Consider the strange paradox of fame. At first, you chase it. You want to be seen, recognized, admired, and remembered. You work for applause, an audience, and attention. And maybe, just maybe, one day you get exactly what you wanted. Then something curious happens. The thing you spent years chasing begins to chase you. The paparazzi follow you. Fans surround you. Strangers recognize you. Groupies want access to you. Your face appears in places you never put it. People discuss your life as if they somehow know you. It is almost like a karmic boomerang : you throw the desire for recognition into the world, and eventually recognition comes flying back toward you—sometimes with far greater force than you anticipated. Because think about it: Fame cannot exist by itself. How could you know you were famous if no one recognized you? Fame depends on witnesses. It requires people to point at you, photograph you, follow you, talk about you, and want something from you. The crowd is not an u...
I watched a young woman sing, a nd boy, can she sing. There was something in her voice that technique alone could not explain—a depth, a passion, a haunting reflection in her tone that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the personality . . . as though something greater than herself had found a voice through which to sing. Perhaps she knows she is good. Perhaps applause has told her. Perhaps audiences have told her. Perhaps somewhere within her, the ego quietly knows: I have something special. But another question arose in me: Does she know why? Does she know where that voice comes from? Does she understand the mysterious convergence of body, breath, sensitivity, experience, consciousness, and something altogether unexplainable that allows one human being to open her mouth and move another human being to tears? Or is she simply living inside the gift without yet recognizing its miracle? And suddenly I thought of Eden. Adam and Eve lived in paradise. But perhaps there is a differe...