Never Did That Before
This past Saturday I blew glass at the Big Funky Blues Festival. It was the first time that I had ever taken our furnace and set-up out in the public and actually made glass with people watching.
Pessimistic me was a little nervous leading up to the event, worrying that one thing or another wouldn't work out. It really wouldn't have been that big of a deal other than the fact that it had been advertised all over the place, that there would be glass blowing at the event. And so my worry was that if my set-up didn't work out, well, I would feel like a big failure.
Lots of things in life are that way. I try something new and get caught in focusing more on failure than anything else. It shouldn't be that way. Almost everything I've tried, even though I may not have accomplished what I set out to do, has left me with a little nugget, a little memory, something that holds a dear spot in my heart, that had nothing to do with success or failure.
Goals, success, failure, of course they have their place. I've never yet returned from a hunting trip, without someone asking the big question, "Well, did you get anything?" Sometimes the simple "yes" or the painful "no" is all they want to hear. It's often the way our culture measures things. Success or failure.
I try hard to not let success or failure be the total focus of my existence, but it's really easy to hold everything up against that measuring stick, especially when everyone else seems to be. But looking back and remembering all the good things, and the bad for that matter, that happened in my life, they aren't dependent on whether or not I've been successful.
I remember hunting in Colorado with my uncle and my cousin. I had a mule deer tag that I was able to fill, but the much bigger memory is having three bull elk come walking by me. I didn't have an elk tag and so I just held perfectly still. The bulls kept coming. The closest one walked by at seven yards. That's right! Seven big steps! So close that I can almost still smell it just thinking about it.
By now you're probably wondering or thinking that the festival must have been a bust, seeing that I'm trying to redirect your focus.
Well it wasn't a bust. It was a "success". Jenelle sold a lot of glass and people came and watched me blow glass and my furnace worked and it was a good day.
But my nugget. I asked if I could camp out there on Friday night to watch my furnace as I wanted to be able to check on it from time to time.
"Of course. No problem". And since the guys that brought the stage and did the sound, had a million dollars or so worth of equipment just sitting there, they asked if I would sleep on the stage, so that no one would mess with their stuff.
And so I did. I plopped my cot in the middle of alI of the amps and equipment and set my alarm for every couple of hours so that I could check my furnace. The stars were bright and the canvas wall on the back flapped occasionally in the wind. It was a good night for sleeping on an outdoor stage.
And now I can't say that I've never done that before.
In fact, it's a good memory that I'll look back on. Probably one that I'll never forget!
