It's interesting how our priorities, perspectives, values change with experience living this life.
Take for example musicians, who are notorious for being rather obsessed with their music. They wake up thinking about it, they plan their days around it, even pass up lucrative "real jobs" to focus on their music.
Now let's say a few of them get together to form a band. And let's say
they're really good, both individually and as a group. So good they book some gigs near the area where they live.
Because they're a good band, their gigs go really well. They're well-received by their audiences, and word begins to get out that a decent band is new in town. The band continues to get some more shows, but then they hit a wall with their momentum.
In spite of their success, their existence as a group seems to be limited to scheduling a
gig, then setting up, playing, tearing down and going home.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
Why are they not gaining the kind of traction some of the more popular bands have been able to get?
Because they've made it all about the music. Music is their sole focus: practicing, rehearsing together, playing together, learning new charts.
The focal point of their performances is to show the crowd what a great band they
are.
But the crowds just aren't impressed, no matter how good they might play together and sound.
One of the band members, probably the one who spearheaded the whole operation from day one, is out for a walk one day and it occurs to him there's a noticeable difference between the okay gigs (the ones where they show up, play well, get some applause and then everyone goes home) and the great gigs (the gigs where the audience is eating out of the
palm of their hand, even noticeable mistakes are ignored or not even noticed).
Remember that "aha" moment in The Founder when Ray Kroc realizes he's not in the hamburger business, but the real estate business? That's kind of what's happening here.
Suddenly the focus is not exclusively on the music, but connections.
Connections with...people who can promote them?
Connections with the
right manager who will steer them to glory?
No way.
Connections with the people who come out to see them play.
This band leader realizes they're not in the music business, but the connections business.
Suddenly, rather than devote 100% of their energy into rehearsing, booking "one and done" type gigs, poorly designing "merch" on zazzle.com that no one will buy, now they want to
connect.
They quickly open a Twitter account, a Facebook fan page, an Instagram account if they don't already have these and begin posting a few things.
Maybe a podcast is in the works in the near future.
Whatever the case may be, the leader has had a paradigm shift in how the band's energy should be diverted. The next rehearsal is full of nervous energy and optimism as the leader shares his or her vision for how they should
proceed.
The bass player hates people and social media and is overall turned off by what the leader is sharing, so he walks out the door on the spot. The rest of the group is skeptical, but like the leader are frustrated with the stalled momentum they've endured for several months. They agree to move forward with what they would later label "cautious optimism."
What is happening here?
The band's collective Ikigai has come into
focus.
The truth is this band was on the brink of breaking up. It could have been a few weeks; maybe a few months. Had the leader not had this epiphany, and had the members not been in agreement in changing their mindset regarding marketing, it would have been one of those "fun while it lasted" types of experiences.
Now the band has a purpose, a mission, a reason to get together that transcends impressing people with some hot licks on the guitar or
vocals.
Oh, and it turns out that the guy who did a plumbing job for the lead vocalist is a damn fine bass player and has the right attitude to go along with the band's rejuvenated mission.
People more or less tolerated the other guy.
That's what you do when you don't have Ikigai with your work.