for. She said that is how we make a life that is meaningful, and I was missing out. She said my life had shrunk down to my needs and my work, and there was no room in my heart for anything else. Ouch. I strongly suspected she was wrong, but had no proof. As it turns out, she was right.
Over the next forty-eight hours I could barely speak. My head was spinning with what she has said. I considered just about every aspect of my life, every area of involvement. Everything from how I approached my colleagues at work to how I approached my studio at home.
What I found was that each and every area of my life is an opportunity to serve. And that’s what made each of those areas magical—the opportunity to serve.
I just never got this before. Ever.
As stupid as it sounds, I realize now that I thought it was about me and what I need.
I thought other people had altruism (apparently a gene I just didn’t inherit). I thought that maybe they too much time or money on their hands. I didn’t know that living a life of service feeds the soul that is hungry for meaning. I didn’t know that this is how hearts get bigger, instead of shrinking like mine had been.
This truth had been staring me in the face my whole life, from Charles Dickens to Jimmy Stewart. And I just didn’t get it.
But I get it now. Along with everything I realized that my music and this newsletter are ways of serving. That is the “why.” And I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve.
My very best to you,
Philip