johnmaconline

“Be cool or be cast out”

– Neil Peart, Subdivisions

I truly did love Rush, as I still do. My Apple Music 2023 round-up just told me that Rush is my most listened-to artist this past year. 

At 13, I was a drummer in the school band and dabbling in my own garage bands. For rock-loving teenage band-geeks like me, Rush was the north star. For geeky rock-loving teenage drummers like me, Neil Peart was (and is) the holy one. 

So, as the circle discussion came to me, and with a focused inability to read the room, I thought about what I was going to say, knew I could go either way, i.e., blend in or head out on my own, and decided it was worth it. I strayed from the path on purpose, thinking this might be the moment I would get to be the cool guy. 

Swing and a miss. 

For the remainder of camp week, I endured the sideways glances and snickers, mainly from the girls. Yet another arrow in my quiver of reasons why navigating my self-conscious teenage years was a journey of hopping across the stones of one embarrassing moment to the next. 

But also, in this particular moment, I kinda did like being the outsider. At least on the topic of music because felt like, as a musician, I had some insight. Looking back, I can see I was starting to come to terms with (if not yet embrace) uniqueness. Both in myself and others. 

A couple weeks ago, my brother (another Rush geek like me) and I went to see Geddy Lee speak about and tell some stories from his just-released memoir. What a treat. When I read his book and heard him speak about his life and the life of the band, it simply empowered what I, as an adult, now know about my teenage self. 

First, it’s good not to fit in all the time. Think for yourself. Embrace what you care about. You will endure embarrassment. You will be snickered at. Muscle through it. 

Second, you’re not really alone. You may feel alone, and god do you feel all alone sometimes, but you’re not. There is a whole community of like-minded people around you. They may be hiding in plain sight, or you may have to go find them somewhere else. But they exist, and they’re waiting for you. 

And finally. Rush was and is cool. Regardless of what the room full of teenage girls thinks.  

The year was 1983. I was 13 at a Christian summer camp in the Poconos of Northeastern Pennsylvania.

In the mid-mornings, we had circle time. Eight to ten us in each circle with a counselor discussing various topics. The topics of circle time varied from the deep and biblical, such as faith and sex, to light and cultural, such as movies and school.

Today’s topic — music.

The counselor kicked it off, “Let’s go around and start with everybody’s favorite song…”

My circle just happened to be all girls on this morning. The go-around started with the girl sitting to my left and went clockwise. I would be last. This was the summer of Def Leppard’s (really, Mutt Lange’s) mega-hit, Pyromania. In fact, in just a few weeks, they’d be playing the Allentown Fairgrounds. All the cool kids I knew were gonna be there. Anticipation was high. One of the older kids at the camp ran around all week in his Union Jack shorts, made famous by drummer Rick Allen in the videos.

Not surprisingly, every 13 and 14-year-old girl in our circle’s favorite song choice was from that album. “Photograph…Nah, Rock of Ages…Photograph for me, too…Mine’s Too Late for Love…”  All 7 or 8 of them.

Then they got to me.

Now I liked Pyromania as much as the next teenager (Still do. My choice would have been Foolin’). But I just couldn’t do it. I’ve spent much of my life trying to fit in, but at this moment, with 8 teenage girls and a counselor putting me on the spot about my favorite song, I was inspired. Channeled even. I was fortified in my rebellion.

“Tom Sawyer. Rush.”

And there was a collective groan. 

“Oh, you would…Who’s Rush?…I’ve never heard that one before…Those guys suck!…You geek!”

And such was the beginning of my life as an outted Rush fan.

(more to come…)

Who’s in the room matters quite a bit.

When it’s only me and my team in the room, we use a lot of words that, to an outsider, don’t make much sense (at least not in context). We use words like Python, polymorphism, rubber ducky, spaghetti, API, DevOps, and git. That allows us to keep our discussion deep and nuanced but also highly efficient.

If, however, there are outsiders in the room, this technical terminology either shuts them out or leaves them behind. When we want to include others, we change the terminology and the explanations. The conversation may slow down and become less efficient, but it doesn’t have to lose its depth and nuance.

This is what good teachers and communicators do so well — bring others into the conversation without sacrificing the depth or nuance of the subject. They’re not dumbing it down; they’re attacking it from a different angle.

But technical terminology can also be used purposefully to shut others out or attempt to make oneself appear smarter. If you find yourself in a room and can’t understand the terminology, it might be that the talker is unaware or you aren’t the audience. Or it might be that the talker is using jargon to boost their status.

In any case, you should know who’s in the room.

Steven Pressfield calls it the Muse. Rick Rubin calls it the Source. Some call it God. 

Their point is that creativity and ideas come from somewhere or someone else. It does not come from the artist. It’s otherworldly. The artist is the listener and the conduit. The typist. 

I, myself, have briefly experienced this otherworldly Source (I call it God, by the way) twice that I can remember vividly. One time, as a teenager, sitting behind my drum kit. Another time, standing at the front of a room talking to a group of people. In both cases, the sounds that came out were special, or at least felt special. 

I didn’t know where it came from, but for sure, it wasn’t me. I felt like a conduit. I felt tuned in. It’s definitely “flow,” but also different than the normal flow state, which is pedestrian by comparison. It’s full-out channeling. I’m hoping it/he/she visits me again. 

The bottom line is maybe we need less “I did this” and more recognition that it is, in fact, not us. Our job is simply to listen. 

If there are five people and four chairs, someone doesn’t get a seat when the music stops.

That’s not up for debate, nor is there an equality of outcome solution, nor is there a way to change the definitions of terminology to redefine the outcome. Someone is out.

Unless you change the rules. But if you do that, you’re no longer playing musical chairs.

Life is complex and nuanced — grey rather than black and white.

In fact, I ponder a lot here about that very fact because I believe that one of our biggest downfalls as a media culture is our inability to see, or at least acknowledge nuance. I believe it’s a lowest common denominator problem. That’s a discussion for another time.

But sometimes, it’s really not that complex. Sometimes, Occam’s Razor (in my house, we call it the “smell test”) leads you right to where you should go, or at least where you want to start. 

If the lawn mower doesn’t start, check if it has gas before disassembling the engine. 

If the light doesn’t turn on, check to see that it’s plugged in before you call the electrician. 

If the dishwasher didn’t run, check that you closed the door securely before buying a new one. 

The easy, simple, or obvious answer isn’t always the right one, but it is always a good place to start. You may have to go further, or you may not. 

The same concept applies to banned books, censorship, evil, war, politics, economics, gender, religion, pandemic response, science, and human relations. 

When you’re the newcomer, you have four options:

• Fit in and embrace
• Fit in and work with the group to change it to something you want it to be
• Don’t fit in and work against the group to change it to something you want it to be
• Leave

Any of those are OK. However, if you choose to not fit in and try to bend the group to what you want, don’t be surprised at the resistance.

Because just as you have the right to try to make it the way you want it, so does everyone else. Especially the ones who set up the rules. Rights go both ways. 

The breeze cools.
The air crisp.
Shadows stretch.
Twighlight encroaches.
Brown dominates.
Grey on its heels.
The wind whistles.
The air cuts.
White blankets.
Night expands.
Orion rises.
Silence deepens.
Everything wet.
The sun warms.
The buds whisper.
Light stretches.
Morning awakens.
Green sprouts.
The sun shouts.
The wind dries.
Roads sizzle.
Shadows shrink.
Evening lingers.
Gold reigns.