The Perfect Table
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As I walked out of the coffee shop, I spotted the perfect table. It was half in the shade, half in the sun and the shade was provided by a lovely, leafy tree – not an umbrella. For some reason that made a difference. For some reason, it made the shade more real and seemingly cooler. I set my course and weaved my way through countless other tables filled with countless other patrons who shared my same idea – a moment of morning quiet before the rush of day began. It doesn’t happen often these days.
And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. She moved quicker than I and before I even had a chance to comprehend what was happening, she was sitting at my table, my table and was motioning to her friends to join her. She had swooped in and nicked my perfect spot. I quickly maneuvered my way past her and found a less-than-perfect spot to take my ten minutes. I didn’t fume, I didn’t make faces, share an unseemly gesture or even say a word. I just went about my own business and let it go. It was not worthy an extra thought or concern. And yet, here I am writing about it and thinking about it still…
A Perfect Table? A Crappy One? A Fake One?
After all, it was the perfect table. There are those who sit at the perfect table all their lives and don’t even know it or they do know it and don’t appreciate what they have. Then there are those who sit at a crappy table and make believe or try to convince themselves and others that their table is the best. Amy Winehouse had a pretty good seat. But she just couldn’t appreciate the view or feel the relief of her own natural shade – an incredible voice, unlike any other. For some reason, it just wasn’t satisfying, it wasn’t enough. It’s Back to Black. But, sadly, it’s not just Amy. It’s the Heath Leadgers and Cory Monteiths, the A-Rods and Livestrongs.
And then, sitting at a fancy, fake table sits a beauty who can only just pluck out a tune, barely eek out a song, auto-tuned for radio-play and embarrassing live. And we can’t ignore enough to make her go away, as money and commissioned awards pile up and the illusion lives on for a deceived public and in her own head. Real talent escapes. And a forced table in manufactured shade never stands empty. (We all know of someone like this..)
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Born or Bred?
The argument lives on between the naturally-gifted vs. the manufactured. Is the job easier if it comes naturally or does this mean less work equals less drive for ultimate success, like the kid who never has to study as opposed to the kid who studies her heart out, passionate to succeed and pleased as punch with a C+? You have come across these converse characters, perhaps you are one or the other.
Continue to seek the natural shade and stoke the fires of passion in work or in play, in life or in music. For evening, the dark, comes quickly, more quickly for some than others.
by Rayanne Thorn