Your Authority for Joy
My wife and I caught a Fall Out Boy concert recently. For the record, I’m not a “true fan.” My wife is, but I wasn’t there in the beginning, nor have I followed them from their origins in the Chicagoland area to the superstardom they enjoy today. I’m what you call a fan by way of marriage, and over time, a band I never really listened to has gradually wormed its way into my heart.
It helps that they put on a great show. Pyrotechnics, fireworks, a flame-thrower bass guitar - there’s a lot of fire in their showmanship. More than that, their lead singer, Patrick Stump, is quite talented. He’s composed scores for films, plays multiple instruments, and has an incredible voice.
But I’m not writing this to sell you on Fall Out Boy. No, something happened at the concert my wife and I attended that struck a chord with me. A day or two before the show, a mentor and a friend of the lead singer passed away suddenly. In dedication, the lead singer performed a touching tribute during the show. In his tribute, Stumph talked about his friend’s “great authority for joy” and how that was something this friend passed on to Stump when it came to entertaining. As performers, artists, and entertainers, we’re often sharing joy and fun, fueling others with our propensity to uplift.
It was an emotional moment, one that Stump struggled to maintain his composure through as he sang heartfelt tunes. That phrasing though, “authority for joy,” really stuck with me.
Many of us, whether we know it or not, command a great authority for joy. When we’re telling our stories, sharing our art, or just connecting with someone out in public, we have no idea how much of an effect we have on others. As creative people, we assume we know, often presuming the worst (no effect), but that can’t be true, can it?
When you really connect with something, let’s say a movie, is your first instinct to contact everyone involved in the production and tell them how moved you were? Probably not, and also, how could you? We have access to social media, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the intended recipient will see our messages.
The truth is, our reactions to most things are our own. We may share them with family and friends, but more often than not, we won’t have much opportunity to share them with the author of that reaction.
As creative people, when we do receive positive feedback, we should relish it, but we shouldn’t stress over the sound of crickets. It’s a big world, and somewhere out there, someone is enjoying our work. To that one person, we might be the next Fall Out Boy, Claude Monet, Gail Simone, or whomever.
But with that comes a responsibility. Our passion, creativity, and joy is inspiring those hidden fans. With every project, we should bring the same authority and dedication that pushed us to create in the first place. Because for that unknown someone out there, we’re their “authority for joy,” and we have no way of comprehending what kind of waves or echoes that might have. Our work could be the thing that keeps them going. Our reverence for art and beauty could be the reminder that helps them get through a bad day, week, etc.
And we don’t know which piece of us is having this effect. It could be tomorrow’s book or yesterday’s blog post.
When that fire to create burns low, remember this. The fact that you’re out there doing your thing, you inspire me. And I’m sure I’m not alone. Positive feedback doesn’t come in the form we’d like, but sometimes it comes in the form we need.
Keep on creating.