Six years ago, I took a leap of chutzpah or a leap of faith (sometimes you can’t tell the difference), and told my singing teacher Rebecca Folsom that I wanted to share a house concert with her, rather than just do a warm-up act. She was game for either option. If Rebecca thought that sharing the stage equally would be a musical disaster, she would not have offered to set that up either for herself or for me. And on my end, I wanted to reach for a larger goal. I’ve done concerts before, but never as partners with a professional singer whom I thoroughly admire.
I was raised in a household of comparisons. Usually, the comparisons were flattering to my family and demeaning of others, expressed behind the backs of friends, relatives, and other random passersby. Being raised like this sets a person up to expect to be one up or one down, and to presume that others would be thinking the same way. So once the ball was rolling on this concert, I began to worry that I would make a fool of myself. How presumptuous, that I would do half the music! WHAT WAS I THINKING??? I worried myself into actual laryngitis two weeks before the concert, and I wasn’t even sick! (I’ve always been an overachiever).
So what WAS I thinking? I was thinking that I love, love, love to sing. I was thinking that I can reach ever more deeply into my heart and soul and express things with music in a way that transcends just talking. I was thinking that I really enjoy sharing this gift and joy with other people. This all happened in a flash, and prompted the leap of faith that preferred to ignore childhood messages of criticisms, judgment and distortion. Yes! I want to try this!
On the day of the concert, the weather was beautiful. The audience was enthusiastic. The three other performers were literally all of my music teachers. For me, this opportunity, this coalescing of the most supportive people in my musical experience was rare and special, like an eclipse of the sun. Nevertheless, I was terrified until about half an hour before the audience began to arrive.
Then came a decision point. I had a choice about staying mired in my negativity, or I could take in the advice that all three of these good people have been giving me for years. In summary, the advice is this: be yourself, because everyone else is already taken. Offer what is genuine in that moment: don’t force anything or pretend. When a performer comes from an attitude of authentic presence, that is the flashpoint of true value and connection. In the midst of me whining about my partial laryngitis, I suddenly said, “F– this s–“, and decided to offer to the audience whatever I had, without judgement. Without this shift, I would have embarrassed myself and ruined half of the concert. No one’s life hung in the balance, and I wasn’t attempting anything really dangerous. It also was a great idea to take a beta blocker (this inhibits stage fright) and have a good slug of wine.
By the time the concert started, I was in a great mood and gave the most confident musical presentation of my entire life. I am standing on new ground. I would not have gotten there without leaping, and without going through the miserably unpleasant process of growing emotionally as well as musically. And the path keeps going. I am very glad I took this risk. I had no need to compare myself with any of the other three players, and enjoyed every moment of the show. Our styles truly complemented each other. Variety is a wonderful thing. We were musical flowers in the field, each a different hue and shape and size: a bouquet of energy, light and harmony. This was a privilege I will not forget.
Susan Rose: Singing Grandma 