Yes, I am an amateur

In high school and college, I was part of the swing-dancing fad. We used to go, wear khaki trousers and pay our cover fees and swing the cute girls from youth group all over the dance floor. But we remained amateurs. There was, however, a class of the professionals. I don't think these people had any sort of social life outside of swing dancing. They wore zoot suits, until zoot suits became too cool. Then they wore trendy, butt-enhancing jeans with tight t-shirts and Puma sneakers. Whatever they wore, their styles, combined with their excellent grasp of the "lindy-hop", communicated to all of us that they were the kings of the dance floor. I knew I could never live up to their standards, not without sacrificing any other extra-curricular activity that gave meaning to my soul. (that did not keep me from being jealous, as you probably already have guessed) Nevertheless, I still had fun as an amateur. Dancing remained beautiful, a way to connect and find your self in a rhythmic structure of artistic expression.

The other day I was described as a competent generalist, well read in all I do, but never an expert in any one thing. But the writers at Soul Shelter gave this comforting article on amateurism. I have been to jam sessions where I could play some rhythms on my guitar to keep from sounding cacophonous, but could never be on the in crowd. Yet, I love Soul Shelter's description of this folk festival. Yes, there were probably some amazing musicians. But there was a spirit that managed to celebrate everyone without excluding anyone. It appears loving and giving, where everyone, for the love of the music (or the dance, or the words, or whatever art form you choose), can still celebrate greatness, and have a part to play. It's comforting for an amateur who is well aware that his blog contributes nothing of professional value. But in my blog I can appreciate good writing, attempt to be a good writer, and celebrate, all for the love of the word itself.

Yes, I know. I'll keep practicing.