What would you go after if you would succeed? I wonder if success is a term best defined in the eyes of the beholder. When I was in high school, I dreamed of loading a van with my band, Zach and Brad of Distractions of Less, and traveling the country playing hole-in-the-wall bars. Our band at the time basically played music in Claremore and Tulsa, Oklahoma. Every show, regardless of attendance, was intoxicating. I felt alive on the stage, playing my bass with every ounce of me I could muster. I looked out in the crowd at friends and fellow misfits, and in my 16-year-old analysis knew this was what I was built for.

In the summer of 2003, my mom, despite her misgivings, gave me permission to travel from Oklahoma to Bushnell, Illinois to the Cornerstone Music Festival. I packed her white Econolodge Van, and my boys Jake Krumweide and Zach Ramey jumped in. Cornerstone (rest in peace) was the one music festival where punk misfits could walk around dusty roads and run into their idols standing in line at the port-a-potties. I have flashes of memory that burn bright. I remember walking into the merch tent wearing oversized cargo shorts, a band tee and a cowboy hat. I scanned hundreds of tables looking for the Pedro the Lion table. As I moved through the throngs of adoring fans, I zeroed in on David Bazan for the first time. Should I approach? What will he think of me? I took account of my appearance, the smell I surely carried from camping in a van and approached. I fumbled over my words and began to vomit my adoration. In reflection, who knows how many kids did this that day. Bazan looked me in the eye, listened with patience and had a conversation with me. I left the tent riding high and living my confidence. I can’t say for sure, but I think I told him I play bass and should tour with him.

Each morning in the van Zach, Jake and I awoke to the sound of Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire. A neighboring camp blasted the song in the early morning, signaling a new day in this musical heaven. Pedro the lion played a pretty large stage that year, and I was in the second-row stage left. I passionately sang his lyrics and attempted to flirt with this flowing dress hippie goddess next to me. David Bazan wrote and released a new track lamenting the war and futility of the US in Iraq called Backwards Nation. At that point in my journey I didn’t curse, drink and was especially critical of those who lived outside my Baptist ideology. I was especially touched when Bazan sang through this song and instead of saying camel f***ers he stepped off the microphone. I saw my idol, who was going through a difficult deconstruction of his faith, respect the faith of his fans in front of him enough to not expect them to be where he was on his journey.

My summer that year opened my eyes to humanity in a new light. I began to see the complexity of our human existence. I want to embody patience and love with my friends and neighbors who see the world as good versus evil. I want to listen as an empath and with the centered calm of a yogi. Jesus of Nazareth demonstrated this restraint, this knowing, and asked questions instead of dismissing the hardened heart, told parables that confound us. Instead of giving a laundry list of ‘to dos’ or a three-step process to wealth and financial freedom, he taught us how to pray and notice the least of these.

In 2021, I want to take risks emotionally, musically, as a creator and do it like I can’t fail. I want to reframe my expectations of what success looks like, and channel my 16-year-old capacity to dream again. I wonder if it’s possible to do this and be fully present to the needs of those around me - to channel a spirit of calmness and understanding in the process. After all, love is a burning thing.

-David