Come Together

I never wanted to be a famous tennis player.

Sure, I liked Ivan Lendl and Stefan Edberg and Jim Courier and Roger and Rafa but I can’t remember a time where I wanted to emulate their feats or even be them.

Likewise, Michael Jackson, David Bowie, or Prince.

I’ve never wanted for it to just be about me on my own.

I’ve always gravitated to groups, to teams, to bands.

Sure, you could say there’s safety in numbers. I get that. It’s not that though.

There’s a magic spark when a gaggle of people come together to do something in unison.

There’s the thrill of gallivanting down the left wing when I play football. I’ve nipped in, read the play and intercepted an under-hit pass by the opposition. I’ve fed the ball infield to my mate in midfield and then I put on the afterburners as I create an outlet option down the flank.

Without me even having to call or signal my intent, the ball is being played ahead for me to get onto as my teammates cascade forward into the box in anticipation of the cross I’ll deliver.

Synchronicity with other human beings is an electric feeling.

To be in tune and on the same wavelength with other people in a shared venture.

To be in a music studio with a singer, bass player and drummer. One of them is putting together this great little chord combination. There’s a bridge too. It’s got guts. It holds weight. The bass player plugs in and adds a layer of concrete to the structure. The drummer comes in on the two and four beat, riding the hi hat. The singer’s humming a melody. It’s rising, rising and unexpectedly finding a direction I didn’t predict. I pick up my guitar and go from where the melody departed. I find the counterpoint melody – it’s come from somewhere deep within me that’s so utterly me I don’t even have to think about it. Five parts now looking for common ground, note by note, bar by bar coming together until there’s this moment, this feeling. I’ve got tingles. I’m beaming a smile and wiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I catch the drummer looking at the singer and I see that he feels it to. The pace solidifies and we hit a groove. A beat or two later we strike another moment and then another.

I almost want to cry.

It’s about as good a feeling as I have had and I was only able to feel his good because I was connected with other people who have all turned their dial to the same frequency I have.

Maybe you’ve experienced something similar in your life?

Lord, I hope so. Time and time again.

I don’t get this on my own, when I’m by myself.

Even when writing.

Writing often makes me feel very whole and very centred. Writing helps me put things together, make a certain level of sense out of my thoughts.

But I have never felt this sense of unbridled elation while scribbling observations in a notebook or hammering away at the keyboard. No matter how good I believe what I’ve just gotten down is.

Real joy, for me, is achieved when in harmony with others in a creative endeavour.

All I do is in pursuit of these moments. They are hard earned and often with great stretches of time between them.

It’s all there is.