I’ve played guitar since I was 10 years old and have listened to music for as long as I can remember. Music has been a foundational element of my life. I’ve played in bands, jammed with friends, attended countless concerts, and have enjoyed the lessons music continues to teach me.
Even before picking up a guitar in 1988, I’ve always marveled at what I thought was a special gift bestowed upon a few select people: the ability to write music.
This brings me to a key point: Until 2020, I was never really able to write music or lyrics.
Sure, I’ve dabbled. I even wrote and recorded an instrumental guitar track I titled ‘The JJP Sessions’ that I hand delivered to a girlfriend who had just dumped me. That was 2002. And 18 years later, that was still the only original piece of material I had completed.
And then 2020 happened.
An imaginary switch turned on sometime during the pandemic. When picking up a guitar to dabble, more started coming out of me than before. I started to like what I heard. I understood how what I was playing could be developed into a more coherent thought, dare I say, a song.
I’ve spent many nights reflecting on what could have allowed this to happen and I’ve concluded it is the combination two things:
- I stumbled across a very old acoustic guitar with a wonderful back story in Sam Ash that I absolutely had to buy (and did)
- I’ve done a tremendous amount of work on myself during the pandemic, which has helped to change my subconscious belief that “I’m not a person who writes songs”
Today, I’ll focus on #2. Stay tuned in a future post for the fascinating story behind #1.
You see, during the pandemic, I’ve somewhat laid myself bare. I’ve taken the down time to explore my thoughts about the world, my family, my friends, my place in this world, and my life. Not normally an anxious person, my anxiety began to skyrocket that has caused me to examine why it was happening. And what I found made me realize there was much work to do.
So I got to work.
I began meditating again. I began journaling. I developed a gratitude practice. I changed my diet. I reduced my alcohol intake (after first increasing it during the beginning of the pandemic). I took more control over my health. And, I deepened my work with my counselors, who have played such an important role in my life.
All this work made me challenge what I believed about myself. It made me explore what is the real truth about me? Was I still the kid who got left out of a high school band because the other guitar player didn’t want to teach me the songs? Was I still the kid who was always a substandard guitar player, one who was too boring, who couldn’t either write a melody or play extravagant solos?
And then a funny thing happened: While I was pondering all these questions, I started writing songs.
At first, I didn’t realize what was happening. I couldn’t explain why I suddenly had this skill. I tried explaining this to one of my counselors and she just smiled. Then she said something I’ll never forget:
“You finally have something to say”
After challenging, then starting to strip out the false narratives I had internalized for decades, I started to write some original music. Since the pandemic began, I have over 20 song ideas recorded as voice messages on my iPhone, ready to be developed into complete thoughts. I’ve got plans for collaborating with friends to do just that, then head to a studio to record, a goal I’ve had for decades.
This pandemic has challenged each of us in ways I don’t think we thought possible. I still work with my anxiety every day. However, there is no doubt that the difficulty of 2020 has, through intensive work, pushed me to a higher state of being and shown me who I can become. Just as COVID made us rethink countless elements of our lives, I’ve also re-thought the false and old narratives I clenched to so dearly, like a warm blanket.
The reality is as warm and comfy as that blanket was, it was holding me back. And once I threw away the blanket and laid myself bare, I became a songwriter.
houckOUT 