How is it possible for a person’s heart to be so completely divided? When I see pictures of New York City, I want with all of my heart to drop everything and go live & love there for the rest of my days. And when I see pictures of a ranch in Colorado, I want with all of my heart to drop everything and live as a ranch hand for the rest of my days. And yet somehow, I don’t picture my life panning out in either of those directions. Life is weird.
What’s your take on this divided heart phenomenon?
“Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.” -C.S. Lewis
I hope C.S. Lewis is right. Because, I had the realization last night that I care more about being authentic than I do about being creative. Although I would love to be a “brilliant” artist, whose work is original, groundbreaking, and influential, I just don’t know that it’s going to happen. I’m not Debussy (whose teacher told him he couldn’t use chords with the ninth interval in them for his compositions – which Debussy did – that only geniuses could accomplish that), or G-Dragon (who writes a song and has the entire performance/stage design/music video concept already in his head), or Ryan Tedder (who’s written and produced for practically everyone on the planet; ok, the list might not be quite that long, but still). I don’t think the most outside the box of anyone I know, and am constantly astounded by artists who do things I would never think to do.
On one hand, that can be discouraging, because I think, “Man, I probably won’t leave a serious artistic mark the way these people do.” I mean, it’s sort of a bummer, as an artist, to think that you might not have quite as much artistic greatness in you as you hope.
On the other hand, it throws into sharp relief that which really matters. Madeleine L’Engle gets right to the heart of what I believe about being an artist in her book, Walking on Water, and it guides me as I think about creativity. She says this about artists, “For an artist is not a consumer, as our commercials urge us to be. An artist is a nourisher and a creator who knows that during the act of creation there is collaboration. We do not create alone…We are to be in this world as healers, as listeners, and as servants.” And again, “ Art is communication, and if there is no communication it is as though the work had been still-born…So there is no evading the fact that the artist yearns for ‘success,’ because that means that there has been a communication of the vision: that all the struggle has not been invalid.”
And I realize. At the end of the day, what I really care about is that my art communicates, and serves its listeners, aids their healing and growth and nourishment, the way so many other artists’ work has done for me. What I really care about is putting something out there that is, at its core, true and real.
Now, that’s not to say that I don’t try to get out of my normal creative confines, and expand myself as an artist. Try things I normally wouldn’t try. Look for ways to be different than what’s already out there, different than what I’ve done in the past. But the bottom line is this, I don’t want to create art that is “out of the box” or “creative” (but that doesn’t resonate within my own heart) simply because I want to be considered innovative – I believe this would inevitably produce art that may look creative at the outset, but would fall flat with anyone who interacts with it. What a dreadful thought.
So, without copping out in my pursuit of growth and excellence in my own art, I find myself coming to terms with my strengths and weaknesses as an artist, surrendering to the fact that major artistic impact won’t, perhaps, be in my future, but feeling wholly compelled by the fact that impact of a different sort may very well be beckoning.
Side note: It occurs to me that some of the artists I listed have whole TEAMS of people around them, helping to shape them, collaborating with them, and pushing forward a decided upon vision. So maybe I shouldn’t be too discouraged by my own perceived lack of creativity as a sole person. Maybe the brilliance of G-Dragon and Ryan Tedder are a testament to collaboration and the sum of the parts? Or maybe they really are prodigies; somebody’s got to be. Maybe I’ll get to meet these guys someday and ask them. *keep dreaming Jenn*
I was walking down the hallway at church with an enormous bouquet of roses when Pete Radke stopped me and said excitedly, “Who gave you those?” I cheerfully informed him that I was simply the delivery girl; the roses were from my parents for someone else, and I was on my way to the recipient. He promptly said, jokingly, “Oh you shouldn’t tell people that, you look so impressive carrying them,” like it was a huge let down that someone had not just madly confessed their love for me with a huge wad of flowers. We both laughed and went on our ways, and I’ll never forget that funny moment and those “impressive” roses.
I was acquainted with Pete through his wife, Michelle (she and I sing on worship team together at church). Whenever I saw him at 
church on the weekends, his demeanor was always just like his picture (over there on the right), a warm smile and a genuine interest in how your life was going.
Pete gave his life last weekend, helping to rescue someone at Lake Erie (read the full story), and yesterday, I went to his funeral. And it was huge. Some 1500 people came to the calling hours, and probably around 600-700 attended the funeral. I had the privilege of singing as part of the vocal choir for his funeral, and standing on stage looking out at the jam-packed auditorium was stunning. I was floored at the impact Pete had on his world with only 43 short years of life.
After the funeral, I was talking to a couple guys who played in the worship band for the funeral, and we all agreed that other people’s funerals make us wonder about our own. Who will come? What will they say about us? What will be the measure of our life when it’s all said and done?
Pete measured his life and success by whether it was significant or not, and seeing a room jam-packed with people who had been personally impacted by him made me realize what I want my own funeral to be like someday.
As an artist, as a singer, as someone hoping for a career in music, in performing, it is natural to dream about singing for stadiums filled with people, and to get really excited when someone says they love watching you on stage, or they really connected to a song you wrote, and so on. Of course my pipe dream is to “hit it big” and sing for stadiums filled with people around the world, and win awards, and be considered an influential artist for my time. I DO hope people will hear my songs and connect to them and be served by them (because in my mind, my art is not fully alive if it doesn’t communicate with and nourish people).
And while I’m not saying that fame and personal impact are mutually exclusive, I hope I’m not famous – or at least not only famous. I hope that at the end of my life, on the day after I take my last breath, and they do with my body whatever they must, that people don’t come to my funeral because they heard my songs or saw me on a stage or admired me from a distance. I hope my funeral is like Pete’s funeral, and people come because I had a personal impact on their life, because they knew me and I knew them, and they felt loved by me, and loved by Jesus because of me.
And lest I do Pete’s life a grave disservice, I simply must mention his faith. Pete loved & followed Jesus, was loved by Jesus, and was able to have the impact he did because every day, he gave away the love that Jesus had given him– to his family, friends, co-workers, church family and eventually the stranger he helped to rescue on Lake Erie.
That is what I want my life to be about and my funeral to measure up to – the full and wonderful significance of being loved by Jesus and giving that love away.
I’m SO excited to reveal to you my first ever music video!
©2014 Jenny Baird & Jonathan Volk Photography
Read the story behind the song…
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Less than a week ago, my newest single, “Austin”, made it’s debut in the digital markets (check out the Music section to give it a listen or purchase).
And since we have a little space here on my blog, I thought I’d tell you a bit about this newest confessional single of mine.
I wrote “Austin” over a year ago, at a time when I was madly in love with the guy I was dating.
I was madly in love, and he hadn’t told me he loved me yet, but I was bursting to say the words to him. I never thought I would be the first person to say “I love you” in a relationship, but it couldn’t be helped. It felt like the words were suffocating me not to say them, so I finally told him “the words one at a time”.
In the end, the relationship didn’t work out (don’t worry though, he didn’t bolt because I told him I loved him, he’s made of sterner stuff than that), and I considered “never singing ‘Austin’ again” since I had written it about this person. But I realized 2 very important things…
#1) I felt like “Austin” was just way too good a song to throw out the window.
#2) More importantly, even though I had written this song about someone who I could no longer be with, I ultimately didn’t write it for him. I wrote it for myself, to work through my struggle to gather up my courage and for the first time ever confess to someone “I’m in love with you.” This is no small feat, saying something so risky and scary, don’t you think?
So, I survived the breakup, and thankfully, so did “Austin”. Hope you enjoy it! 😉
This morning surprised me with it’s loveliness. I had no exceptional plans. I simply had to run to the office to pack up my desk for the move to the new office building this week, and then hang out with my friend (and bandmate), Nana, a little later in the day.
Being at the office was a great start to the morning, going through files, chatting and joking with my teammates, tasting ice-cream made entirely of fruit. I packed up my desk into one box and am excited to come to a totally new workspace on Thursday. New workspaces always stimulate my brain and give me a fresh sense of adventure and creativity.
But the best part of the morning, and what lit up my whole heart, was stopping by the bank before arriving at Nana’s. As I was standing at the counter filling out my deposit form, I heard someone call my name. Look to the left. There’s Papa! Papa, my wonderful grandfather who I really only see once a week at Sunday lunch, is standing in line to make his own deposits. So we stand in line together and chat about his morning, and he tells me to go in front of him, because Grammy is waiting in the car, and I can go chat with her while he’s making his deposits.
When I come out to Grammy’s car, I sit in Papa’s driver seat, and Grammy gives me a kiss and we chat about what she bought at Macy’s and how we wish our whole family (all 25 of us, all of Grammy’s & Papa’s kids & grandkids) could make it out to the lake house for our fall vacation. But we’re all scattered throughout the country, so I suppose we’ll take what we can get as far as time together. The breeze came in the car windows, and wrapped gently around our conversation until Papa came out ready to go. I wished them a good day and walked back to my own car and the day ahead.
I can’t tell you how lovely it was to have those small, spontaneous conversations with my most lovely grandparents. Sometimes, I don’t even know how much I need that small touch of human connection from those who love me most.
…I am currently going through a break-up (WAH WAH! :() . A few thoughts below on going through this time of pain in my life, written March 22nd:
Just watched a clip of a seminarian talking about how when we suffer, Jesus suffers with us. And I get what he’s saying, Jesus has compassion on us and is with us in our suffering and pain, comforting us. Afterall, he is the “God of all comfort” (as stated somewhere in Corinthians). But I guess I just don’t relate to the sentiment that Jesus suffers because we suffer. In the same way that I believe pain confirms, rather than denies, the presence of God in my life, I believe that when I/we suffer, Jesus does not suffer with me, but I am suffering with him. When I suffer, I gain small pieces of understanding into the immense suffering Jesus endured for his Father’s glory and for each of us. And THAT is what comforts me and breaks my heart all at the same time. I have Jesus, a high priest who empathizes with me, and yet also, by my sin and previous rejection of God, I caused him the suffering he endured in order to be able to empathize with me. So even though it sincerely and deeply SUCKS when I suffer, it also shows me more of the immense love my Father, his Son and The Holy Spirit have for me to go through Jesus coming to earth, living, suffering, dying and rising again to reconcile us to God. It’s worth it, suffering is worth it to know Jesus more. It really, really is. I would not trade it in or rewind the clocks and erase the events that led up to this.
Jenny Baird 