Expressed Values: A Micro Case Study on the Highway to Yeah
Discovering, understanding, and living your deepest-held values is a big part of getting out on the Highway to Yeah.
My journey so far has been a lifetime of unconsciously living them as a child, then forgetting them as I grew, even suppressing them while I worked for “the man,” followed by a renewed process of rediscovery, understanding, and living from them.
The journey continues.
This past week, in general, has been a tough one for me.
Everything is actually going great, and I am living a truly blessed life, but my insides have been churning. My subjective well-being has been teetering, if you will.
On the one hand, I have been eager to prioritize and get moving on the big dream goals I want to pursue, and I am making progress on that front.
On the other hand, it has been a week of doubts, perceived failures, mild depression, and feelings of slight wounding.
In general, it’s been a week of asking, Where the heck is my life going? Something feels off, and I’ve been trying to answer the question, What am I going to do about it?
This morning, I spent some time reflecting on my core values again, and that was helpful.
I wanted to see if I could isolate my five most important values from the ten I shared in a previous article (“What If You Don’t Know Your Values or Dreams?”). In that article, they are listed alphabetically. What I wanted to do today was rank them according to their importance to the life I want to build and live.
They are all important, but they serve different purposes.
Yesterday, I played at an open mic and left with doubts, a feeling of mild failure, mild depression, and slight wounding.
Why?
I think looking at the experience through the lens of my values helps explain it, particularly my top five.
My Bottom (or Supporting) five values were also at play to some extent, so let me cover those quickly.
Simplicity — I am going to open mics that are nearby and don’t require overnight stays.
Learning — I am gaining experience on stage and learning how to perform under different audience and venue conditions.
Contribution — I am supporting the host in making these events happen each week. If no one is there to play, why keep doing them?
Play & Aliveness — Although it’s been a bit of a mixed bag this last week, getting out, playing music, meeting new people, and having the experience is still Fun in the Sun.
Adventure — Packing up, driving forty-five minutes or more to a venue, and seeing how the event unfolds is its own little adventure.
By going and playing, I was honoring each of these values.
That’s great.
Now let’s turn to what I think may be my top five values, and why I left with the funk—not the good kind of funky that I dig.
Freedom
I have the time freedom to attend.
I have the psychological freedom to get up there and see what happens.
I have the freedom to live my truth, symbolized in one way by the original songs I perform, and in another by honoring my calling to perform at all.
Check.
This value was lived and honored yesterday.
Authentic Becoming
By standing on stage and performing my original songs, I am honoring this value that seeks integration, individuation, and self-actualization.
Not perfectly, but it is another incremental step toward those goals.
Check.
This value was lived and honored yesterday.
Beauty
Ah…
Now I begin to see where the funk may have started.
One of my goals at these open mics is to give my top forty or fifty songs some airtime.
I rotate them each time I play.
I walk into the venue prepared to perform three songs, with an order already in mind. If time allows, I know what the fourth song will be. If I get even more time, I have two others rehearsed from earlier in the day, along with many more that I can comfortably pull up and play.
As it turned out yesterday, I played four songs and later got to go back up and play three more.
But my real goal is to discover the beautiful songs.
The ones that represent my best work.
The ones that reflect and reveal deeper truths.
The ones that authentically express the art and messages I want my music to convey.
Stepping back, I recognize that my first three songs are ones I’ve been on the fence about.
Perhaps we’ll record them someday, but do they belong in my live performance rotation?
Or do they need further refinement before they earn a place in that smaller collection of songs?
Then there is the mood of the venue.
Do the songs fit the place?
Do they align with the culture of that audience?
And is the place itself a reflection of the kind of beauty I value?
Yes… and no.
My songs were a little out of step with the mood of the room.
I also think this audience primarily wanted to hear cover songs.
It’s a roadside bar.
Not ugly—but beautiful in an ugly sort of way, if you know what I mean.
I also played one of my most provocative songs.
Immediately afterward, a couple got up and left, followed by another musician who had come to play.
Did they dislike the lyrics?
“Up against the wall. Up against the wall.
You better stand there while we’re looking at you.
Up against the wall. Up against the wall!
We’re fascists, Mother Truckers, yeah!”
Perhaps.
But it was probably just a coincidence.
And if it wasn’t…
Well, sorry—not sorry.
The song is meant to provoke thought and understanding, not division.
Check… with reservations.
I honored this value yesterday, but it was also one source of the friction that contributed to the funk.
Creative Expression
This one is interesting.
Simply getting on stage and performing original songs is absolutely aligned with this value.
But was I expressing myself in the way I imagine I can when I am at my best?
Was I expressing my thing—the quality that differentiates my songs and performances from everyone else’s?
Or was I simply dialing it in Yesterday?
I didn’t engage with the audience in the way I have on other occasions.
I didn’t really open myself up.
I stood there and delivered, expecting my physical presence, my voice, and my songs to do all the heavy lifting.
I’m still learning how to do this.
A little failure is good feedback.
I don’t think this was the primary source of the funk, but it was definitely another lesson.
Check.
This is one reason I committed to my One Hit Wonder of playing 100 open mics over the next year.
Every performance is another opportunity to express myself creatively and learn how to do it just a little better.
Deep Human Connection
This is where I think the funk mostly came from.
When I played my songs, I felt very little connection with the audience.
In return, I received very little attention or appreciation.
It felt as though I was invisible.
Or that I completely sucked.
I know I don’t suck.
I know I am visible.
But wow…
It was way off.
It was also a very small group of performers yesterday.
Two regulars were there whom I genuinely enjoy.
One performs only original songs like I do, and he’s dang good.
We click.
That’s fun.
The other guy is a true artist—very authentic—and I don’t think the audience quite knows what to make of him either.
The host is a terrific singer-songwriter and a warm, charismatic presence.
I always enjoy seeing him.
However, at least five regulars weren’t there, and they always add to the fun.
But ultimately, it came back to the lack of audience response.
During my second set, I opened with a song that usually pleases a crowd.
Very little reaction.
Then I tested a song that had never been played live before.
Almost no reaction there, either.
Finally, I closed with Escape My Desperation, which happened to describe exactly how I felt in that moment.
Ironically, that one connected with some of the audience.
Interesting.
Well…
There you go.
I share this little case study of my own experience through the lens of my values in the hope that it might encourage you to begin looking at your own day-to-day experiences from a similar perspective.
It is a revealing process.
It can help you understand what is happening, why you are having certain thoughts and feelings about it, and perhaps offer some insight into what to do next as you continue your own journey forward.