Here I am... wasn't I?
It's very hot in the city this morning, and has been for a couple of days. I live on the top floor of an older building, right under the roof, where it heats up early and stays hot late. My air conditioner won't be installed till after the weekend. All this to acknowledge that I am not at my best. Now, my grandparents lived on the top floor of a 6-floor walkup in Washington Heights for many years, and they never had air condioning. The hardiness genes must be deteriorating with each succeeding generation.
Whatever the reason, I had a spiritual meltdown yesterday. On a break from working on a friend's recording project, I heard another recording the engineer has been working on. The track was swinging, one of the singers was terrific - great intonation, hip choices, totally in the groove.. The other was not. This other, albeit a very fine theatrical singer, Did Not Swing. Was not in tune, either. I heard all that, and felt envy - envy that that one singer was getting to record in my genre (mine mine mineminemine waaaaah!) while I cannot afford to, frustration that agencies and labels have not been interested in me since I left the Transfer, exhaustion from having to do everything by myself. I was just a mess inside, and probably at that moment had all the emotional and spiritual maturity of a two-year old. The only credit I can claim is that I did not fling myself to the floor and wail. And that I probably would not have done so even if I had been alone.
The sting is this: I actually don't believe in the competition model of the arts, and I don't accept the limitations of genre, either. In fact, I believe that one must offer real support to one's fellow artists, and honest encouragement when they stretch beyond their perceived limits, and generous, genuine rejoicing when they have opportunities and successes. Let's face it - it is easy to find folks in your field who will whine in harmony with you. It is being honestly celebrated by your peers that is scarce. So my inner behavior was completely contrary to my profound convictions.
I have been wondering all night and this morning about this. How can I seem to have come so far, and then step in my own leavings? Conversion is not a single event. That's what I am forced to remember. It is a daily, hourly, every-minute event. Think it's done? and it ain't, and here's proof: my inner Waaaah! Of course that's found throughout scripture, with St. Peter is the all-purpose example. Lived with the Lord, loved the Lord, and the minute he thought his own skin was at risk, he denied ever having met the man.
In dog training (ride with me on this) I learned that mammals under stress revert to earliest learned behavior. And what is our earliest learned behavior, us humans? Crying to get what we want. And being afraid of being neglected, uncared-for, unloved. And that is the territory I visited yesterday. In the studio, no less, which I must add is like a sanctuary to me. A place of shelter.
Well, waiting in the mailbox for me when I got home was a copy of James Alison's On Being LIked, which has been recommended by a friend with whom I have been musing about the Atonement and substitutionary sacrifice. I opened the book briefly to sniff at it (doesn't everyone?) and "happened" to open it to these sentences:
In other words, we are taught to be loving lookers at what is by the One who is calling into being and loving what is. We are taught to see and delight in what is by the One whose delighting is what gives it, and us, to be.
Oh. Lord, I believe with all my heart... and help me in my unbelief. Lord, be my vision.
I am saving the rest of that book for July because of the ongoing One Good Book Experiment. My final word (at least for now)about my envy fit (see? it's not even green anymore) is the Word that knocked me back into a better balance this morning. It is in John's gospel, chapter 3: Now a discussion arose between some of John's [the Baptist's] disciples...so they went to John and said, ""Rabbi, the man who was with you on the far side of the Jordan, the man to whom you bore witness, is baptising now, and everyone is going to him." [Here is where John could have said "Going to him? But I'm the Bapist. Waaah!"]. He replied, "No one can have anything except what is given to him from heaven.... It is the bridegroom who has the bride; and yet the bridegroom's friend, who stands there and listens to him, is filled with joy at the bridegroom's voice. This is the joy I feel, and it is complete."