Scenic Route

A longer form bio or ‘scenic route’ of my story and how I came to be and the path I’m learning to walk.

When I came out my mother’s womb, I did not come out head first. My old man said, “I came out the darkest shade of blue & purple before turning black.” That’s because my mother’s umbilical cord was so tightly wrapped around my neck and arms. I almost didn’t make it. And the gentleman who delivered me was still in his residency, and technically not considered a doctor at the time. He was my old man’s teammate in college, and whom my family trusted more than the actual doctor the nurse called when they realized my birth was not normal.

I didn’t learn that story about myself until after I graduated from high school. I saw on the news something about how its normal and healthy for babies to cry at birth. That’s when I asked my mom what it was like giving birth to me, and she told me the story, and how I could not cry.

Many years later, when I got to NYC and had the privilege to play in William Parker’s Intergenerational Ensemble; he expressed and encouraged us all to explore and find our own sound. Then William went on to make the analogy about when a baby is born, they all have their own unique cry, their own sound, their own life song. That moment really struck me as I reflected on my own coming into this world, and how I never got the chance to cry as a baby, coming out my mother’s womb.

What was my cry? What is my sound? The search for self is yet to be found. I guess that’s the journey of my song- always searching, always exploring, trying to persevere through the storm of my nature. When you are a student of life, you become a student for life. I never want to stop learning and growing, finding my sound, my cry, fishing for notes and tones. It feels like there is no such thing as doing wrong when you become a child in your craft.

In regards to my craft and my work, my whole being has gone against the grain of this world. I should not have made it to this life as a human, but something saved me and brought me into existence. It wasn’t a doctor who delivered me on that 13th day of November, in 1990. It was God, the Holy Spirit. The one who has saved me, and continues to prosper me in this lifetime.

I’ve always had a deep reverence for spirituality, but growing up in the church has brought a lot of confusion and turmoil to my psyche. Seeing “christians” and other religious folks behave in the most ungodly way has turned me off to the whole thing. Yet, God has continued to switch me on- tearing me down, just to build me up. Upon completing my confirmation classes as a pre-teen, a bible verse was bestowed upon us as a personal message for us to deliver in our lives. The verse that was given to me came from the book of Matthew 4:19.

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of Men”

It’s ironic because I grew up fishing and in the “419” area code. It’s as if my rod and reel were my mother and father, when no one was around to look after me. My local ponds and rivers were my care takers; teaching me, developing me, and raising me. Such as nature, storms come and go, leaving less time for ‘fishing’ and more time for reality. My lures were casted to deep waters, only to catch more trouble. I became lost, dare I say rootless. I started to follow this “world” and ignore spirit, and the spirit of my own being and identity.

I went into hiding and wept underground. The nice part of going underground, much like digging under the soil, seeds can be planted, and tears become nourishment for the seeds. This is how I learned to become a “farmer” in the sense of planting seeds and sharing a harvest. Some seeds get scattered, and others don’t get enough sunlight, but faith has been the best fertilizer.

In regards to being a human being on earth, the government has recognized my birth name as Robert Benjamin Johnston. I’ve later adapted the iteration “Bobbie” for many reasons. The Greek translation of “Bobbie” means foreigner, or stranger from a strange or foreign land. This is how I feel when reckoning with my human identity on earth. In my learning of going against the grain of this world, we have been fighting technology and information that is tampering with our own discernment, the very nature of our existence. I’ve noticed that when you try and txt “Bobbie” on your phone, or leave a voicemail in my name, the phone or computer wants to auto-correct the spelling of my name to “Bobby.” You have to correct the computer and today’s technology to even spell my name right. Further symbolizing my fight and struggles with the world we live in, and hopes for leading by example towards that “strange and foreign land” where the Holy Spirit resides.

My art, my sound, my poetry are only expressions of what I can perceive in my life. It’s as if we are all blind out here, and we can only measure by the size of our sticks. Sometimes we have to change walking sticks to navigate different terrains on our journey. God gave us a path to walk, and sticks to measure and navigate life with. God can also take away our path and our sticks just as easily as it was given to us. I want to dedicate all my work and this journey to the glory of God, The Creator of The Universe. I hope this inspires others to do the same.

April 1999, Bobbie as a Blues Brother – “I’m on a mission from God”