Last night my car was broken into. About $1500 worth of gear* was taken. Fortunately I was not inside, therefore I was not taken. My guitars, which I keep with me always, were not taken. My car was not taken. Therefore the tour will roll on.
When I woke up this morning something made me want to go check on the car. So I left my friend’s apartment and as I approached from the outside I noticed the contents had shifted. I was slow to realize what happened, as I didn’t notice any broken glass/point of entry. I actually thought maybe there was an earthquake or something. A CD case containing a couple hundred CDs was dumped on the driver’s seat. I was shocked at my carelessness for leaving it in view… but I knew I didn’t. Or did I? Was I sleepwalking? It’s amazing how long it took me to realize my car had been ransacked. Then I saw the rear cover dislodged, and dresses thrown over the back seat. And then… my backpack containing the files of everything I have composed since 2004… was gone.
I called the police as I rifled through what was left behind: books, dirty laundry, lots of rice. I also called my mother. As I took inventory of the unwanted, I became aware of my connection with the person who stole my belongings. It might sound strange, but I felt his energy wash over me, and I still do. I’m overwhelmed by the intimacy of our experience… our bond.
This person exhibited incredible respect for me through his handling of my possessions. Nothing was broken needlessly. It’s apparent that the act was not one of menace or meanness, but one of perceived need. What was not taken was sifted through, but unharmed. Only things of perceived resale value were taken. (I’ve listed the stolen items below, just in case you are in the neighborhood and happen to run into a couple of discarded bags in dumpsters, bushes, pawn shops, etc. I’m offering a reward for any of these items.)
* What I’d like to recover the most:
Navy blue backpack (North Face) containing external hard drive with six years of works-in-progress files (audio and text). This is the greatest loss, and of no value to anyone else, really. I will give a generous reward, no questions asked, for the recovery of this hard drive.
Black band bag (LeSport Sac) containing guitar pedals: one Big Muff, one Boss Chromatic Tuner, one Open Road Overdrive; Shure SM 58 mic, assorted cables, a couple dozen of my CDs, and smaller items (packs of guitar strings, etc.)
Garmin Nuvi GPS with charger.
Other puzzling stolen items: over forty assorted crystals and gemstones and an absurdly large Thesaurus. I don’t know how this person carried it up the hill along with all the other items. Plus, my expense reports/tour receipts from January through March and a wallet of emergency credit cards which have been cancelled.
My initial reaction – a feeling of monetary loss and personal violation – waned surprisingly quickly as my focus shifted from me to him. I’ve spent the majority of the afternoon reflecting on his motivation and his process, repeatedly visualizing how I imagine it was done. After getting off the phone with various credit card companies, police, pawn shops, and used guitar stores I decided to go looking for my stuff because, you know, I am very optimistic. And it was a beautiful spring day. A nice day for a walk.
So I walked through nearby parks, peaking into trashcans along the way. I felt myself slip deeper into this person, becoming him as I traced his hypothetical path… as a kind of meditation. And I found so much: clothing, furniture, food, books, personal items… I even found two ditched bags that fit the exact description of mine, though they were not.
There are so many people living on the street in San Francisco. And life gives us so much more that it takes. So much more that I don’t think I can even claim a loss.
As I headed back to my friend’s apartment, skin saturated with sunlight and gratitude in tact, Dylan’s lyric entered me, “She’s got everything she needs, she’s an artist, she don’t look back.”
Very true indeed. An artist is never poor. An artist is never without. And we are all artists. Our lives are our creations.
I am deeply grateful for the tools and the gifts I have been given.
So thank you, San Francisco, for the perspective. Tonight is my last show before heading South. Let’s make it our masterpiece.
No comments:
Post a Comment