Two weeks ago, I had an experience that changed my world – or more importantly, the way I see my world.  Let me explain:  For years I’ve felt like a part of my soul was closed off, like I couldn’t fully appreciate and be thankful for the inevitable miracles that occur in every single day of living.  Friends, family, the gift of creating and sharing music,  the overwhelming beauty of the world that surrounds us, the kindness and compassion of which all people are capable – I’ve often taken it for granted, or just plain failed to see it.  The nagging feeling that I’ve been missing something so fundamental just wouldn’t let me be.  I thought about seeing a shrink, but decided that expensive office visits and happy pills weren’t a path to a spiritual/emotional awakening.  I thought about going back to church, but I’m not a big fan of organized religion.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely down with the man (woman/gender neutral spirit being) upstairs.  I just don’t always see eye to eye with his/her/it’s self-proclaimed temporal representatives. 

Over coffee, I floated  a trial balloon past Peggy, “Maybe we oughtta go to church.”  She said, “Forget it. You don’t like church and the minister doesn’t like your snoring.  By the way, Max got us tickets to see BB King, with Buddy Guy  at The Ryman Auditorium on Thursday.”  I said, “The Ryman IS a church! Let’s go.”    The Ryman was originally built as a church, I believe one of the first ever in Nashville.

Neither of us had ever seen BB, but  we’d been talking about it for a long time. Thursday came and we were totally psyched for the show.   Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Buddy Guy opened the show – at 73 he was the youngster on the double bill.  As a guitarist, Buddy was Jimi Hendrix’  and Eric Clapton’s main influence.  He prowled the stage with the intensity and vitality of a 25 year old, and pretty much showed today’s  blues cats like Jonny Lang and John Mayer what it’s really all about.

Then it happened.  BB King took the stage.  He could hardly walk – The members of his band had to help him to center stage, where he sat down in front of a microphone.  In his arms, he cradled “Lucille”, his legendary Gibson 335 guitar.  He  started playing.  And my heart opened. In every note he played, I could hear the arthritis in his hands and the beauty in his soul.  I could feel the joy, the pain, the wisdom, the love, the sorrows, the experience, the gratitude,  the humility of this 84 year old descendant of slaves, who grew up on a cotton farm and left home as a teenager to become one of the greatest performers of American popular music.  His body may be weakened by time, but his voice can still knock over a bull elephant – He laughed, pleaded, joked, teased, roared and hollered the blues for almost 3 hours, interspersing the music with stories about his band, his life, and the origins of the music he loves.  Repeatedly throughout the night, he put his hand on his heart while he sang as if he was connecting the hearts of every person in the audience with his own heart and hands . The love he feels for his band, his audience, and all the people who surround him is physically tangible.    Somewhere in the middle of it all, I began laughing and crying uncontrollably.   I realized that I HAD come to CHURCH, and been saved by the power of BB King’s Blues.  At the end of the show, he thanked the crowd one last time, and said “I’m an old man – I might not be around much longer.  If fate gives me another year, would you have me back, Nashville?"   Everyone in attendance stood and cheered.