Once upon a time, not so very long ago, music was stored in very long spiral grooves pressed into the surface of vinyl disks. Microscopic grooves. Deep enough so a diamond-tipped needle would, under little pressure, sit in the groove and follow its every contour. Using cunning electro-mechanical wizardry this became sound. Often really beautiful sound. That is why I have a turntable and a vinyl collection…

The groove never changed. It always remained the same. Over time – tiny amounts of wear depending on how violently the needle was pressed in. There would be cracks and pops, and dust that added to the character on each playing – no two exactly alike – however the major theme completely recognizable time after time. For now – lets ignore the tragedy of scratches… (and the autobiography of them…)

I want to talk about one of my old grooves. Not a favourite one. For a long time I have tried to become deaf to it or mute it out when it plays. Recently I have grown to listen more deeply to its cadence and rhythm. Perhaps the tune is not so bad after all. Maybe it has a certain something. It holds a certain part of me.

It certainly has depth. It rings through my torso like a bell. It peels apart like layers of an onion when I lean in closely. There are a bunch of familiar thoughts and an overriding pattern that comes along with it.

Vulnerability time.

The underlying theme is ‘abandonment’; ‘not worth time’, ‘not worth energy’. There is despair and heartbreak in there. This is really old stuff; laid down in the distant past of my early life where I was trying to make sense of an experience that jarred me to my core. I made a groove. I ran in it. It kinda worked. It got deeper. Before I knew it, it was a part of who I was as familiar as my fingers and toes.

When I stumble into this groove – and that can be really subtle – the behaviour that follows tends towards ‘placating’. This place is painful, and placating is a strategy to try to make it work and get what I can have, not what I want. Anything to keep from rocking the boat and maintaining approval. An early life strategy that worked well. A groove well-worn.

The only trouble is it does not work. It is serious BS.

There is this slight problem of who I am at my core; my bedrock and expanding that into in the world. That larget ‘I’ runs counter to this groove; because I sure as hell am not going to be pleasing everybody all of (any of?) the time. I have far to much shit I want to stir up, create, achieve and share. The conversations I thrive in are where no cherished dogma gets out alive. I rock boats. Deliberately. Mine too. Sometimes I am out on the boat when it flips. Then, I can get triggered and end up winding down the same old groove until I find an off-ramp.

The walls of the groove are as insubstantial as ghosts. They just look solid.

The groove has a gravitational pull of its own. Sometimes I do not see that being dragged in is a choice.

Fighting it does not work. It just makes it bigger and deeper. Shouting at it does not work (believe me, I have tried…)

There is a way out. So damn obvious and that I will resist to my core (more of the groove) until I see, again, it is the way out.

Forgiveness.

Acceptance.

Love.

It was not my fault I created some beliefs and ways of being in my early life that allowed me to survive that now get in my way. That young part of me holding these beliefs is doing its damndest to try to keep me safe.

“Thanks. I hear you and what you are saying. And – I am the adult. I have got this.”

Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes it might take a day or two. Being well rested, eating well and having down time all support me in moving through and beyond the groove. And it is all practice.

In carving a new one.

Encoding my own awesome new music.