Feet Are What Bootstraps Are For, Right?

At 21, I was forced to do a complete overhaul on my life. In my junior year of collegial study, way far down the pathway of classical music training I got sick with what later turned out to be Lyme’s disease.

When most people my age were counting how many seconds they could do a keg stand, I was counting how many steps I could take.

Muscle and nerve damage rampaged my body. While my peers graduated, got their first jobs, got married and started having babies- I fought to regain full use of my limbs, then battled my way out of medical and credit card debt the disease had incurred. The hard-reset that Lyme’s disease forced in my life was painful physically, emotionally, and spiritually- but it also set me on a completely different pathway for my life- and because of this, I’ve learned to view the experience with gratitude, even if it is still painful sometimes.

Let me walk you through my biggest take away from the ordeal

You might be wondering why getting Lyme’s disease had such a huge impact on my life. Because of Lyme’s disease my mobility was heavily impacted for several years, and I have nerve damage on my left side. While most folks wouldn’t even notice some of the mobility hurdles I have, I do have them – and they impact my sense of identity.

I grew up as a musician. From my earliest memories, I can recall a violin in my hands. I fell in love with the violin at an early age and in an unexpected way. My parents made it a priority to take me and my siblings out into nature for extended periods of time as children. It was on one of these trips when I was just 7 years old that I encountered the violin for the first time. On our yearly camping trip, we ran into a group of folk fiddlers one evening. When we got home a few weeks later, I declared boldly to my parents and anyone who would listen that I was going to be a violinist. Shortly thereafter my formal musical education began.

As a Suzuki-schooled, pedagogically trained musician I followed the script that was set before me by the greats. I studied under one master and then another and another until I had downloaded into my fingers all their wisdom, and that of their own teachers. I spent the bulk of my childhood rehearsing, in lessons, or playing violin in select ensembles. In my sophomore year of high school when the adults in my life started asking me what plans I was making for life as an adult- the obvious choice to me seemed to become a professional musician. At the time, I couldn’t imagine a life for myself outside of the context of an orchestra or choir.

By the time I graduated High School I had 10 years of classical study under my belt. During these years I had learned bow technique, and finger positions, how to listen within the context of something larger than myself, how to lead and how to follow. However, after getting into the best musical college around, and many more years of collegial study, what I found that

14 years of musical education couldn't teach me what to play when no one else was around... when there wasn't a sheet of paper in front of me telling me what to do, when to play, and how to behave.

After all my study and hard work, I couldn’t just pick up my violin and play what was on my heart- like those fiddlers had so many years before. My heart yearned to just pick up the instrument and play a jig like they had. Now in college, I had attained a level of mastery of the instrument- so why was I stuck?

I around the first time I became aware of the need for this script, I got sick with Lyme’s disease. Seven years later, I was 28, had finally graduated with a bachelor’s degree, and had regained the ability to walk unassisted. I hadn’t given up on my dream of becoming a professional musician and planned to finish up my final year of musical study as soon as possible. I still had nerve damage and was trying to figure out how to best heal the function on my left side so that I could get back to playing my violin again, when I got news from the neurologist.

I would likely never recover the ability to play the violin.

I was devastated. I sat in a chair without moving for weeks, numb to the world. Who was I if I wasn't a musician? This was the first title people had given me from a young age... to lose it now was shattering. What else was there? Who else could I be? What was the road forward from here?

I had spent the last 7 years of my life picking myself up by the bootstraps, willing myself a way forward, and refusing to give up on my dreams.

I found myself, as I so often did, staring at my feet one morning and a pair of shoes. Mobility was still an issue for me, and while I could walk independently, I still slightly dragged around my left leg. The fine motor function it took to tie my shoes meant that if I could battle the vertigo long enough to lean forward and tie them, I usually had to repeat the process a few times before I could get a secure knot.

I had done everything the doctors had told me to. Undergone years of physical rehabilitation including multiple professional trainers, nerve stimulus with e-wave current, macro and micro-nutrient infused eating, chiropractic care, nutritionist-designed eating regimen –

I had been left with a 'good enough' body that could get me from A to Z but that lacked vitality, and frankly, joy.

I was lost in a big way.

So, I sat there staring at my feet trying to will myself to pull on my boots. Boots that were painful but willing myself to want to go through the process of getting ready for the day. What I realized, is that I didn't want to get ready for the day that was in front of me. I wanted a different kind of day - I needed a different kind of day. I needed to change pathways, step away from the orchestra, go off script. And this is when everything changed. I knew I’d have to start approaching things differently. _________________________________________________________________________________________

"Change is not merely a part of life - it is life." - Alvin Toffler

The single surest and most universal constant is change. In our world of quickly shifting dynamics, we respond within this symphony by adjusting and readjusting, calibrating and re-calibrating, until we find our footing again. After all, who hasn't been thrown a curveball by life from time to time?

We fall down, and then get back up, right? When we fail, we pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and keep on 'keeping on', right? In our world of arpeggiated change, we can reset, and find our way back into the score. - stay the course and go down with the ship rising again like the Phoenix! (This is a story we love to read, watch on tv, and hear about.)

Does this sound familiar?

I know from personal experience that defaulting to pulling myself up by the bootstraps is my baseline. I make a plan, and when it doesn’t work, I double down and work harder believing that my daily grind is what will get me where I want to go. I have watched as so many of my friends and family repeat this same pattern. The problem is that sometimes this doesn’t work. So, what if there's another way?

What if staying the course and going down with the ship over and over is driving you to do change differently? Maybe changing in the way that's best for you isn't to conform to a pre-written symphony, and just follow the notes on the page. Maybe, just maybe, getting lost on the page keeps happening for a reason. Maybe our getting lost is actually something larger than ourselves trying to tell us something. Maybe we can find the answer in a different response- something that looks and sounds a bit more like Jazz? I’m going to be bold here and flip a the common ‘life is a symphony’ phrase on its head. I think this metaphor is wrong because I’ve found that

Life isn’t a symphony, it’s a jazz band!

All Jazz music follows a similar pattern. Most songs fall into the category of either 12-bar-blues or a longer 32-bar-pop format. The group playing the piece follows the same chord progression and timing, and the melody is set in either case- but how the music comes out is different every single time it's played because each musician responds creatively within the chord structure to make something beautiful that works for the whole. Jazz music is produced by repeating a loose pattern with set framework – the rest happens in the moment, like magic.

Back to our bootstraps!

We often fail, as people, to question the options and pathways set before us, or the plans we’ve made when we find that we encounter hurdles. But what if we started to? What if we paused to look around before we yank on another boot by the straps?

What if our chronic bootstrapping is what's causing the derail in the first place?

Maybe when the music's not playing, we don't know what to do, not because there's isn't music inside of us, but because we have never been taught to really listen to it? And, if we're not listening to what’s inside of us, how can we possibly hope to bring music to life?

What if, when we fall down- the answer is not to pull those boots back on - but ask what kind of shoe we need so that we don't fall? What if we're not in a symphony, but we're in a jazz band? What if what we're supposed to do is stop long enough to find our own music, instead of playing what's been given to us?

What does it all mean?

What I'm saying is that it is perfectly okay - and in fact that it is normal and needed to stop and listen in order to make sense of our lives. People like to talk about 'practicing the pause' but I'm talking about something longer, and more intentional. What makes all those Jazzers able to make music with each other is a deep, abiding and intimate knowledgeof the melody. If we follow the jazz metaphor further, it gives us the following insight:

Before we can respond creatively within our world, we must first encounter the deepest, most abiding and intimate parts of ourselves.

The power of a jazz musician lies in their ability to inject their soul into every note, to paint with sound in a way that weaves itself into those around them and into the larger harmony of the group. Similarly, the power of each person lies in their ability to inject their soul into every action, every choice- and paint their life with purpose in a way that weaves itself into those around them and into the larger harmony of community.

The most important thing to know about Jazz is that it's all about you. The most important thing to know about Jazz is that it’s about them. The most important thing to know about Jazz is that it’s not about anyone.

Similarly, the most important thing to know about your life is that it’s all about you. The most important thing to know about your life is that it’s all about them. The most important thing to know about your life is that it isn’t about anyone. Music doesn’t need a reason to be beautiful, and neither do you.

Stop hiding, dear ones – put down your boots, and have the courage to be barefoot for a while. Take a moment to listen to what wants to be born within you- then step into that magic, bring it to life, and sing, you Jazzer, sing!

Your feet are not what bootstraps are for.

Your feet are to carry the magic that is You, everywhere you need to go.

Is where you’re going where you want to be?