invisible footprints

All things of beauty are born of pain. There is nothing that we know as beautiful that doesn't have some a root that grows out of a torturous soil. ALL things. Babies are beautiful, but their birth isn't a back massage. All forms of art that we see and experience were created from hours of toil and strife in the artist's life. Beauty, it would seem, is the reward for a struggle and we appreciate it on a sliding scale which is determined by the price that is paid for it in human suffering.

I have been touring for most of the last decade. It's not been a solid 10 years of week to week touring, but sometimes it can feel that way. This recent trip puts me on the comedy trail roaming around post-Christmas Washington state, seeking out comedy enlightenment amid the glow of dated Christmas lights that are in desperate need of coming down. It's sounds a bit bitter, I know, but truely I am in heaven and love what they are doing for me.

After the holiday rush is over and the systematic urge to say, "Merry Christmas" is over, all we are left with is a few burned out Christmas lights and a mound of wrapping paper in our garbage cans to remember what happened in Bethleham, 2005 years ago. I'm pretty sure that Mary would really love that fact. So would her son. (even though he has up staged her efforts on this holiday.. traditionally) You could easily get lost in the depressive nature of it all or you can find a new celebration in the refuse of the holiday hype. A man in my position that is found driving all over the backroads of America is treated to a "silenter" night than any of the nights leading up to the big selfish-fest. A sea of glowing, blinking reds and blues. Lights dancing across the roof tops and around fence lines. Trees filled with multi-colored bulbs that seem to be suspended in mid air as the tree disappears into the nighttime darkness. There is a beauty to it all, just for a few days. I know that it wasn't easy for those people to put up those lights and I can appreciate their efforts. I know the motivation isn't for pleasing a lone comic driving past the house, but I can believe it is.

These shows that mark the terminal of my daily travel are becoming a blur and I am trying desperately not to think of them as just money as that is what made me leave the road in the past. I want to think that there is a beauty to what I am doing and that everywhere I go, something like accidental Christmas light appreciation, is being experienced. Sometimes you can do a show and everyone loves it and there is nothing but praise and love for you as you leave the stage and make your way to... to... well, nowhere. After a show, it's just done. All you can do is just wait out the night and make another move the next day. Then it's on to another town to try and duplicate the success of the night before. You can try and bask in the glow of your success, but rarely is it as fulfilling as you want it to be. Most of the time I suck at letting people know that I am thankful for their appreciation. I really try, but I hear it come out of my mouth and I know if I had said something wonderful to someone and it was met with what I said, I would feel pretty cheated. It's a vicious cycle that I see quite often.

Of course, it's better than having a terrible show and wanting to rip your eyes out. Not only were you a failure, but you traveled a long way to be a failure and the only relief is a good show that may or may not be in the next town. If the crowd will part for you after a good show, it's not going to flinch when you walk by after a bad one. There is nothing like having the label of persona non grata in a bar full of angry drunks. A bad show is almost enough inspiration to leave town without getting paid and without gathering up your luggage. I would like to say there is a beauty in all of this, but there isn't. I know that the beauty will come from the lessons I learn and what this will motivate me to do in the future. There, and only there will the beauty be found in this moment.

For all of these great shows and bad shows and countless hours of driving, there is going to be a moment when someone sees my show and is overwhelmed by it. They will get a moment of joy and see a beauty in it that I have never known myself. It's then that all the struggle will be worth it. They will never see the amount of pain that was endured to bring it to them, they will only know the moment we shared and I hope I have the ability to express my gratitude for their appreciation.

For all beauty there is a pain. For every holiday cheer there are holiday tears. For every laugh riot there is a deadly silence of people that do not get the joke and want you to know that not only do they do not get it, but they don't even want to try. For every house that is lit up on my way, there is a house that is dark. And for every painful step toward a dream-laden future, there is someone that is willing to carry you away on their shoulders.