Do the work. Put in the effort. Invest the energy. Move the rock. And then, celebrate the achievement.
It sounds rather quick and easy described with small words and short sentences. Of course, it’s neither quick nor easy.
Nobody said it would be easy, but nobody said it could not be done.
Let’s see what you’ve got.
I like the phrase “pocket symphony.” I first heard it used to describe “Good Vibrations,” a three-and-a-half-minute composition that takes the listener for an amazing ride, not unlike the effect of a full symphony, in a very short time.
But the piece that, to me, best exemplifies the phrase “pocket symphony” is “Frenesi” by Artie Shaw.
Or maybe “Powerhouse” by Raymond Scott.
There is probably a way to describe with words exactly what a pocket symphony is.
But the best way. If you have 10 minutes to spare, is to listen to them.
Almost everything I own, I purchased in part with the thought of sharing it with the world in some way, in a podcast, a book, an album, or some other way. I really should get on with some of this sharing while I can.
The problem I always have is, “What first?” Some of the best advice I ever heard is from a friend who also had a pile of things to do and couldn’t decide which to do first, until a colleague finally said, “Just pick something, anything, and go from there. Just get started.”
So, I look around and say, “What first?”
My eyes rest on the “Fear is a Liar” T-shirt that I had to buy earlier this month, even though it was overpriced. The phrase turns out to be the name of a great song of encouragement. What’s holding you back? What are you afraid of? That you’re not good enough? That what you have to say is silly or irrelevant? That you’ll fail? That you won’t be able to handle success? That the world will see that you’re an imposter? All of the above?
All of that is the fear talking — and fear, he is a liar.
It’s a great message all wrapped up in four words, perfect for a T-shirt. I’ve written thousands of words trying to say the same thing, and Zach Williams managed to pack it into four words.
Then, to my left is the Norton Anthology of English Literature, Volume 2 that I picked up at a rummage or estate sale a few years ago, partly because it reminded me of the massive textbooks I had to haul around campus 50 years ago. I browse through it from time to time, and I’ve encountered astonishingly great writing and insights almost every time.
I’ve left bookmarks so I can find the Joseph Conrad essay “The Task of the Artist” again when I need a jolt of motivation, and George Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language” when I need a review of what’s going on in the outside world, but those two examples are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg that is this volume.
The book is 2,878 pages, plus 44 pages of prefatory material and a 132-page appendix, and 12 blank pages in the back for good measure. And that’s another reason I took it home — I’m not sure that I’ve ever owned another book with more than 3,000 pages. I can’t imagine I’ll ever read all of it, but it’s full of treasure from dozens of poets and authors. I could spend months sharing cool stuff just from this one book.
And my shelves are full of books and LPs and CDs and cassettes (even 8-tracks!) and DVDs and BluRays, so many of them purchased with the idea that I would write about them, or learn to play a song, or make a playlist or podcast for you so you can see and hear for yourself.
When I chastise myself, it’s usually for letting so much of this lie around unshared. Then I chastise myself for wasting time chastising myself when I should just get on with the sharing.
So: Here is a very cool T-shirt and an awesome, ridiculously long book — and just think, it’s Volume 2, so there must be a previous 3,000-page book out there somewhere.
And wait until you see what else I’ve got here.
