A HEART FOR THE ART
A HEART FOR THE ART
I find doors fascinating because of their potential for something mystical and magical. The doors of transformation are even more so. In fact, it is so magical and mysterious that we mostly don’t recognize it when stepping over the threshold.
I know this to be true especially around the pain door and its transformative effects on me. But this isn’t about me and pain.
I am married to an incredibly intellectual and creative personality—more intellectual than creative. Before he left the workforce, someone who had already made that transition advised him to find something he wasn’t good at and do it. That wasn’t hard advice to follow. My husband, like most of us, is good at a pinhead of things in an ocean of possibilities.
The summer before his December exit from work, he participated in an Evening with African Drums while we were on vacation encamped in the Saharan Desert. At the conclusion of the evening, my husband turned to me and said, “I didn’t want to give my drum back.” When he closed the door to work, he went searching for a drum teacher.
He explored what he wanted to engage in, something he wasn’t good at—and discovered something he has grown to love. After one lesson, he came home and said, “I told my teacher that I lack talent, but I have a heart for the art.” He loves to practice. That love—for practice and for the djembe—has animated him. He fills our house with rhythms that once lived somewhere else, because neither of us had much rhythm of our own.
My husband’s transformation began with a seed planted on vacation. The Universe sprouted that seed through a friend who connected him with the perfect teacher. But here is the reality check: the same Universe that sprouted the seed is also the one that holds gravity in its hand. As the seed pushed through the soil—as he learned to use his left and right hands and struggled to keep a beat—the gravity of doubt and hard work pressed down. Still, the seed kept growing. Transformation was happening, mystically and magically, one practice at a time.
When he crossed the threshold into drum lessons, my husband had no idea that one day he would ride on a parade float playing his drum—or become the featured artist in “An Afternoon of RHYTHM.”
You read that correctly. Family and friends gathered and watched in disbelief for thirty minutes as the former rhythmless soul inspired and amazed us with African cadences and beats on the djembe. His teacher’s words will be remembered for a long time: “If I can teach Mr. Gary how to play, I can teach anybody.”
PONDER THIS THOUGHT—Transformation, while mystical and magical, is rarely instant. It begins when we cross a threshold, stay with the hard work, and allow what is planted within us to grow.
Comments