And improve color vision and contrast sensitivity –
All from the inside out!
They’ve even been called “internal sunglasses” because they help shield our eyes from sunlight and screen damage from cell phones, computers, tablets, TVs – you name it.
One of the most valuable life lessons I’ve learned so far is this…
Your ability to succeed in anything—whether it’s passing a test, learning an instrument, dropping a few extra pounds, or healing yourself, is only as strong as your ability to accept failure and to keep on failing, until one day… you simply don’t.
The story that follows is about a time I failed and embarrassed myself in front of thousands of people, including one of the greatest guitar players in the world… and not just once, but many times.
If I could survive that and go on to sell 4 million records, trust me, you can meet whatever goal you’ve set for your body and mind.
In fact, you’ve already taken a step towards getting there by subscribing to this Sound Health newsletter.
But it may not always be that easy.
I’ll share some techniques or exercises that can seem a bit unusual, or you may feel awkward doing. I want to encourage you to keep trying.
I can tell you from personal experience, the very best rewards come to those who stick with it.
Let me tell you what I mean…
Expect the unexpected
In 1997, I had the honor of playing onstage with one of my longtime heroes, Carlos Santana.
Before playing our first show together, he asks if my band, Rusted Root, would like to join him onstage to play a cover of Bob Marley’s “Exodus.”
Of course, we said yes.
As a drummer, I had no worry whatsoever… I assumed I’d just be playing some simple percussion instrument, like a maraca.
Pretty easy, right?
Boy, was I wrong…
When Carlos calls us onstage, I proudly walk toward the rhythm section… ready to rock the heck out of my yellow maraca.
As I do, I hear a voice...
“Jim! No, no, no… Come up here and play the drum kit, man.”
Horacio Hernandez, Santana’s drummer (and another one of my idols) is beckoning me over. My stomach drops. Before I can eek out any words, he jumps off the drum riser and disappears backstage.
I now have to play the drums…FOR SANTANA.
I start to feel beads of sweat collect on my forehead as I sit down at Horacio’s giant drum set.
I’m part of Santana’s percussive locomotive. And that locomotive needs power.
If I miss a beat, I can throw this entire train off track. But there’s no turning back now…
We start the song…
The crowd, immediately recognizing the Bob Marley classic, lets out an ecstatic roar.
A minute or two into the song, Carlos points at me and says “YOU!”
Now, for all those non-musicians out there, when the leader of a band points at you in the middle of a song, it means that it’s YOUR turn to take a solo.
What I really want to say is, “Oh, no thanks. That’s okay…”
But Carlos is not asking... He is telling.
And now, I also realize that my face—frozen like a deer in headlines—is on the jumbotron screen, on display for everyone to see.
Under pressure
I start my solo by timidly rolling on the tom-tom drums, but this is a Santana show for Pete’s sake! I know I have to do something impressive.
So I begin rolling over every drum on the set like Animal from The Muppet Show.
But in my adrenaline-fueled quest to impress Santana, I’ve completely lost track of the beat…which is pretty important for a drummer.
I’m starting to have a bonafide panic attack, right there on stage.
I shut my eyes. Bad decision.
All of a sudden everyone stops playing... except for me.
With my eyes closed, I’ve completely missed Carlos’ cue to end “Exodus.”
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, my performance could be filed away as a complete and utter “trainwreck.”
And yet, the next day I’m dumbfounded when Carlos comes up to me and says “So, we’re going to try that again tonight, right?”
Every part of my body is screaming, “NO! Tell him no!”
But again, in Carlos Santana fashion, he’s not asking. He’s telling.
I hear myself say, “Yes, absolutely. I’ll be there. Thank you so, so much.”
Failing upward
You might expect that this is the part of the story where I got out on stage with a newfound sense of confidence, play an amazing solo, and completely redeem myself.
Well… it’s not.
Remember that movie Groundhog Day where Bill Murray wakes up each day, forced to relive the same series of disasters over and over again?
Every night for the next two weeks I play “Exodus,” and Carlos points at me to take a solo.
And although my performances eventually graduate from absolute “trainwreck” status, they’re definitely not going to secure me a spot in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame.
Yet every night, Carlos invites me to try again.
And then, on one of the last nights of the tour, it finally happened… I begin my solo and find I’m effortlessly playing rhythmic combinations I never believed possible.
I’m aware and present.
Never before have I experienced feeling my body working so hard while simultaneously being so calm.
Rather than tightly closing my eyes praying for the moment to end, I’m focused. I know exactly when it’s time to end the solo.
When the song is over, Carlos pulls me aside and congratulates me. “Yeah, Jim! Yeah! You got it... you got it!”
What’s waiting for you on the other side of the door?
In a big way, I finally saw the product of positive thinking.
I finally saw what it was like to take a big chance.
And the real kicker is, I couldn’t have discovered any of this without failing first.
Despite all my previous disaster with the drum solo, Santana kept the door open for me.
He wanted me to stick with it long enough to cross the threshold, and earn the reward waiting for me on the other side. It was more important to Carlos to teach me this lesson than it was for him to have a perfect show.
I’m opening the door to every person who wants to feel better, and live a healthier, longer, and more enriching life. All I ask in return is that you keep trying.
And I’ll be here for you the whole way, just like Carlos was for me.
