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It's pouring outside...last night I attended a concert by guitarist Eric Johnson, who was playing solo acoustic in a small auditorium. When I got home I found another rejection for "In Another Life," this time by a well-established metaphysical bookstore. The rejection form was filled out using the subtitle, "Reincarnation in America" instead of the main title, and no reason for the rejection was given...

Let me tell you about this concert. Eric is clearly a guitar virtuoso, as evidenced not only by his playing (which I'm not qualified to judge) and his reputation, but also the spontaneous outbursts of awe from guitarists seated behind me... I've heard him called one of the ten best guitarists in the world, and yet he's not well-known. He only fills a small auditorium--lucky for me, I suppose.

Why? He's manifesting a high spiritual vibe. When he's playing electric, I'd have to use words like majestic, soaring, intensely devotional. When he's playing acoustic, including his more recent work, I would be hard-pressed to describe in words what he's expressing on that inner level. I will say that it reminded me of listening to Jim Meyer with a small group in the little library at the Meher Spiritual Center, with Kitty Davy (direct disciple of Meher Baba) in attendance. But I can't describe that either. I think spirituality is like a fruit with a juicy inner core and a hard rind on the outside. Ninety-five percent of what we imagine to be "spiritual" in this society--the gloss of the popular new-age movement, as well as the external show of traditional religion--belongs to the rind. Genuine spirituality, like a shy guest, runs quickly from hype and organizations and philosophies and structures. It shows up where you aren't expecting it, and its true friends recognize it.

It is also recognized, in a perverse sense, by those who instinctively avoid it. They may not know why--they probably put a negative label on it like "boring", but if pressed, the reasons given would be a laundry-list. Genuine spirituality is uncomfortable to them--it would take them into their own hearts, and their hearts are full of things they would rather not see face-to-face. In any case, they don't resonate with it.

At risk of being grandiose, I'm pretty sure this is what's happening when "In Another Life" is summarily rejected without any good reason being given. The PBS corporate headquarters, for example, sent me back a rejection form which hadn't even printed out completely--whoever created it hadn't bothered to check. The terse reasons cited didn't make sense, and of course I never got a clarification. Same with this most recent rejection--whoever filled out the rejection form couldn't even be bothered to get the title right.

I don't think this is an accident. I think when this happens, the show has disturbed somebody to the point that they express their feelings by botching up even a simple rejection form.

"In Another Life" is carefully-crafted, and I've put my expertise in several areas into it, particularly photography, video editing, interviewing (from my counseling training) and writing. Because very little money was ever donated for the project, however, I had to wear all the hats and do everything inexpensively. That included using donated illustrations in place of re-enactments, mini-dv cameras, and animations created by myself with an inexpensive program. The host (in Version 2) was a volunteer former radio personality. I also designed and print the cover jackets out one at a time from my computer. Since I only charge $25/copy and don't sell in bulk, I can't afford to print a jacket which has huge areas of color--I'd be running to the store for a $40 ink cartridge every few copies. I also can't afford to hire a graphic designer. So perhaps the larger bookstores see this hint of the amateur about the video, and dismiss it without further thought.

But someone like Eric Johnson proves to me that's not the real issue. Eric has brought his musicianship to the highest level, so much so that his concerts are populated by guitarists hanging on his every note and, as I said, literally gasping while he's playing. And yet he has little popular recognition. In my opinion, it's because the spirituality he's manifesting pushes away people who can't vibe with it.

Perhaps the miracle is that in an age when huge masses of people are drawn like magnets to this or that low-minded trend, Eric Johnson can sit down on a stage with his acoustic guitar and be appreciated and understood by an audience of several hundred.

Incidentally, Eric made a reference to the origin of at least one song which it seems may have been inspired by a past-life memory glimpse. I use a reference to reincarnation from one of his early tunes to open this page. But what's really fascinating to me is I saw him in concert playing electric, and it seems to me it was only a year or so ago. He played a little keyboard then--I got the impression he was competent. But last night he played several songs on a grand piano, and there was no question that he had full mastery over the instrument as he does with the guitar. Am I missing something--has he really played piano that well for years privately? Or did he achieve that in a year? Either way, it's clear to me this isn't the first time he's done this. That level of mastery is the end-result of lifetimes of study and practice.

Music opening this page: "High Landrons," Eric Johnson (Ah Via Musicom album)
All I can say is, if you have a chance to see Eric in concert, don't pass it up...
(look for video on above page of "When The Sun Meets the Sky")