No One Is Going To Die Today

I’m not sleeping well these days. Unable to practice what I sing.

That God is present now.

That I am blessed, loved – that this moment, this day and all that comprises it is a gift.

That my God is doing His will on earth – in and through me – as it is in heaven.

I stare awake at the ceiling worried. Comparing. Doubting.

Worried that I’ve spent thousands of dollars making a record that isn’t perfect.

Comparing not-yet-fully-formed songs to all those I’ve recorded before, to what I hear on the radio, to the best of my iPod.

Doubting this drum sound, that guitar passage, the timbre of my voice there, and on and on and on.

Restless perfectionism.

I stand in the shower this morning praying it out of me, off of me, imagining the anxiety and fear dissolving, sliding down and slipping through the drain. And I pray God, in these last two days before going to mix, will make these songs what they must be to accomplish what He must accomplish.

I don’t know what that is. So I start to guess. I start to dream. What they could be. What God could do. And I feel all of a sudden that I’m running ahead. I step out of the shower, look myself in the mirror and use my dad voice. “Stop it. It’s only music. No one’s going to die today.”

It’s only music.

Mitch Dane

It’s only music.

So I’m sitting on the couch behind Mitch The Producer again today. Andrew Osenga is in the next room crooning harmonies. Lights on the console are dancing red and green. Incense is wafting sandalwood from the bathroom across the hall. A pink lava lamp is bubbling. Music is spilling from the speakers. And no one is dying.

No one is going to die today.