On Being Myself

Welcome, friends, welcome again to The Front Porch. Do sit awhile and make yourselves at home. I've not much to offer in the way of food and drink save for a little left over iced coffee and a few treats from Starbucks--expired, of course, but Robin Hooded from the Corporate Standard Operating Procedure of being trashed and instead gifted to our little porch care of Sarah--thief to the rich, giver of good gifts to the friends of the porch.

Playing currently on the stereo is Radiohead's most recent release, In Rainbows. I'm not sure that a more beautiful collection of tones and sounds have ever been put together on the same small little piece of digitalized plastic. Moments exist on the this record so sonically lush they exact nothing other than gratefulness for having been alive to hear--no, not hear, but swim within--them.

Probably no one at New City, however, would agree with me. "Radio who?" They ask when I tell them about my favorite band.

And I respond likewise: "Lil who?" I ask when they tell me about the artist who, unbeknownst to me, happens to be topping all the popular music charts.

I am learning, slowly, the necessity of being oneself and being comfortable with difference between one another. A few weeks ago I attended the XChange, a once-a-month hip hop variety show put together by the teens of New City. The night includes raps, spoken word poetry set to music, videos, and peanut butter and jelly eating contests. Although my appearance may suggest otherwise, I am not a connoisseur of rap and hip hop music. But as I listened, I found myself quite enjoying it. The beats, electronically produced, differed in sound, but rhythmically resembled the music I know well. The vocals, delivered primarily rhythmically rather than melodically, open up an entire new world of musical creativity and possibility--one which I hope to explore in my own music.

I sat in my chair, bobbing my head to the beat of that musical world of new possibility, when one more band took the stage. Perhaps best described as Hard Core Screamo meets Hip Hop Chorus Hook, the band played one song, a rendition of Psalm 23. My head stopped bobbing. I'm not sure what expression my face wore, but it elicited"Are you doing alright?" from one of the New City pastors. Oh, I'm fine, I thought. This is just bad music, and that's all there is to it. I looked around, however, and everyone else was rocking out to the bad music. Headbanging to the bad music. Fistpumping to the bad music. Jumping up and down to the bad music. Don't give in, I thought, as I resisted the urge to fake enjoying myself.

There exists, I'm convinced, a line difficult to perceive, but essential to understand in new situations that require developing relationships with others. On one side of the line is hospitably going outside one's comfort zone to legitimately try new things, and on the other side is faking it. One side allows you room to be authentic, the other discredits you as a person seeking genuine relationships. I could not fake it, it would be ingenuine. But I wanted to fake it because that would have been easier. It is so much easier to be agreeable around folks that you want to get to know. And while being agreeable is important, being honest is even more so.

This past week I went to a bluegrass show with some New City teenagers. Another favorite band--the Punch Brothers--were playing a show in NYC. I figured a bluegrass show would be a bit of a hard sell for the teens, but when I put out the invitation, some seemed genuinely interested. Within the first song, as Chris Thile, the world's greatest mandolin player, feverishly played out some of the most impressive bluegrass licks the world has ever heard, Greg was asleep, snoring. He made it clear this was not his kind of music. And I'm glad he did. As much as I would have loved to have Greg love the kind of music I love, I would not have had him fake it.

In a paradoxical way, acceptance and appreciation of difference is the very foundation upon which genuine relationships develop. It is counterintuitive for me to allow myself to be different. I prefer to search for every possible way in which I share something in common with another person. And while points of commonality are important ways to develop genuine relationships, so must be points of difference. For it is in honesty about difference that we will know the relationships we build will be built with genuineness and authenticity.

As a closing thought, I will continue to listen to Radiohead and Punch Brothers, but I did find myself last night, inexplicably, sampling Lil Wayne's latest record on iTunes. Not bad, not bad.

Some unrelated images to follow.

A Day at the Zoo:











...And some others:


The little yellow building in this picture is for sale--future site of The Front Porch Coffee Shop?


Sunset in the city.


Greg and I after the bluegrass show (after Greg woke up-ha!)


Ashley and I teach the Rap and Song class at Summer Camp.


This one's for dad--kayakers on the Hudson in front of Ellis Island