I was especially happy with tonight's performance.
Last night went well too, but making the transition between singing on the subway and singing on stage proved trickier than expected.
Tonight I felt at home once again on an actual stage.
Before the show, I did several things to prepare myself psychologically (having felt that I'd been somewhat unprepared the night before). Both nights, I had about an hour to fill at the venue before my performance. Tonight I filled it by knitting (something I hadn't done for months, but which I hoped would be relaxing, and was) and by reading a copy of Shambhala Sun, a Zen Buddhist magazine my father lent to me.
The November '04 issue focuses on "the art of spiritual practice, and the spiritual practice of art". I was especially moved by an article about writing which reminded the reader that it's the being (not the producing) that matters: an important reminder for writers like me who are prone to publishing, recording and, uh, blogging. The editorial was helpful as well, suggesting that inspiration comes from becoming comfortable with situations as they are, even if they're irritating, and of making an ally of the unpredictability of the mind.
That phrase "unpredictability of the mind" really rang true for me, as I remembered my mind's revved-up hyperobserving of the night before. Between the magazine and the knitting, something worked. I felt accepting and responsive throughout tonight's show, even when I broke a guitar string in the middle of it.
This is a public "thank-you" to the opening act singer (his name is Dave Cramer) who so graciously changed my string when I spontaneously asked him to. Hopefully, if I keep up with the Zen spirit of relaxed response to irritating circumstances, someday I'll be able to change my own strings on stage. (I've seen Fred Eaglesmith do it.) So, something else to aspire to. (I say that without judging myself. Much.) In the meantime, thank you Dave.
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