Comparison Kills Meaning

Hi Folks,

In the last letter, I mentioned a little about the story of my younger years at music school.

If you've not read that, you can do so here.

(Oh, before I forget, I'm going to experiment with the length of these letters. You may find some of them shorter than others. If you have a preference, please let me know.)

Back to the story...

This time 30 years ago, while at music school, I spent the Christmas break writing rock songs. I had the idea of releasing an EP and over those few weeks, I knocked out a number of demos (the number 11 comes to mind.)

I never released the songs and six months later I met a Tibetan lama and my life changed in an instant.

In my first meeting with the lama, we were walking together when he asked what I did. Full of ego I said, "I'm a musician and I go to the Victorian College of the Arts." He just smiled and sounding just like Yoda said, "Music...just entertainment."

These words felt like freedom. They lifted a huge weight of self-imposed comparison. At the time it was exactly what I needed. I believe the Tibetan lama could see this. And could see that the only way forward for me was by removing myself from a toxic environment. And it was toxic—two kids I knew from music school, one I knew very well, died of drug overdoses.

So a few months after meeting the Tibetan lama, I decided to give up music for good. Instead, I wanted to become a monk and dedicate myself to a life of meditation and study. And I did just that. And in the following 30 years, I've not given music or the career I gave up a second thought. But if you've read any of my journal posts, you will have noticed I've been struggling with what to do with the remainder of my life now that I am no longer a monk.

So, on Sunday night three weeks ago, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I prayed. I prayed for a sign of what to do. I didn't ask for more than this. And at this point, I really did not care what the answer would be. I just needed one so I could get on with my life. Then I crawled into bed and meditated myself to sleep.

I woke 7 hours later, shocked!

I realized that all night there was a message being sent to me. It was not a dream as it felt like it was coming from outside of myself. Dreams on the other hand always feel like they are coming from inside. It was like warm sunlight embedded with a clear message.

Play guitar. Do it well. And on my terms.

(Side note: I played saxophone in jazz music school. But the message was most definitely to play guitar instead. So I went out the following day and bought a guitar.)

However you prefer to label the divine—God, Buddha, The Universe, or even the Freudian Subconscious—my prayer was answered with such clarity it was impossible to miss.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. For I simply did not see this coming. Not in a million years would I have thought this was an option. I guess because while music was such a large part of my identity as a young man, it was also closely tied to an egoic mindset of self-indulgence and self-importance.

In the cosmic sense, 30 years is a mere blip in time. Yet, for us humans, 30 years is a long. So, while I'm grateful for everything in my life, at the same time I feel like it's all too late. Still, I am comforted by the idea I have another 30-something years to go. And a lot can be achieved in that time.

Exactly where this will all go, I cannot say I can say I feel a direction that has been missing for a long time. And with everything I've learned from my life, I know this time will be less toxic and full of meaning.

And to me, meaning is all that matters. The more we can bring true meaning, divine meaning, to the ordinary things we do in life, the more meaningful life becomes.

It's interesting to me to see that the title of my newsletter, Notes on a Contemplative Life, now takes on a new meaning. When this dawned on me I smiled.

The surprises of life are truly amazing!

much love,

Clarke Scott