I used to expend a lot of energy making sure I did everything the same way as everyone else. I might be blind, but I wasn’t going to be seen doing day-to-day activities in a strange way or get caught relying on special treatment. I would refuse a guiding elbow or a shoulder from a friend, just so I could be seen traveling 100% independently—even if that made holding a conversation in a social situation harder. How about a free pass to skip to the front of the line at the venue, airport, or stadium? No thank you!

While I certainly gained skills from insisting on total independence—and maybe even changed a few minds’ perceptions of disability—I’ve since realized that there just isn’t enough time for all that. Don’t get me wrong—I remain a believer in fierce independence—but sometimes you’ve got to bend the rules for your own well-being… Or except the help from someone who really cares about you. I think this applies equally to blind people and musicians.

Blind people excel at finding creative work-arounds to everyday problems and we are inadvertently shamed for it almost every time. If the store I’m going to is the second to last on the left side of the block, what’s going to be easier: walking on the left side of the sidewalk counting each store until I get there; or confidently walking to the end of the block, turning around, and walking two stores down on the right? The second one, duh! But sighted passersby almost inevitably see me do a quick 180 and assume I’m totally lost / confused, giving them an excellent opportunity to grab my elbow and ask me where I’m trying to go.

Maybe it’s been raining a lot. I’m crossing the street and know there are giant puddles collected at the curbs. What’s the better move: cross the street on a perfectly straight path and try to estimate how long of a step I need to take to clear the puddle at the other side (without slowing down as people walk behind me); or cross at a slight angle, allowing me to sidestep the puddle by walking up on the steeper part of the curb? I don’t want wet shoes, so I know what I’m choosing, but somebody’s bound to freak out and pull me out of the way of traffic I wasn’t walking all the way towards.

These strangers are frustrating, but they are different from friends who ‘get it’ and just want to make the complicated logistics of everyday life a little easier. I welcome the chance to be guided by a trusted friend so I can focus on holding a conversation, instead of listening intently for cars, nearby obstacles and hazards.

All this is just to say that as a blind person, there are a lot of benefits to doing things the ‘wrong’ way. Musicians can relate to this dichotomy in the stories of the artists that paved the path for us. Imagine if Miles Davis had completed his entire classical degree at Juilliard, or if George Clinton had insisted that the Parliaments remained a du-wop group, or if Dr. Dre had stuck to the early hip-hop template of relatively cutesy electro beats (just to name three well-known influential examples); a lot of the greatest art in history would never have come to fruition.

So today, when you see me independently leading one of my groups or taking the stage solo, know that I’ll be happy to take your shoulder to walk back to the greenroom (especially if it’s a new venue to me). And I’ll definitely accept your offer to skip to the front of the security line at 8 a.m. on a Friday. Sometimes a little compensation for the added complexity of getting from Point A to Point B is okay. Thank you!

This version of “Can I Pray for you” (originally recorded for my album Not Amazing) embodies my maturing approach to these issues. It’s a little slower, more deliberate, and less tense than the original, but has more nuances in my opinion and presents the same message. Here’s to getting weird and doing things the ‘wrong’ way! (Featuring Karl Maher on guitar, Evan Levine on bass, and Neil Carson on sax).

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