Living to write (and writing to live)

You ever read something that makes you stop and catch your breath? Of course, you have. We all do it, and when it happens, we really should pause and think about why it resonates so hard. Take a beat and ask ourselves, ‘What are these words trying to tell me?’, because that’s the essence of self-reflection and understanding ourselves, after all. I have those moments fairly often, if I’m being honest. I spend a lot of time in my own head and I’m a veritable expert at trying to sort myself out. Notice I said ‘trying’ because I’m not there yet. At 38 years old, I have only just begun to understand who I am as a person, as a woman, as a mother, as a wife and as a friend. The version of myself that existed yesterday may not match the prototype of tomorrow, and recognizing and accepting that is half the battle towards self-discovery, isn’t it? I’m a work in progress, but I’m on the right path, and that surely is enough.

Now, back to my ‘Stop/Think/Reflect/Acknowledge’ moment of late. This one came about a month ago, while reading an interview with a longtime friend and accomplished songwriter Chris Trapper. He was being interviewed by Rob Azevedo for Granite State of Mind and Chris said, 'We all need to live a little if we want to write about living’ and I stopped short. I caught my breath in signature Lauren fashion, audible enough for my family to hear and question, and I said, ‘Now that resonates…’ and I began a month-long meditation to find out, ‘Why?’

To get a sense of how deeply I felt that statement, maybe you need to understand my history with Chris to begin with, so I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version, but I’ll make no promises that I won’t ‘Lauren it up’ (a descriptive act that a dear friend assigned to me years back and it stuck in the most heartwarming of ways). The year was 1996 and the girl was 15 years old. It was a typical New York summer day and I was listening to my favorite local radio station in my childhood bedroom. The DJ introduced new music from a band called The Push Stars and I paid a little extra attention because I liked their name and had an affinity for feeling like I was on the cutting edge of things. The song, ‘Me’, caught me from the start. I loved the singer’s voice, hung on every word of a song that I didn’t quite understand but knew was special, and by the end, decided that I was their newest fan. When the song finished, the DJ announced that the band would be playing at a street fair the following weekend and I marched out to the kitchen to implore my father to bring me.

I come by my love of music fairly and squarely from my father. I was raised on great music and my father never missed an opportunity to share that with his kids. He’d blare his 8 Tracks and records every weekend and my mother would always yell for him to ‘Turn it down’, but who could hear her over the music anyway? I loved sharing music with my father, and still do any chance that I get when I travel home to New York. And so, without hesitation, my father promised to bring me, my sisters and some friends to that street fair the following weekend. It was a perfect summer day and I found a spot right in front of the stage to watch my ‘new favorite band’. After their set, I was flying high. Jazzed up in a way that was pretty uncharacteristic for my awkward 15-year-old self (I’m still awkward, by the way), I marched up to the singer and said, ‘Hi, I’m Lauren.’ He graciously shook my hand, introduced himself as Chris, and let me yammer on about how great I thought they were, how much I loved their music and how honored I was to be meeting him. Have I mentioned that I’m awkward? I’m sure he thought I was crazy, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked if we were coming to their show the following month. I said probably not, since it was at a bar, but that I’d try. Much to my surprise, he said, ‘Come. We’ll make sure you get in.’ And thus, began a long and winding history of following The Push Stars, and eventually Chris Trapper as a solo artist, across nearly 25 years, 7 states and countless venues. If you know me at all, you know how much I admire not just the music but this man himself. I’m really grateful to know him all these years and that he continues to pursue his dream of recording and performing. And on a personal note, he sparked something in me, too, on that hot mid-90s (temperature and era) afternoon. I’ve never been the gutsy girl who introduces herself to strangers, but with him, I did it, and it set in motion many years of being inspired by a really great artist.

Which brings me full circle, back to that quote, and back to why it resonated. Perhaps it’s because I see Chris tirelessly pursuing a dream, or maybe because he reminds me of being fearless myself, but when I read those words, I couldn’t help but HEAR them, too. A lot of my hang-ups about sharing my writing are rooted in anxiety about exposing myself. I feel vulnerable when I share my struggles and insights, stumbles and triumphs. But I also see that there is a value and a place for them in this community. So, I press on and tell myself that I can help people BECAUSE of those experiences that I’ve had, not in spite of them. Does that make sense? I’ve had to live a little to write about living. I’ve had to have health scares that have threatened my life. I’ve had to experience immeasurable losses and had my heart broken by people I thought I could trust. I’ve had to learn tough lessons about letting people in and the dangers of letting them get too close. I’ve hard to go through violations and betrayals, both figuratively and literally, to arrive at the version of myself that I am today. And I’m nothing if not pulled to write about and share them.

So, yeah, 'We all need to live a little if we want to write about living’ and I hope that you can tattoo those words onto your heart just like I have onto mine. Be brave, be bold and use those experiences in your own life, too. Share them in ways that feel comfortable and channel them into means that foster healing. And whether it’s through written word like me, or songwriting like Chris, I pray you feel a freedom that transcends any fear that once stood in your way. I know I intend to, with every beat of my broken and bruised, but still very much worthy, heart.

In the photo: That 15 year old girl, with those friends, on that sidewalk outside that bar, with those musicians known as The Push Stars. There is no other photo I could imagine using for this post.