The Life That You May Not Have Known About

A Sound Room Feature by Misti Flowers

I’ve been told that I have a chameleon face.  What does that mean?  I think it means that I tend to adapt to whatever season I’m currently living… and my face has a way of telling my secrets. 

When I look back at pictures from the different timelines, all I have to do is see my face and I know exactly what was happening then. The expressions are different. The shape is different (usually due to inflammation) But, if I was happy at that time, it showed.  If I was facing a major challenge, it showed. Because the fact is, I can’t hide anything!

And I don’t want to.

So, today, I’m going to share some of my story with you.  Because you might see your face inside my life experience as well. 

 

The first time I ever performed, I didn’t sing…I breathed a song through a little keyboard in my grandfather’s church.  That keyboard is called a Melodica. 

My grandfather was the pastor of an Assembly of God church and my grandmother played the organ.  Whenever I spent the weekend with her, I always jumped on the organ to show her what I had learned.  (Mom was a professional pianist, so it is kinda in my blood)  Grandma was impressed that I could play Amazing Grace by memory so she pulled out what looked like a toy to me and asked me to play it for her.  Then she asked me if I wanted to play it in front of the church congregation.  Of course  I did!  I was born for the stage!

Melodica keyboard

That was my first introduction to public performance.  I was hooked… at age five!

Misti Flowers - Age Five

From then on, all I wanted to do was to get in front of people.  I didn’t want to be a musician, though.  That was mom’s job.  I wanted to sing.  So I sang.  All the time.  Much to my siblings’ fury who were not shy about demanding that I shut up. 

Misti at 15 - Singing at a retirement center

When I grew up, I emerged from a dream into the harsh reality that the music business doesn’t accept you just because you’re talented.  You have be different. I had a lot to learn, mostly the discovery of who I am.  That process took many, many years!

People were always pushing me to sing songs that they liked. It didn’t matter if I liked them or not. But, I sang them because that’s what was expected of me. I was  pushed by different professionals to be rock, country, gospel even jazz… in the midst of it, all what I really wanted to sing were the blues. That felt right to me. It felt like home to me.  But I didn’t.  I sang whatever was the most popular at the time.  

It drew crowds.  

They danced. 

They bought alcohol from the bartender. 

I had two goals in life.  Be a mother.  Be a singer.  I’ve done both.

 But when I sat down at the piano to write a song, I wrote stories.  My stories were emerging from inside of me in the form of folk/country/blues.  For the industry, that doesn’t work.  You have to pick a lane. 

Just one genre.

I couldn’t do that.  I’ve never been able to do that.  I am who I am, influenced by the likes of Ronnie Milsap, Bonnie Raitt, Bette Midler, Aretha Franklin, Dottie West…  how is the music industry supposed to take someone like me and fit them into a pre-designed box? 

All I wanted to do was tell a story, in whatever way that story wanted to be told.

No restrictions.

No genres.

Just me. 

To my shocking surprise, a song that I had written, In Your Heart, caught the attention of A&R for a major label.  It resulted in a recording contract.  Again, I was being placed inside the country music genre. I didn’t want to be labeled a country music artist. Americana wasn’t yet recognized as a genre.  So… I had to either agree to it… or not.  

I chose NOT

And backed away from whatever potential there was for me and my future music career with that label. 

Instead, I stayed in Oklahoma where I continued to raise my children, sing live performances, provide backup and harmonies for other emerging artists and taught vocals. 

And I wrote. 

I stopped hoping for a nationally recognized professional career.  I stopped thinking about it.  

I stopped. 

Not everything all at once, and definitely not writing.  But, over time, I was singing fewer and fewer live shows.  I slowly lost contact with local musicians who backed me on stage.  And I was ok with it. I had accepted that the dream was a thing of the past. 

Instead, I funneled my creativity into entrepreneurship building a web design business, a jewelry business, a children’s online educational business called Ferdi’s Pond.  I wrote children’s books and designed educational games for them to learn about nature and ecology.  I took my artwork and turned them into wearable art clothing then created an online store to sell them called Dressed Up Hippy Store. I even taught women how to make flour from wheat berries and then use it to bake bread. 

All of it very creative.  All of it satisfying.  But none of it fed my soul. Not like music.

I missed it.

I needed it

Through it all, however, I was living life.  I was having experiences which offered so many stories to tell.  Stories that I couldn’t write before I had “quit”

Stories that began to speak to me as if asking, “When are you going to share us with the world?”

So I wrote, “Right Where I Belong”   It took about fifteen minutes.  The story was already there, waiting.  It was good.  In the process, I began to feel those old feelings again.  I began to remember the thrill and the desire to share my story through song just like I felt years ago.  That was it.  I couldn’t deny it anymore. So, I recorded it and put it out for distribution.  

No management. 

No label.

Just me.

So… who am I anyway?

I’m still that little girl standing in my grandfather’s church, breathing a melody into a room and hoping someone feels it.

The only difference now… is that I understand why I do it.

Every season changed me. Every experience grew me up.

And my face? 

It says: Country Soul – Blues Truth

That’s who I am.

Misti Flowers Headshot Black and White

You made it to the end!  As a thank you, I want to offer to you a free download of Right Where I Belong, my ode to Oklahoma…home. 

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