The door opened, we glided out onto the stage, took a bow, and then I noticed that there were people in the audience. I began the first song of the evening.
"Don't do that!" a voice inside my head screamed as I began a gesture with my arm, "People will think that you aren't being genuine."
"That wasn't so pretty - you really can make more beautiful sounds that that."
The inner dialogue between neuroses continued as I navigated my way through the first song. Nightmarish visions of forgetting the words flew through my mind. I struggled to focus on what was at hand and stay in the text and in the present moment. I tried to base myself in reality.
The song was over. I left the stage to relax before my next set of songs. I realized that my inner critic was out of control and needed to be stopped. I listened to my colleagues sing this incredible, deep, intense Russian music, and remembered that I had a job to do, which was to share this music with the audience and offer myself in service not only to them but the music itself.
I walked out to sing again, found the reality of the song, and suddenly the unimportant surreality of the voices in my head wasn't such a distraction anymore.
1 comment:
Singing appears to come as naturally to you as breathing, Nick, but there are times when we become conscious of even our own individual breaths. Meditation often involves self-awareness and calculated breathing, but ultimately with an aim to forgetting yourself, I think. We don't know the value of uninhibited, resonant singing until we've been highly aware of the sound escaping our mouths in the first place. Point being, a perfectly natural experience on your part which may come again but in the end enhances the overall experience of singing for other people, I hope. Hope you're well.
P
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