Omaha (part 2)

       My buddy Kevin is the Ipso Facto Mayor of Omaha. At least that’s what I call him. He’s owned several businesses in the city, including what used to be the best rock club in town, “Sharky’s”. He was also the PR Director for the baddest local rock radio station; written a book, Conversations With Hunter S. Thompson (Hunter was also his friend); and published his own comedy newspaper, The Great Red Shark, a rag that me and my friend Cusa used to write for. Given his pedigree, it came as absolutely no surprise to me when the two of us wandered into an Omaha bar called Parliament, and Kevin knew the band. Professionally and personally.
       Kevin introduced me to the Spurgeon brothers, who lead one of the hottest cover bands in the midwest, The Confidentials. Highly sought after on the corporate event, wedding, and club circuit, The Confidentials are a slick and powerful ten-piece outfit that play classic funk, disco, Motown, and contemporary R&B hits. I was immediately impressed by them.
       When I met the brothers, we hit it off right away. Steve, who also plays rhythm guitar as well as co-fronting the band with his brother, was even wearing the same belt as I was. No small coincidence. Because this was not your generic run of the mill belt (none of mine are), where your odds of actually bumping into somebody wearing one just like yours are fair. No. This is a rather ostentatious rock n’ roll type of belt, studded with large silver pyramids. You don’t see many dudes wearing one. But Steve was. Just one of many things that jelled that night.
       After a few drinks and some music talk, Steve said “I dig you, Clint! I want you to sit in and play drums with us!”.  I was completely, but very pleasantly, surprised. Being asked to do this, under these circumstances, is rare. At least on the east coast. This dude literally just met me, has never heard me play a note, and he’s asking me to drum for his very tight, very hot band. I’m sure some of it had to do with our mutual friend; Kevin gave me instant credibility. And, some of it had to do with, well, I’ll get to that in a moment. Truly flattered and honored, I thrillingly accepted the chance to jam with these masterful musicians.
       One of the bed rocks of this blog, which reflects one of my core philosophies, is that you show up for life as vibrantly, as expressively, and as authentically as possible. Show more. Hide less. Be you, and be you big. We are all unique, so living like that looks very differently for each of us. But, no matter who you are, when you do that, you will make more of an impact on people, and those who connect to you will connect to you in a powerful way.
       And, you may turn some people off. Because showing up like that isn’t playing it safe. It’s not trying to be liked. It’s turning yourself up, not down. It’s wanting to really touch and connect to those who hear you, see you, and get you. And those who don’t, or won’t, or can’t (and the dynamics of each of those is different, and I’ll write about them some other time) well, thanks anyway. But I’m going to spend my time and energy resonating with those who hear my song, instead of constantly trying to rewrite my music so that more people dig it. I’m not interested in being more popular. I’m interested in being more fully and more vibrantly me.
       When we show up like that, our life happens in a bigger way. In a better way, in a more fulfilling way; with more fun, more passion, more excitement, more meaning, and more emotional richness. From the board room to the bar room, from between the sheets to between the grocery isles, it all gets more colorful. Life gets simultaneously broader, deeper, and richer. It becomes at once more playful and more intense. It expands on the X axis, the Y axis, and the Z axis. Like getting more horsepower, better gas milage, and cleaner emissions, all from the same gas.
       I’m far from perfect at it, but I try and live this way. On this particular night, by showing up loud and clear, I connected with a stranger. I earned the opportunity to play with a totally killer band. I created the chance for something great to happen. And it did.
       Please stay with me for part three.


©2014 Clint Piatelli. MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.              

Omaha (part 1)

       If Omaha, Nebraska wasn’t in Omaha, Nebraska, it would have a better reputation. Meaning, because it’s in the middle of the country, it gets a “country bumpkin” rap by those who live on the coastal United States. Which is to say, population wise, most of America. Talk Omaha to anybody living on the coast who hasn’t been there, and they most likely conjure up visions of a podunk, quasi-city with not a whole lot going on.
       The reality, however, is that Omaha is a vibrant little city. It’s got a hip area called the Old Market District, which is teaming with very cool shops, restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. The turn of the century brick architecture, well thought out and attractive storefronts, and wide, cobblestone streets give the Old Market District plenty of character. The University of Nebraska/Omaha, with it’s spacious, sightly campus, means a constant influx of youthful energy and fresh ideas.
       Granted, Omaha is nothing like New York or San Francisco or Boston. But it does have a very appealing vibe all it’s own, and for me, that’s what defines a city. Part of that vibe is a thriving music scene. Recently, I not only witnessed that scene, but serendipitously participated in it.
       I rolled into Omaha via Des Moines, Iowa, on Friday, January 10, on my way from Boston to Colorado. Spending the winter writing my book, skiing, and gleefully galavanting all over the western United States, I expected my drive out here to be rather uneventful. I had five days to drive 2100 miles, and I was on the clock, because I had reservations in Colorado that began on Sunday, January 12. My plan was to get up early every morning, work out, and drive. That’s it. I wasn’t sure I would have time to do anything else.
       Before I left, though, it was clear to me that there was something else I wanted this trip to be about. I thought it could be a perfect opportunity to live the principles I write about in MuscleHeart, and then share my experiences that resulted from living those principles. After all, the book I’m penning on this trip is based on the concepts and approaches I’ve been writing about in my blog for the last five years. I knew there existed a synergy between my book and this trip.
       I’m traveling alone for over two months. It could get lonely. In fact, that’s a running fear that started even before I took off. If I don’t put myself out there, take risks, live as vibrantly and expressively as possible, organically seek connections, basically practice what I preach in this very blog, then I could end up singing the lonely boy blues. And, skiing and writing aside, I wouldn’t have much adventure on this adventure. Traveling alone effectively provides a sort of moving laboratory for what I’m writing about.
       I figured that experimental process would begin once I got to where I was going. It didn’t occur to me that it would actually begin the moment I got into my car and headed west. Because I didn’t envision anything at all happening on my five day drive.
       They say that life is what happens to you while your making other plans. I wasn’t so much making other plans as I was anticipating them. And, like it always does, life happened. In Omaha.
       Come back for part two.    

©2014 Clint Piatelli, Muscleheart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.