The Bull & the Bear:
Checking in One Year Later
“I don’t say much any more.” At least, that’s what I thought to myself
recently after one of my serial mid-day flashbacks. I guess what I mean
to say is that I am less compelled to “get on my soapbox” these days. Not
that hoards of faithful followers ever really subscribed to my rant and
wisdom (or lack thereof...), but I suppose to some it might seem like I
joined the “Order of Curley-Headed Eccentrics-in-Hiding Club”...of
which Rick Moranis is secretary, and Richard Simmons is president.
The truth is that much has changed for me, and in a seemingly short amount of time. It’s almost been a year to the day since I started my own wealth management practice, and effectively reduced my thriving musical career to a weekly commitment of yelling at people in Latin and the occasional nostalgic weekend of loud noises, lights, and surviving the TSA line at the airport. Reviews on my decision have been mixed. For the most part, my efforts have been met with tremendous support, coupled with only a hint of skepticism (which has been easy to settle because it turns out that I’m pretty damn good at my job). Others are upset that their emotional investment in my music has been met with a level return. Investment analogies aside, I find that the deepest connections in this time have been made in conversations with those artists who fight winning and losing battles for their art every day. Specifically, I am referring to those practical burdens of needing to provide for a family, obtaining financial independence and security, and retaining autonomy, growth, and freedom in your art form while at the same time embracing the lifestyle of an artist that can often consume every available minute of one’s day.
The Holy Spirit is an old friend, one who seems to arrive unannounced but always with fireworks in tow... kind of like Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring. His most recent visit happened this past weekend. I was attending a mass where my good friend was preaching as a deacon for the first time. Prior to mass (and I should note that it was memorial day weekend), the pianist played a medley of patriotic hymns and fanfares. Among the melodies was the main theme of the 2nd movement of Dvorak’s 9th symphony, the “Symphony for the New World”(1895). I don’t know what made this melody so jarring to my state at that moment, except that it might have to do with the fact that in the span of two months, I got into a car accident, bought a car, bought a house, spent 12 hours of my 60 hour work week studying for a massive securities exam (with two more to follow in a months time), and I will be married in one month. Regardless, this melody, which I have heard and performed a thousand times, moved me to tears. My fiancé (having noticed), on the drive home, asked me a profound question. She wanted to know if I was happy...specifically with the changes I made, and with the lifestyle I have now chosen.
...and so I finally arrive at point. I have always referred to my music as my “lower-case v” vocation; a call to sacrifice my comforts for the sake of beauty. With a month standing between me and my “upper-case V” vocation (my wedding), I can’t help but think that in accepting one, I am no longer able to make the sacrifices necessary for the other. In other words, I don’t quite believe that one can fully give himself to both “brides”. I believe that there is a disconnect between having a thriving vocation as an artist, and having a free, total, faithful, and fruitful vocation as a spouse. The word "thriving" can mean many different things to many people. For my part, I'm referring to it as my career. I don't want to give the impression that my art isn't thriving in other ways. In fact, it is blossoming in ways that I didn't even know were possible, but that growth has little to do with the stage, the wattage, the crowds, and the money. It's become much more intimate. I do want to say that I understand there are exceptions to that idea. In a way, I view these gifted artists as ones who God has granted to opportunity to “wear both uniforms”. Case in point, why are there so many artists who have to find lucrative work outside of their craft to support a family, and so few who are able to support their family (prudently) on their art alone? Such a question merits a gratuitous answer based on how the world views and supports its culture-bearing artists...it’s best that we just reserve that topic for a longer piece in the future.
The pitfall here would be to think that I am suggesting that one must give up their ambitions, desires, and gifts for the sake of marriage, holy orders, or consecrated life. On the contrary, I believe that you can continue a ministry in the arts and sustain a vocation simultaneously, but the priorities may need to shift. For me, this meant staying home more, rather than going missing for three weeks of the month, and saving money for a home, rather than a guitar or album. This means that I have to protect my income so that if lighting strikes, the people who rely on it will be safe. This means that I have to spend more time on my relationships, and a little less time writing. The sacrifices are hard at first, but the reward is great. Additionally, I think I should say that I believe God is faithful, and he rewards his faithful. One cannot comprehend the joy and grace of a vocation unless you’ve made the leap of faith to be in it. I believe that there is no comparison to be made between the happiness music brought me and the joy and fulfillment to come with being a loving and imperfect husband and father.
Finally, while I have always acknowledged that success for me (in music) meant that I had autonomy and freedom to express myself, as opposed to monetary success, I recognize that the most fruitful thing I can do with my gift is to place it before the foot of the Lord in an expression of the great Fiat: let it be done with me in accordance with your will.
P.S....Yes, i'm happy!
The truth is that much has changed for me, and in a seemingly short amount of time. It’s almost been a year to the day since I started my own wealth management practice, and effectively reduced my thriving musical career to a weekly commitment of yelling at people in Latin and the occasional nostalgic weekend of loud noises, lights, and surviving the TSA line at the airport. Reviews on my decision have been mixed. For the most part, my efforts have been met with tremendous support, coupled with only a hint of skepticism (which has been easy to settle because it turns out that I’m pretty damn good at my job). Others are upset that their emotional investment in my music has been met with a level return. Investment analogies aside, I find that the deepest connections in this time have been made in conversations with those artists who fight winning and losing battles for their art every day. Specifically, I am referring to those practical burdens of needing to provide for a family, obtaining financial independence and security, and retaining autonomy, growth, and freedom in your art form while at the same time embracing the lifestyle of an artist that can often consume every available minute of one’s day.
The Holy Spirit is an old friend, one who seems to arrive unannounced but always with fireworks in tow... kind of like Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring. His most recent visit happened this past weekend. I was attending a mass where my good friend was preaching as a deacon for the first time. Prior to mass (and I should note that it was memorial day weekend), the pianist played a medley of patriotic hymns and fanfares. Among the melodies was the main theme of the 2nd movement of Dvorak’s 9th symphony, the “Symphony for the New World”(1895). I don’t know what made this melody so jarring to my state at that moment, except that it might have to do with the fact that in the span of two months, I got into a car accident, bought a car, bought a house, spent 12 hours of my 60 hour work week studying for a massive securities exam (with two more to follow in a months time), and I will be married in one month. Regardless, this melody, which I have heard and performed a thousand times, moved me to tears. My fiancé (having noticed), on the drive home, asked me a profound question. She wanted to know if I was happy...specifically with the changes I made, and with the lifestyle I have now chosen.
...and so I finally arrive at point. I have always referred to my music as my “lower-case v” vocation; a call to sacrifice my comforts for the sake of beauty. With a month standing between me and my “upper-case V” vocation (my wedding), I can’t help but think that in accepting one, I am no longer able to make the sacrifices necessary for the other. In other words, I don’t quite believe that one can fully give himself to both “brides”. I believe that there is a disconnect between having a thriving vocation as an artist, and having a free, total, faithful, and fruitful vocation as a spouse. The word "thriving" can mean many different things to many people. For my part, I'm referring to it as my career. I don't want to give the impression that my art isn't thriving in other ways. In fact, it is blossoming in ways that I didn't even know were possible, but that growth has little to do with the stage, the wattage, the crowds, and the money. It's become much more intimate. I do want to say that I understand there are exceptions to that idea. In a way, I view these gifted artists as ones who God has granted to opportunity to “wear both uniforms”. Case in point, why are there so many artists who have to find lucrative work outside of their craft to support a family, and so few who are able to support their family (prudently) on their art alone? Such a question merits a gratuitous answer based on how the world views and supports its culture-bearing artists...it’s best that we just reserve that topic for a longer piece in the future.
The pitfall here would be to think that I am suggesting that one must give up their ambitions, desires, and gifts for the sake of marriage, holy orders, or consecrated life. On the contrary, I believe that you can continue a ministry in the arts and sustain a vocation simultaneously, but the priorities may need to shift. For me, this meant staying home more, rather than going missing for three weeks of the month, and saving money for a home, rather than a guitar or album. This means that I have to protect my income so that if lighting strikes, the people who rely on it will be safe. This means that I have to spend more time on my relationships, and a little less time writing. The sacrifices are hard at first, but the reward is great. Additionally, I think I should say that I believe God is faithful, and he rewards his faithful. One cannot comprehend the joy and grace of a vocation unless you’ve made the leap of faith to be in it. I believe that there is no comparison to be made between the happiness music brought me and the joy and fulfillment to come with being a loving and imperfect husband and father.
Finally, while I have always acknowledged that success for me (in music) meant that I had autonomy and freedom to express myself, as opposed to monetary success, I recognize that the most fruitful thing I can do with my gift is to place it before the foot of the Lord in an expression of the great Fiat: let it be done with me in accordance with your will.
P.S....Yes, i'm happy!
life... :)
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