I just came from a small church service where the worship team was made of only 6 people. As I was singing along to the first song, I was thinking to myself that the music was lovely, but nothing that I would characterize as spectacular. About the time that thought crossed my mind, I became aware of the most beautiful sound. One of the 6 musicians was sitting at the back of the stage, looking down, sitting on a stool, and playing bass. Now the baseline of any song is pretty important, but not very often so amazing that people become known for playing it. Nonetheless, sometimes a bass player is allowed to “riff,” and lay overtop of all the other instruments a lithe, melodic interpretation that highlights that players talent. This was one of those moments, but with none of the fanfare of a typical solo spot. In fact, most of the crowd seemed not to even notice his “solo.”
When I looked back at the musician playing it, I noticed that he sat, himself unmoved, not showboating, not gloating, just working with that bass guitar, as if he were practicing in his own room, not performing at all. When he finished this piece, he went back to playing his more hidden rhythm line, but something had changed. All of players in the group now sounded more cohesive, the two singers more bold, the lead guitar more elegant, the keyboard more graceful, the drums more dynamic. The quality of the music had been elevated, though I doubt anyone playing was conscious of the change. Now, the music truly was spectacular.
What I love most about Nashville is what I think we all love about American Idol, or The Voice, or X-Factor: among the ordinary can be found the extraordinary, virtually hidden, in any given corner. I believe that one of the reasons we are so drawn to the concept of finding “diamonds” amidst all of the other “lumps of coal,” is because we intuitively know that we, each of us, have some hidden, extraordinary talent, just waiting to be discovered. But what if it never is (officially speaking, I mean)?
Some of us go through our days never hearing, “Thank you,” never being recognized for a job well done, and barely even looking up to see if the crowd is paying attention. Yet, our talent, our level of excellence, elevates the work of those around us. We provide support, without even knowing it, by creating an atmosphere where others can shine. We provide the baseline and enjoin our teams simply by doing what we do, to the best of our ability.
I am convinced that any one of those musicians playing could have had that effect on the group, and, no doubt, have done so, at one time or another. Today, I happened to witness it in the bass player, but the truth is that at any time, any one individual can offer his or her talent in such a way as to “raise the bar” for everyone. When any of us do our jobs well simply for the love of the work, or improve ourselves through study or experience, or even just get the proper amount of rest, we set the example for all of us. More importantly, seeing someone excel gives us permission to elevate our own relationships, our own practice, our own self-care, by opening the door to excellence.
You may never be called to the front of the stage, or given an award, or applauded, but I assure you, you do have influence. Please keep sharing with us your talents, however hidden or undiscovered you may feel they are, and know that you are helping to create the spectacular. And, in case you don’t hear it anywhere else this week, Thank You! You inspire me.
