Belief and commitment
When I was sixteen, I performed for the first time with a band, a small acoustic trio we called Trip. We opened for our friends in Orange, a power-pop outfit, at the rec center of Star of the Sea Catholic Church in our hometown of York, Maine.
I had been playing guitar for only a few months. Our repertoire was mostly covers, including the Dylan’s “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” and the Eagles’ “Hotel California.”
Looking back, I cannot recall a moment in which I thought, “Maybe no one wants to hear us play a seven-minute song” or “Who am I to get up in front of people and play music?” or “I haven’t been playing long enough to perform.” I had total belief in my ability and total conviction in my right to be there, on stage (really, on gymnasium floor) in front of an audience.
And that’s what made it work, against all odds. That’s what always makes it work.
A key ingredient in a difficult undertaking is this type of belief, perhaps irrational at first, that success is inevitable and deserved. Along with it, ideally, comes a commitment to this belief and to carrying out the necessary steps to ensure that the belief is valid. There is a bit of a recursive relationship between these elements: the commitment strengthens the belief, the belief strengthens the commitment, and all escape routes are sealed.
Belief and commitment support the aspiring artist, entrepreneur, or jai alai player through the necessary work that precedes success. It’s a much harder slog if you’re constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering whether you’re cut out for what you’re trying to do, whether it’s even what you should be doing, and so on. Unconditional belief helps you to push through the hard times without wasting energy on self-doubt.
On the one hand, this may constitute elaborate self-delusion. On the other hand, maybe that’s okay. Steve Martin validated this approach in his book Born Standing Up: “Through the years, I have learned there is no harm in charging oneself up with delusions between moments of valid inspiration.” And even “valid inspiration” is in the eye of the beholder.
The truth is, there is no objective measure of who deserves success and who doesn’t. There is no tribunal who will rule in your favor when you finally earn the right to put yourself out there, either. There can be no certainty from any external source. Whatever validation you need, you have to find a way to give it to yourself. This belief in yourself allows you to stick with your craft over time, and sticking with your craft over time allows you to hang on to the belief. There’s no guarantee you’ll get a record deal or an athletic scholarship, but you will get better.
Unfortunately, I was not able to preserve the blissful lack of self-consciousness I had as a new musician. I wasted many, many hours wondering if I was good enough, wondering if I could ever be good enough, and so on. Even when I managed to get down to business to do the work, I would often interrupt myself with thoughts about whether I was working on the right thing. I’d frequently stall out, discouraged by my poor performance and frustrated by my slow progress. It was only in the moments when I was able to get out of my head that I was able to move forward.
Gradually, through lowering the stakes and paying attention to my thoughts, I was able to find more joy in the experience of playing music and suspend the need to judge my accomplishment or ability. I set aside the question of whether I was good enough; ironically, that’s how I was able to improve. And that has been a pattern that has held up with every new endeavor since.
I know that my level of success would never be enough for some people. There are those who might believe that I am unqualified for the work I do in the first place. But I am unwavering in my belief that I can make a positive contribution and in my commitment to doing so. And as the days go by, I learn and grow and gain experience that reinforces that belief and commitment.
Ultimately, I’m the one who gets to decide whether I’m good enough, and everything’s easier and more fun when I let myself believe that I am. If I’m not today, I will be someday—I just know it.