The ick, the dive, the splash and the cure

Putting personal stuff out sometimes feels ... ick.

In the last few weeks, I've started to understand how it can get easier.

Last October I posted a video about some of the lowest times in my life. (If you’d like to see it, there’s a link at the end).

I’d never put anything personal or revealing online before.

Posting it felt like peering over the edge of a high diving board at the pool - a small blue rectangle far below - then diving off.

Since then I’ve posted about other times in life when I’ve been aimless, heartbroken, or low.

Sure, they’re not the most revealing things on the internet. But it doesn’t come naturally. The splash still stings a little.

Selfishness vs service

It’s not just because it’s vulnerable. It’s also because I fear there’s something a little selfish about it.

After all, every post is an ask for attention, time, and a share of your mind.

What do you get in return?

This isn’t business; I don’t do it because I know.

It’s creativity; I do it because it’s better out than in.

With creative stuff, neither of us know upfront whether you’ll get anything from it.

I like to help and to feel of service. So it’s uncomfortable to feel that I might be putting out stuff that benefits me but takes from you.

There’s a picture that always pops into my mind when I think about this.

A house party. People are chatting, flirting, laughing. On the stairs, in the kitchen, lolling on the sofa.

But there’s this guy. He has a scratchy acoustic guitar. He goes from group to group, playing at people.

Wonderwall, probably.

He sings too loud, stands too close, stays too long.

He interrupts, imposes, demands attention.

His audience-hunger is palpable. It’s awkward.

I get a visceral reaction to this; I cringe to my tonsils.

Ick.

It’s important to me not to be that guy.

But

The problem is: that doesn’t work.

Starting anything creative means putting it in front of people who might not want it.

How can you know people won’t feel short-changed or interrupted?

You can’t.

You’ve got to ask for attention before you can find out.

I’ve got to invite you to my gig before I know whether you’ll have a good night.

Every creative journey starts like this.

Every aspiring singer has to face sceptical faces. Every aspiring rapper has to play their first attempt to a friend. Every aspiring writer has to hit send.

Every creative journey starts with the risk of being Wonderwall guy.

So, five months into putting stuff online… here we are.

What I’ve learned

In the last two or three weeks, though, something’s started to happen. People have seen what I’ve put out and started to make their own meanings.

A friend has told me this project was part of the inspiration for her to start a creative project of her own.

People have left messages under my videos saying they gave them new words for old feelings.

At the second gig the other week someone who had been through their own difficult times told me how much this project spoke to him.

To all those people – thank you.

These little sparks of recognition and response show me that creative projects can help people.

They can show someone they’re not alone in what’s happened to them or in how they feel about something.

That’s one way. There are a million others.

I don’t think it’s going to magically start being comfortable for me to put personal stuff on the internet.

But it’s getting easier.

Partly because I’m starting to understand the cure for the fear that there’s something selfish about putting personal or vulnerable stuff out there:

It can make meaning. It can help people.

But only once you put it out.

You’ve gotta transmit for it to be received.

It takes two to make meaning.

Todaaay is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you.

-—

If you like this, please consider subscribing. If you can think of someone who might like this, please share it with them.

And if you’d like to know when there’s more music, writing, or gigs, you can join the email community here.

The video I put out was this one.