You’ll never know what it is that you can’t do without first witnessing it, sure you can study, debate, research but until you come face to face with it, you won’t know what to do. You might even get blindsided by something practical that isn’t in the textbooks. Old and wise engineers will tell you of work arounds that needed to be done from drawing boards to actualising the practical function of a thing. Working with physical materials is a whole different ball game.
I’m not saying that studying and research doesn’t have a function, I need to have a functional framework if I’m going to achieve something. I can’t just walk into a live music show as a sound engineer without knowledge of the microphones and what they do, or the consoles and how to work them. I’ve been thrown on a few shows last minute, and I felt what that feels like, I wouldn’t make a habit of it, yet, there are some really awesome lessons in there.
You learn by doing
all taught to learn things by research, and the internet is a fundamental and easy to access resource for this, however it can keep us in the realms of never doing anything.
There’s a special kind of satisfaction by admitting that I need to learn something, and then learning it and proving that I’ve learned it by doing it. Mastin Kipp says that the most fulfilled people in life know that challenges arise, and things break. It’s the mindset that changes the experience of these scenarios.
There are some scenarios in life that we can’t even dream up. I like to think of this as the flashlight of awareness, we all shine the flashlight of awareness on the things that we most align to; our purpose. The nature of this is that there’ll always be something directly behind you that is now in the darkness. Expect some of the unexpected to come into play, be flexible, and learn by doing.
Sometimes the waters are supposed to feel a little choppy.
There’ll always be support
I remember a couple of the occasions where I was really struggling with the pressure of a big show, and I was visibly anxious. In live music sometimes you go into a venue with a band, and you work alongside a house engineer who knows the room and the audio systems of the venue. I’ve been on both sides of this fence and I discovered pretty quickly as a house engineer that if I build rapport with the visiting engineer that everything is more enjoyable. That being said the house engineer is very much a supporting role to the gig, the visiting engineer has the responsibility to make the show sound amazing.
On these occasions where I was really starting to struggle, I remember that the house engineer and I had gotten off to a frosty start, and it wasn’t always individual fault; perhaps I’d had a sleepless night on the bus, or we’d just had a bus crash, or just flown through a storm to get there. Hell, sometimes I just feel cranky.
These occasions were like a stalemate, stand-off, kind of scenario. Neither side backing down and admitting responsibility for this working relationship. It wasn’t until I dropped my defences and named the challenge that things started to turn around: “Look, can we work together better?” or “I’m not feeling great, can you help me?”
Every time I asked for support I received it in some form, the house engineer would help me, one of the band members would notice I was a little pale and put their arm around me, I would decide to make a call to a friend quickly.
The support is always available if you admit that you’re vulnerable, and you don’t have to know where it’s coming from before you do that. That’s the magic of life.
The challenge makes the prize even sweeter
The best and most vibrant moments of my life have come in immediate juxtaposition to really challenging events; overwhelming fears about the size of the venue, really challenging problems around technology with limited time to fix them, or a rupture in the working relationship of the team. The knowledge of these challenges and the fact that we all pulled through to make it happen, and that the crowd came in and were ecstatic, danced around, loved it, chanted their love and admiration, and left with that visceral feeling of connection that translates when they filter out of the arena. I can only point at the moon here, but it’s almost like how you feel when you take a deep and calming sigh of relief after something that was deeply troubling you mentally. The peace that exists after that moment is like the after-gig glow of the audience, and sometimes the crew and the musicians too. Honestly, that’s why I do this job (well, not right now of course), that’s what kept me on the gruelling schedules, and the endless traveling.
If it doesn’t work out, I learn more about myself
We have a kind of mantra in music: “The show must go on”, and it keeps us trucking around the world, and stepping through fears, and obstacles. I learned a lot about purpose in the ten years I have been mixing live concerts. I am still processing all those experiences.
On the odd occasion though, it really doesn’t work out.
We were in Ireland one time traveling to a festival, we had a leeway of around an hour before we needed to be at the festival. There was a huge line of traffic going the other way down the road, this woman pulled out from the traffic to turn around and gave our bus driver an impossible feat to slow the tonnes of weight down — we had tonnes of equipment in the back, and around 15 people on board, including the weight of the actual bus.
The bus hit the car and we all jolted forward.
Luckily no one was hurt, the front of the bus had crumpled within 6 inches of the driver’s knees, and our keyboard player had flown across the back lounge and hit his head on the steps but apart from that, everyone was fine. The universe had us crash right outside a pub, or was it just that there is a pub on every corner in Ireland? Either way we all flocked in there and ordered a stiff drink. Mine was an Irish whiskey.
This experience and so many others, bonded us together, we all processed it in our own ways, the guitar player and drummer went off and sat watching a horse in a field, there were some people who sat against the cool brick outside the pub, the bus driver had a good cry on mine, and my friend’s, shoulder. I did the rounds of everyone to see if they were alright.
In these moments we learn who we truly are, and what we need in the face of hardship, none of it is wrong, because all of us are unique, yet all of us are so similar at the same time.
Enjoy the ride
Life is like riding a wave, it’s energy pushes and pulls at your body, and whatever tools you’ve built up as your surfboard. Learn how to be the wave, ride with reality, and start enjoying the subtle moments of joy. The most incredible joyous moments are fleeting. Too often we miss the significance of these moments because we are looking for the big and shiny prize. It’s these little moments that fill up our cup.
Live to serve from an overflowing cup, don’t get caught up with the analogy of the cup needing to be half full or half empty, the cup is full of life; it’s full of energy. Live from that overflowing cup.
I always remember the moments of this visceral magic and joy the moment the singer finishes singing the one line that the crowd has all been waiting for all night long. As they exhale, the whole crowd exhales. The space hangs there in the air whilst everyone holds their breath and revels in that deep, and emotional, moment. Then everyone inhales again and relaxes. It’s magic.
Closing Thought
Yes, live music is an example of the extremes of emotion and people that gather to experience, it exists at the extremes of stress and pressure, but life exists in ratios at all levels. We can bring these wisdoms into our lives by observing them in their small and subtler forms, little and often. Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. Nothing changes, except our fulfilment and enjoyment of life.
These points are a little of what i’ve learned from life’s magic and I hope they help you to take the opportunity to recognise, be grateful, and celebrate that magic in your own lives.
I Love you.
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This post was previously published on Hello, Love and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: Unsplash