I live in Nashville, a city that identifies as one of the
few Mecca’s of artistic collaboration. Go to any local park in this region and
you will discover scores of seemingly homeless-looking circa-1950’s Bob Dylan
types, weaving each of their sticky guitar riff webs at the root of every live
oak tree. While this behavior is generally utilized to attract attention from
the opposite or same sex, the hearts of most musicians in Nashville are for
excellence in their respective fields of art.
I love the drive and competition. This town pulsates with
talent and original ambition, and I often find myself running outside of the
lines, trying to keep up and feeling very un-athletic. (Literally and figuratively.) This rat race toward
the most prophetic and influential art seems to eat away at confidence and
challenge our abilities to support one another. Oftentimes, I fall into
patterns of comparison and irrational judgment, simply because I feel there isn’t enough of that good juju to go around.
That’s when the lies come out to play.
You aren’t good
enough. The bar is too high. He/she took this/that already and you missed out.
Blahdy blahdy blegh megh.
How gross. Am I the only one? In the midst of our well-intentioned
quest for beauty and truth, we get caught up in a false perception of how much
‘good stuff’ is out there and ripe for the picking. My favorite visual for this
unrealistic striving was bestowed to me via blogger by one of my favorites,
Glennon Melton. (http://momastery.com/blog/)
She paints a picture detailing the comparative tendencies that we all have by
using a typical bowling alley metaphor. The crux of the post questions the
nonsensical-ness of even comparing yourself to anyone at all. You are in your
own lane, and your lane has absolutely nothing to do with the strike or gutter-ball next door.
WHY do we compare ourselves when the reality is that NO ONE has EVER had the
same story? Your experience is different from any other human who has ever
existed, so how could you possibly equate your measure of achievement to
theirs?
These are the things I think about when the lies of failure
creep into my bed at night. Living in a thriving city of artists should be only
inspiring and never discouraging. This is because abundance is never limited,
it flows out of every story that fills our days.
