Sting is 71 years old, and the guy still rocks! I recently saw him rocking on stage with guitar in hand, jamming away. Whereas most guys his age can no longer hit the high notes (don’t bother with Daryl Hal), Sting seems to hit them all (even “Roxanne,” which I didn’t think he’d be able to do). Physically, forget about it; the dude has biceps most men half his age would love to have. Honestly, he’s a remarkable guy. And creatively, he’s still writing really good music (though I’m a Police fan, and to me, that’s where his music begins and ends).
But most of all, where Sting truly struck me was how he owned the stage and commanded the crowd’s attention. Everything in him has been so masterfully cultivated, harnessed, and aligned with his life’s purpose that you could feel – this is a guy who rocks. And as I was watching him, I just kept hearing the warning of Dr. Wayne Dyer: “Don’t die with your music still in you.” This man’s music is alive and well and will be with us long after he’s gone, which brings me to Sting’s son, Joe.
Joe Sumner, Sting’s son, opens his shows. Thousands of people gathered at the glorious Red Rocks Amphitheater, one of the pinnacles of any rocker’s career. Let’s say Joe’s music ain’t Red Rocks ready. Quite honestly, it sort of stings.
Look, he’s a lovely guy who seems sweet as can be. He probably should be on a stage, just not this one. Whereas Sting exudes cool and conveys charisma and charm, Joe jumps around in a silly t-shirt, shorts, mediocre voice, and goofball vibe.
However, there was one brief moment when it felt like he found his voice, and I could feel his music. It was when he sang a silly and sweet lullaby he had written for his daughter. I envisioned this man being really good in a classroom full of kids. I could see him with his guitar and playful, uncool warmth firing up a room full of kindergarten students. That’s the stage it felt like he belonged on, which would be pretty fitting since Sting left being a teacher to rock. I see this. My wife saw this. I sensed thousands of others saw this. Does Joe see this?
I wonder if Joe ever allowed himself to ask what he wanted to do.
I wonder if maybe he was pushed into the “family business?”
I wonder if he just wanted to make his dad proud, so he picked up the guitar to earn his dad’s approval?
I wonder if maybe his journey could be from rocker to teacher, a counter-balance to his father’s journey.
Most of all, I wonder if he knows that the more he sang that night, the more it felt like his music was still stuck inside of him.
I’m not picking on Joe. I feel for Joe. I hope for his sake I’m wrong. However, I’ve been doing this for long enough to know men hiding their music. After all, every day in my practice as a Logotherapist and Meaning Coach, I coach guys like Joe, who have been jumping around the stage for years. However, unlike Joe, these guys come to me when they can’t jump anymore or continue singing someone else’s (particularly their father’s) song.
The dentist I coach hates looking in people’s mouths all day. His dad was a dentist, so he became one. However, he wants to open a hobby shop, as his real passion is vintage toy trains.
The businessman who talks to me about his dream to paint….
The therapist who always wanted to be an entrepreneur….
The guy who retired and hates spending his days playing golf when he longs to volunteer at a NICU and be a “cuddler,” holding babies born to drug-addicted mothers…
The list of Joes goes on and on, and my advice to them is all the same. I don’t tell them what to do. I don’t choose for them where to go. I support them with one message said and embodied in 100 different ways.
Whatever you choose to do, do not die with your music still inside you!
That is a reminder not only for Joe but all of us average Joes – do not die with your music still inside you!
