David I of Scotland knighting a squire, 14th century
" … I exclusively pave the way I came, not the way I'm heading."

How did any of us end up here? What lucky breaks and unfortunate accidents summed to here and now? I suspect that this question might most probably deflect any How response. Though the story might make diverting legend, beyond entertainment, it probably couldn't qualify as instruction, any sort of functional How To. I think it most likely that nobody knew how until well after accomplishing any achievement, if even then, though many of us obsess over how before engaging, as if our next experience couldn't possibly fill in gaps in our prior experience. Many of us carry discovery fantasies that we might stumble into some well-placed connector who will discover what we have to offer the world, and benevolently or greedily pave our way. In my experience, which, like yours, never rises above anecdotal example, ways forward do not tend to be paved. Few have been discovered while sitting at a lunch counter at Hollywood and Vine. Heck, few of any of us ever manage to get discovered by anyone but ourselves.

I firmly believe that human progress has always been driven by synchronicity. Hip bones were never inevitably connected to any leg bone, the eventual connection emerged from a series of at best intentional accidents, and that while there never was such a thing as a self-man man, there are also only self-made ones, neither condition either necessary or sufficient for any outcome to emerge. I've subjected myself to my share of auditions, the vast majority of them producing nothing beyond mild humiliation. I long aspired to be discovered and never was or was frequently chosen, impossibly both/and. I read this week, the legend of how Roger Ebert discovered John Prine. Roger, Chicago newspaper film critic, left a screening early because his popcorn had been over-salted. Stopping by a nearby bar for a beer, he found a young mail carrier performing on a small stage. Every song touched him, so Ebert wrote a review for his paper, and John Prine became an overnight wunderkind and left his mail route behind. Prine lived the rest of his life as a touring performer, writing songs and releasing records while trying to maintain some semblance of a family life.

Discovery complicated everything for that man who wrote perfectly wonderful songs while delivering mail. I suspect that there might well be ten thousand or more similar stories that did not result in anyone getting discovered and no-one touring or performing away their life. I know several of the best songwriters I've ever heard who never progressed their performing career beyond the occasional begrudging open mic night appearance, and even then, only to placate some spouse or friend, their creative urge never dependent upon appreciatively roaring crowds. Had they been discovered, the resulting shift might most probably have destroyed them. Thems that create exclusively for their own entertainment might just end up being the lucky ones.

I sometimes catch myself fleeing from opportunity, avoiding even clear openings to utterly change my life. Had I chosen to open that show in Allentown for Eric Clapton's band, a NY producer might have attended and signed me to a deal which could have propelled my budding songwriting career into somebody's stratosphere, but I didn't pursue that opportunity. I receded into some other equally entertaining story which produced, among other things, a best-selling book, which made me neither rich nor famous, just a little more experienced. I had not known how to accomplish that beforehand, and it seemed such an unlikely outcome that I never seriously considered it a possibility. Now, I write daily, but not so someone out there can discover me and offer me opportunities to royally screw up my life, but to discover myself. I'm my own advance man aching to find fresh talent. I'm the guy carrying the paving stones, except I exclusively pave the way I came, not the way I'm heading.

©2020 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #WhatNow?, #PureSchmaltz