Right Before Our Eyes

Opportunity lurks in the unlikeliest of places because, in actuality, it is everywhere if we can only remain open. So many of us can get lost in wanting, yearning for our dreams, pining for what seems elusive, while New Age pundits promise beatifically that it is all easily within our grasp.

Slowly, I am beginning to understand.

The more we open ourselves to the blank page of each new day, the closer the script we write resembles the life we want. Shedding myself of the expectations and “shoulds” by which I have been living, I find I have actual choices to embrace things previously relegated only to my imagination.

Less than a year ago, with trepidation more tarnished than my fingers were rusty, I opened my guitar case after years of silence. I caressed the strings, closing my eyes to float in the sound I could hear of a full band, sparkling and bright, alive with a blend of magic. Not only am I working on making that a reality through the formation of Cache, but this Saturday night, I will strum, pick and harmonize on a small stage with a trio from Toronto.

Six months ago, I would not have been so presumptive and audacious. Certainly I had no clue how to overcome the boundary that had kept me previously in the audience—if I was hearing any music at all. Developing a consciousness that we all have gifts to share, I have dared to introduce myself to musicians I admire. The Internet makes this really easy, leveling the field of play without imposition, allowing each of us the choice to click or not.

Because her edgy and heartfelt notes (http://www.emmacookmusic.com/) somehow resonated particularly in my ear, I trusted my intuition enough to meet Emma Cook when she came to town last month. Our polite conversation turned into an invitation to play along when she returned this month with her band.

The lifestyle of a singer/songwriter rarely supports travel with back-up musicians, so this adds a richness of voice to her show without having to labor on the long road in between. Working raptly with her CD to learn the songs, I played in my living room and sang along in my car, presuming to blend harmonies as if we were the best of friends. Crossing paths in Plattsburgh, New York last week where she appeared in a small club over the community co-op, although shy, I was pleased with the result, proud of myself that in daring to step forward, I could make such a talented musical friendship (and she seemed to like it too).

Today, what seemed like a twist of more bad luck with the flash of a warning light in my Redster was transformed by a series of fortuitous co-incidences into a wealth of opportunities. Forced to wait for a simple repair, I sat for a time in an upscale coffee shop a little beyond my normal circle of travel. Three different conversations with people I see rarely linked me with information to further several projects lurking on my list. Additionally, a complete stranger, inadvertently overhearing one particularly spiritual exchange, handed over a website address scribbled on a cup holder that she thought I might find very interesting…

No longer focused on the demand of my construction business, not dashing frantically here to there, nor distracted by the over-whelming details of hammer, windows, estimates and costly mistakes, my ear is able to pick up the sounds of songs more attuned to my most personal life. Instead of writing contracts and job-cost analyses, my pen scribbles lofty thoughts, wrestling them to pages that just might lead to a book, finally back on track to manufacturing the dreams my mother always assured me I could make come true.

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