About The Bus

“And I suddenly got this flash that I’d experienced before so many times whenever I’d seen him play, which was that he was like a channel. One of the purest channels I’ve ever seen, where everything he sang and played flowed straight down from heaven… And I had to leave just to preserve some kind of sanity or confidence in myself.” — Eric Clapton

Clapton’s framing of the gift’s nature is strikingly insightful — “like a channel… where everything he played flowed straight down from heaven.” The fullest expression and purpose of a gifted human are not their final products but their ability to serve as conduits. Whereas we ‘appreciate’ art, we are ‘moved’ by artists. The euphoria we experience when we are moved by any human craft is the recognition that its maker has transcended their human station to attain a higher one, becoming an ‘open channel’ between human and divine. When we behold The David, a Caravaggio, or our favorite version of Althea, we are transfixed by the material, but transformed by the artist’s ascendance to the highest order of human capacity — we are witnessing evidence of the inhuman. The most enthralling aspect of a live musical performance is not the music itself, which is often beautifully imperfect and obscured by the noise of the crowd, but the moments during which the artist is completely subsumed by The Spirit. 

Clapton reveals more by calling Vaughan “One of the purest channels I’ve ever seen.” The history of human achievement teaches us that the greatest purifier of the human channel is pain. Stevie Ray, like countless artists before him, gave his entire being to his work, lived the pain of family system dysfunction, divorce, addiction, and isolation until achieving recovery shortly before his premature death. Purifying the channel often requires prioritizing the fraught and unknowable artistic journey over the expectations of family, society, and self. What Clapton saw in Vaughan — and feared — was a person more willing to surrender themselves fully to the Will of God. So cowed was Clapton that he admits, “I had to leave just to preserve some kind of sanity or confidence in myself.” This exceedingly human admission illustrates the lesson that the fear of not living up to one’s potential overcomes one’s perception of their accomplishments and is insurmountable. The true burden of the gift is not the fear of failing to utilize one’s talents, but failing God. It is SRV’s absolute surrender to his art and his willingness to endure profound pain to live his music completely that Clapton recognizes as the pathway to purifying the channel. Slowhand admits that he was overcome by an existential threat to his sense of self when confronted by an individual whom he believed had given more and come closer to honoring the gift. It is SRV’s ability to fully and completely embrace his gift that allows Clapton and all people to be moved by it — not the notes, nor the voice, but his willingness to sacrifice himself to become a spiritual conduit for others.

The weight of the gift is the knowledge that every waking moment not spent striving to perfect and share it is time spent squandering our responsibility to God and man. The inability to share one’s talent denies the world a channel of transcendence — a pathway to the divine.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” — James 1:2–3

The weight of the gift is an allegory applicable to all of life’s challenges and our fundamental human choice — whether to risk the pains of originality and defiance to follow the Spirit or to conform to the Will of Man. Our primary challenge is deciding whether to live authentically according to the heart or inauthentically as prescribed by others. While walking the path of an authentic life may be arduous, reaching the destination of an artificial one is terrifying. The recognition of the need to lead an authentic existence and experience spiritual union is the Common Pursuit of all human beings and healing disciplines, whether the modality is psychotherapy or music. 

The Balm…

Fellowship is the balm that eases the weight of the gift. Finding and relating with fellow travelers who share one’s gift and know the burden of its yoke produces clarity, recognition, and fulfillment. Fellow artists are uniquely qualified to provide advice, critique, support, recognition, and solace. They are a source of truth, often helping us understand our true value and that the act of striving toward our best is a worthy endeavor. Fellowship serves another purpose — attracting those moved by our gifts. Oftentimes, only a similarly gifted person can recognize the nuances in the gifts of another and be moved by it.

The Temple…
In the early 2000s, Struggle Bus Project founder David Vieau made a discovery that would transform his life and the lives of thousands of other young people and families. After enduring decades of profound dis-ease, dysphoria, addiction, and trauma, Vieau found solace and a way forward in informal drum circles and impromptu jam sessions. Through music, Vieau found a refuge from the incessant need to use substances to soothe the pain of a life in ruins. Music was a safe salve for a tired soul, providing the purchase with which to build life anew. After achieving a hard-fought recovery, Vieau created a space where other young adults experiencing the anguish of mental illness, substance abuse, isolation, neglect, and aimlessness could come to heal, belong, and begin again.