A Return to Joy: How Sawyer Brown Helped Heal My Heart

Reading Time: 3 minutes

By Michael Avery

Before Sawyer Brown became famous, the band always stopped at the Douglas County Fair near my hometown on their whirlwind tour throughout Oregon and the Pacific Northwest. When I left the fair each year after hearing them play until well after midnight, one song always stayed with me—“The Walk.” Little did I know that, many years later, the song would facilitate a healing with my father. 

I still remember how sparse and unruly the crowds were at times. Nevertheless, you could always count on Sawyer Brown to be at the fair, rain or shine. They always showed up, whereas other bands cancelled small venues like ours at the drop of a hat. I admired Sawyer Brown for that.

One day, while contemplating on how to rekindle the joy I had expressed so freely in my youth, I asked inwardly if there was anything from my past that I needed to resolve. Nothing seemed to happen during my contemplation, but when I entered the kitchen, my wife, Pichaya’s, domain, I found myself humming my favorite Sawyer Brown song. 

As I was replaying memories from those bygone “Summer Fair Days,” Pichaya asked me if I realized that a subtle message was being sent by Spirit through the song. In the little-known language of Waking Dreams, audible messages are known as “Golden-tongued Wisdom.”

It was no coincidence that “The Walk” had come to mind, seemingly out of the blue, right after asking for insights about joy. The song is about the relationship between a father and his son.

I located the song on the Internet and played it repeatedly with my own father in mind. After the fifth time, I experienced a shift in consciousness. I was able to view my relationship with Burt, as he preferred to be called, through the eyes of compassion rather than criticism. 

At the age of seven, I had returned home from playing with friends in a nearby field. Burt met me at the door with a scowl on his face. Surprisingly, my unbridled joy upset him somehow. I made a mental note to suppress such feelings when I entered the house in order to please my father.

Since then, I have learned that issues like mine are often traced to prior times when we’ve suppressed joy in others. From the Soul perspective, it’s all good. We completely learn a lesson by experiencing both sides of the polarity coin. Self-responsibility and understanding are important keys to healing. Yet, still, a part of me blamed Burt for shutting down my expression of joy in my youth. I had never really forgiven him. 

Now, with “The Walk” playing in the background and tears rolling down my cheeks, I saw scenes from our past through older and kinder eyes. I felt compassion for my father’s difficult life and forgave him for any hurt he had caused me.

At the age of fourteen, Burt had left home with bitterness and resentment. He left everything behind, including joy. Self-love had little chance of flourishing. When I once asked Burt about his father, he told me he was dead. Later, I found out that he was living in Portland, Oregon, where he worked as a realtor. 

My father rarely showed affection. He loved baseball and expressed his love by throwing batting practice until his arm gave out or darkness set in. Burt was always there for us, ready to fight anyone who dared mistreat his boys. 

Even when he was diagnosed with cancer, his first thoughts were about taking care of his family. Like Sawyer Brown, you could always count on Burt. He always showed up, rain or shine. I admired him for that. I truly loved him for that.

Forgiveness healed my heart and opened a door that I had unknowingly closed with my criticism of my father and feelings of disappointment surrounding our relationship. With the release of emotions, coupled with gratitude for all Burt had done for us, I felt compassion for this great Soul who taught me so much about the wonderful game of baseball. My heart opened to joy once again.

Please note: Images on this site are for illustration purposes only unless otherwise specified. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.