Speaking the Truth in a World of Lies
One of the most powerful musical experiences of my life took place at an outdoor performance of a Navajo drumming circle in the center of Santa Fe, New Mexico. The musicians knew they’d been brought into the town square to entertain tourists, but that didn’t seem to alter their music. They played and sang—for each other, for the earth, and (perhaps) for all of us standing around them. And I, a white woman with little knowledge of Navajo music and culture, and no knowledge of the language, was swept into something so real, so truthful, so ancient that I stood shaking, tears running down my face.
Truth is like that. When encountered in a piece of music, a word, a work of art, or the icon of the face of one who embodies integrity, it changes the world. And here’s the crucial bit: we don’t need to understand it to be transformed by it. Truth speaks through cultural differences and language barriers. Its clarity shines through forms and functions. When music is created and played from a place of deep truth, it has the ability to speak to anyone who is willing to open themselves to it.
This is the power of music and those who make it. Instead of adding to the din of voices spewing anger, narcissism, and outrage, musicians possess the tools to speak eternal truths in a language deeper than words. The notes we play are capable of bypassing a listener’s language police, skirting around the ego, and going straight to the heart. And in doing so, a part of the listener’s humanity is touched by a part of the musician’s. At this level, music is more than communication; it’s communion.
This is also the responsibility of the musician. And it’s damn hard, because in order to speak truth, we must see and embody it ourselves. Second-hand truths—no matter how prettily presented—ring hollow. The only thing that communicates is what we’ve lived and know at the core of ourselves. As musicians this is, of course, the music itself, but it’s also how we live our lives and whether or not we’re capable of looking at who we are with honesty and compassion. The uncomplicated clarity of truth can be a searchlight that forces us to see all the lies and half-truths we tell ourselves and other people. Truth uncompromisingly reminded us of how often we are more interested in feeding our egos than becoming more human. Truth, in essence, requires humility; it requires change. It requires us to ask ourselves if we want to be authentic, or if we prefer to just present an image of “authenticity.” False humility is just as dangerous a lie as any other.
I believe that truth is a process, not (for most of us) an unchanging conviction. Many times we need to circle around the same truths repeatedly, only at deeper and deeper levels. Many times we stumble, for as soon as we think we’ve cornered the truth, we’ve mostly likely fallen into yet another pit of self-delusion. But I’m convinced that if I’m caught up in a self-affirming echo chamber of ego gratification, I’ll never see things clearly and truthfully. I’m convinced that if most (or all) of my thoughts center around “I-Me-Mine,” I’m miles away from the integrity I purport to seek. And so, in my halting and not-always-successful way, I’ve come to believe that cutting through self-delusion requires me to do these three things:
Listen to myself
Listen, and stop making excuses for the times and places where I’ve been more invested in maintaining a perfect image of myself than owning my own s**t. Listen, and hear the quiet, calm conviction that exists below the chaos of everyday chatter. Listen, and breathe into the truth I discover, even if it’s painful.
Listen to others
Listen, and learn from others’ observations, experiences, and examples rather than assuming that I alone have a direct line to Wisdom. Listen, and accept that other people may have a clearer picture of where and when I’m compromising my integrity and myself for social or career gain.
Speak the truth with humble conviction
Speak, and admit my fault when I’ve failed or just been flat wrong. Speak, and share what I know most deeply, even when what I have to say isn’t in tune with the zeitgeist of the current moment.
Playing and speaking the truth won’t necessarily build a career, create a large social media following, or bring fame and fortune. But it will change lives, starting with our own. In this increasingly fragmented world where lies are currency and people feel isolated and alienated, truthful musicians and human beings are needed more than ever. We’ll never be perfect, but we can be something much more powerful than perfection: fully human. And in that complete and honest humanity, we possess the power to help heal the world.