Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Finding My Joy

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye

A few years ago my husband and I went on a double date with my dear friend, Hope Ramsay and her husband to see my first David Wilcox concert. We sat in the front row and I was so amazed by this man’s guitar playing, I found myself paying as much attention to his hands as I did to his words and music. I left the concert thinking that David Wilcox was quite possibly the happiest man on the planet. Never before had I seen someone so thrilled to play songs he’d probably played a million times. After the show, Hope and I spoke to him and I was so touched by his words and the reverent way he talked about his music, his writing, and his life, I found myself in awe of his home-spun existentialism.

Since my first David Wilcox concert, I’ve become a huge fan. Today I was hard at work but feeling uninspired so I turned on my David Wilcox playlist and did my best to find my joy. I remember being so moved by David, during his concert, I felt as if I was meant to be there. I was desperately in need of inspiration, and spending a few hours watching a gifted performer, listening to him talk about how he writes, what he writes, and why he writes it, was exactly what I needed to feed my starving muse.

I left the concert with my head spinning—I counted four blog topics I couldn’t wait to explore. But the thing that really touched me again was the way David Wilcox played with such delight. He walked out on stage carrying a guitar and wearing a long-sleeved navy blue sweater, a pair of faded jeans, and the most joyful expression I’d ever seen—he practically glowed. Before every song he’d tune his guitar and gaze into the rafters with a look of pure exultation, I was envious. David Wilcox had exactly what I’d been searching for. I want to feel that same elation I saw in him when I work. If someone should see me writing at Starbucks, I would hope to look half as happy as David Wilcox looked every time he started playing a song—as if he was thanking God for the gift of his talent, his guitar, and every single person in the audience. I want to learn what it takes for someone who writes and performs for a living to find so much joy in what was probably just another day on the job?

I’m taking a lesson from David Wilcox and finding my joy. I love writing. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do for a living. I wonder if lately I’ve gotten so bogged down in the business end of writing, that I’ve missed the magic that happens when I’m creating. I am going to step back and rediscover why I feel the need to create characters, the world they live in, and the emotions that drive them. I want to experience the joy that comes from losing myself in a story. I want to figure out how to gather and store the drops of magic so I can swim in it every now and then. I want to look up at my ceiling fan and instead of seeing the dust gathering on the blades, be blinded by the light of inspiration. I want to be the woman at Starbucks writing on her laptop computer who makes everyone wonder what she’s doing wearing such a radiant smile. I want to walk into my office every morning eager to create a world of happily ever afters. I will do that. I’m inspired.

So please tell me, how do you find your joy?


Leslie Langtry said...

It usually involves chocolate, vodka and some sort of fluffy animal. Great post! I'll have to check this guy out!

Quilt Lady said...

I find my joy in books. Chocolate doesn't hurt either.

Robin Kaye said...

Leslie - I'd have to add scotch to the list. Do check him out, he's pretty amazing. I love his song Sex and Music (Sacred Ground) it's too funny!

@ Quilt Lady - Great books definitely bring me joy too! And everything is better with chocolate...