A Word From Carl Taylor

   Working in the "Music City" has some wonderful advantages. Beautiful scenery, friendly people, a fairly stable economy and more music and music related businesses and people than you can imagine. When I first moved here, I remember the wonderment of being around so much talent and so many people that earned a living in businesses that were related to mine. Now 16 years later I've found that the J-O-B of it and the fog of "cool" has crept in and dulled the wonderment that had previously been mine. I'll loosely define this "cool" as that distant-detached-muted but seemingly hip (acceptable) appearance and behavior. If you look around, it's not unique to the music business because all of us have been dulled down in some way. It's surprising though because we're not dutifully making widgets for a living. It has to be something else.

Sure, business is hard and the recent economic crisis has brought severe pressure to just survive. Competition is fierce, hard decisions have to be made and strong leadership is needed all the more. Surprisingly though, the "cool" in life is trickier to get a handle on. It blows in when we least expect it, slowly, silently choking out the thrill of living from our whole hearts and the outward expression of who we really are.

This past weekend I traveled to Indy to see both the National Catholic Youth Conference (NCYC) and The Amy Grant-Michael W. Smith 2-Friends Tour. One had 25,000 teens in a stadium and the other was in a more intimate theatre setting. Surely these events would pierce the fog. Having worked with these clients for many years, I know the artists, musicians, and crew quite well. I know that each of them bring a deep passion, commitment and skill to what they do. But when we're together, it wouldn't be "cool" to express what we really feel (joy?), so we bring our best "just doing my job" face. Even as an audience member, am I allowing myself to experience the transcendence of the moment or does my professionalism hold me in check? How would I be judged if I really let out the enthusiasm, joy, tears, excitement, fear, compassion and whatever else was inside? What if I'm so dulled that I've lost the awareness of my own trueness?

After these events and a time of reflection, I want to throw away the reserved "cool", peel back the fog of life and allow the thrill and wonderment back in. Soak up all the beauty that is music, art and connection with others and remember for a moment, who we really are, what matters and passionately come alive. I know this; that's not "coolness", but it most certainly is "cool". G. K. Chesterton once said that, "gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder". When we let that wonderment touch our hearts again, real gratitude pours out and the shimmering self is free again.