What would you sing?

If someone gave you a microphone and a stage, what would you say and what would you sing? Whether the crowd was 10 people or 10,000, what would you make with the moment?

I was going to write a letter to the frontmen--the folks who sing in bands. I was going to say that there should be a system or some classes where they would be reminded that music is a very special thing; something not unlike a miracle, rich with history and the potential to move people and change lives. They would learn about urgency and honesty, the value of a moment and a song's unique ability to cause people to feel, to remind them that they're alive and that life is worth living.

And it crossed my mind to say those things because lately, it seems like there's been moments when everyone is forgetting. I'm bored with watching guys play to thousands of people and it feels like everyone says the same thing in saying nothing: "How you motherf****s doing?" is followed by a request for the world's largest circle pit. Congratulations. You are the fourth band in a row to say the exact same thing.

Are you kidding me? You beat the odds by making it and they hand you this electronic thing that makes your voice louder and that's the best you could come up with? That's what you wanted to tell the world? The stage is sacred. It's above the ground so that people can see the magic when it happens; so that people can see something bigger than the sum of its parts; something louder than the same dumb joke, brighter than the latest neon trend. Tell us your story. Show us your heart. Remind us of our own. Point to something. In the silence between songs, point to something that matters, some question or problem that steals your sleep at night. Invite us to be part of the solution.

But maybe the lessons are not just for the guys with microphones. Maybe this stuff applies to all of us. It's been said that all the world's a stage and that maybe we all have some kind of influence and opportunities to say real things and move people. The stage in front of the crowd is this obvious place where it happens, but maybe it's true that we each have our songs to sing and venues to play. We each get a few people who listen and a few people to listen to. We each have our jobs and our schools and all the places where life happens. We live in a world filled with needs and opportunities. Every person has a story. There's plenty of room for meaning, depth and change. Don't buy the lie that says there's only room for jokes and it's cooler not to care about anything. The bar has been set way too low. There's room for magic and inspiration. There's room to live a better story.

The show starts now. alt

Jamie Tworkowski is the founder of To Write Love On Her Arms, a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. Since 2006, TWLOHA has responded to 100,000 messages from over 100 countries. They've also given $500,000 directly to treatment and recovery. Tworkowski will be speaking at universities across America this fall. Visit www.twloha.com for more info.

The original blog can be found here: http://www.altpress.com/features/blogtwloha.htm

What is this?

This is love that I leave you standing where you are
because you don’t know what motivates me to walk out that door.
Silence is golden and im afraid my tongue is running out of things to say.
Speak in whispers for the screams can only carry so far.
Say the things that my mind has always wished to hear.
Pretty lady I fear the disputes that have gone unsettled
are burning the rope that holds this all together.
Dismantling is looking more like a plausibility than a nightmare.
Don’t you look at me un the ways that you used to.
Can’t you remember the times when I held you close
or when I looked in your eyes and told you I loved you?
Where was your heart in the times I felt love most?
It’s starting to look as if everything we’ve shared has been another monument to your soul. \
I’m not writing another love piece dedicated to our being together
in the field of gorgeous flowers and music.
This is me writing my goodbye and resignation from everything that reminds me of you!
Because the static on my TV screen is telling me to go
It’s gotten so much worse from when you first came along
It used to remind me of how your voice was always the loudest thing in my head
But now it’s just that annoying bedlam that tells me that there is no longer a signal here
Disconnection is needed most because we are all just lost boys
I’ve started smoking up again in a useless attempt to try and get you out of my head
But my lungs are praying for something that’s more secure than basing my life upon the fact that
without this smoke choking me out I’ve got nothing to depend on.
And God I thought you were supposed to be bigger than the world that I find myself living in
But it turns out that my expectations have been a little bit too high for you to perform.
Well the show must go on and I believe I can fly
And my faith is only the size of something smaller than a mustard seed
Here’s to another lonely night where I’m left thinking about all the memories that we shared.
I used to worship you like a god and now you’ve walked out on me too
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY SUMMER
And I was supposed to be your Cohen
But the static in the silence is breaking this all down
And I find myself slowly walking out that door
This is not the life I wanted to be a part of because I don’t want to think of a life without you!