What If Your Superpower is Right in Front of You?

In 2017, two years out of high school, I embarked on a quest around the world, traveling through Europe and North America.

This was my rite of passage, the first frontier I had to conquer on my journey to becoming the awe-inspiring musician my teenage ego dreamed of. Before setting off, I reached out to 50 of my favorite guitarists worldwide, eager to absorb their musical knowledge into a titanium trap and morph it into my own style.

In my mind, this trip would make me the next Tommy Emmanuel, the Asian-Australian bombshell who would change the landscape of guitar playing in Australia.

Two weeks into my adventure, I found myself in the small, charming town of Bristol in South England.

I spent two weeks there with two of my favorite guitar players, Mike Dawes and Stuart Ryan. I learned the art of crafting a good melody, expanded my guitar techniques, and discovered a rich tapestry of UK music I had never encountered before. I was brimming with excitement, eager to return home and share my newfound knowledge with fellow musicians and friends.

One evening, after an invigorating lesson with Mike Dawes, I was walking back to my Airbnb, my guitar slung over my shoulder.

The golden hour bathed the streets of Bristol in a warm, honeyed light, and I felt a profound sense of inspiration. As I passed the corner of St. Nicolas Church and a bustling market café, a homeless man caught the corner of my eye.

I watched as about 22 people hurried by, not one acknowledging his presence. Each time someone brushed him aside, he murmured, “That’s okay, have a good day,” with a hint of dread, but still managing to show kindness.

I was about 50 meters away when something inexplicably pulled me towards him. It was strange because I had never interacted with homeless people back home in Sydney. But this time, something compelled me to approach him. Had I not had my guitar with me, I might have continued walking towards Bristol train station.

I walked up to him and asked, “How are you doing?” To my shock, he replied, “Yeah, not too bad, how are you?”

He looked like someone who had just crawled through 100 miles of dirt in an underground tunnel. His clothes were tattered, his face weathered, but his eyes — his eyes held a glimmer of light, a flicker of hope barely visible. When he spoke, there was a warmth in his voice that I would never expect from someone on the brink of rock bottom.

I reached into my wallet and found, to my dismay, only about 2 pounds in coins. Feeling a mix of frustration and determination, I said, “Wait, I have my guitar with me. Why don’t I sit next to you and play for a few minutes? Let’s see if anyone comes.”

The man, told me, “No worries, mate. I used to play the guitar myself, actually.”

I asked him about his favorite tunes, and he replied, “Anything old school rock.”

Now, I’ve played hundreds of concerts, but this moment remains unique. I felt like a puppet master, orchestrating a scene where music spoke louder than words. Even a chef from the nearby café came out with a slice of bread for the man, and a group of university students offered him a pack of cupcakes.

Incredibly, as if my guitar and my music became a magnet drawing people in, about 30 people flocked in the space of 3 minutes, and began dropping loose change into my guitar case.

Now I’ve since played hundreds of concerts, but to this day, this moment is the only day where I’ve truly felt like a puppet master, willing people to come forward.

It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, and the power of music truly spoke. Even one of the chefs in the cafe next door came out with a slice of bread for the man. A young group of university students gave a pack of cupcakes.

Ten minutes earlier, he was nothing more than a shadow, a barely visible silhouette against the ancient walls of St. Nicolas Church. Now, he had 100 pounds and enough food to sustain him for the next few days.

As I stood up to leave, the man looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “You should take this,” he said, pushing the pile of coins towards me.

I knelt down, meeting his eyes, which were now shimmering with unshed tears. “This is yours. You earned it.” I paused, feeling the weight of the moment.

For a moment, the man hesitated, the flicker of hope in his eyes growing stronger. He finally nodded, a small, genuine smile spreading across his face. “Alright, mate. I’ll do that.”

We shook hands, a simple gesture that felt like a binding promise, and with that, I walked home back to my airbnb, not quite realising how life changing this moment would be.

To this day, I don’t know what happened to that man.

But knowing I had done something to lift his spirits with my guitar and music, even just for a day, confirmed in my mind, that I had something of a superpower with music.

What’s your superpower in life? Comment below, I’d love to know what it is because deep down, we all have a hidden superpower.

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