My lovely spouse, Marissa, gets into it every once in a while – she lived in the Darien province on the Colombian border, in the jungle, when she was a baby girl, on her grandfather’s farm (with an evil parrot, but that’s another post altogether). And then she was in Panama City, where the canal was the what-all that bound the economy and the people of that lovely, spectacular country; some happy about it, some not. But she didn’t live in “the zone” – the Canal Zone – and doesn’t consider herself a Zonian.
I was in another zone once upon a time. The musician zone. Unless you know, you don’t know. There’s this magic, for lack of a better term, that occurs when you’re on every day. In 1997, I flew 106 times, played about 90 shows, sang in front of thousands of people. The zen moment was singing “The Star Spangled Banner” for 27,000 people at Three Rivers Stadium. June 1, 1997. A cappella. Burned in my memory. Just effin nailed it.
This thing happens when you work every day. You stop thinking. Your fingers just know. And then you get a little bolder. You go left. You swerve a little further right. You take chances. When we did the Vivify show last week, there were a couple of spots where Eve and I were doing something cooler, something bolder. We’re finding our sound. Our senses of humor click. We’re getting it together. We had an animated rehearsal tonight while working out some new stuff. There are some memorable shows ahead for us.
Haven’t been in that zone with the guitar for decades. But I’m committed. I’m going to find my way. Not “my way back,” mind you – no, you can’t go backward. Five days a week on the guitar. It’ll pay off sooner or later. I put in my 10,000 hours long ago. Wonder what happens when you do 20,000…