The fact that the corridor was drafty didn’t surprise me. Is there no performance area that isn't in the path of a wind tunnel? Now that it’s mid-December, there’s no getting around the fact that subway stations are cold.
When I arrived at Wilson, it was 10:40 a.m. Not exactly a "high-traffic" time. When I play in a quiet location at a slow time of day, I probably do look a bit out-of-place. I sense that people feel uncomfortable about that, and therefore they're less likely to donate. I try to smile and looking as happy as I can to make them feel at ease—but of course that’s a challenge when I'm lonely and freezing.
I considered turning around and going home—I was cold before I’d even started—but I reminded myself that I must be here for a reason. And it's moments like these that I wonder, what was that reason again?
For just such occasions, I've come up with a handy little set of Reasons that I can pull out at a moment's notice. They're little philosophical affirmations that help me make the most of busking. I’m finding that they’re every bit as essential as my portable amplifier and they serve much the same purpose.
Reason #1: "This is My Rehearsal Time" – If I were at home, would I be working through my repertoire faithfully each day? Probably not, if I’m honest with myself. So, if I arrive at a quiet stop and fear I’ll be wasting my time, I remind myself that I do need to practice.
Reason #2: "It Builds Character" – Remember "Katimavik", that wilderness-challenge experience for Canadian youth that was popular in the 70’s? I avoided it. In fact, when I was a young adult (the time of life when most people do whatever scary and breathtaking things they’re likely to do) I avoided most character-building experiences. Perhaps now that I’m in my forties I’m making up for lost time. I remember that Eleanor Roosevelt once said "you must do that thing you think you cannot do" and someone else said "that which does not kill me makes me stronger". I remember feeling that way after giving birth: Now that I’ve done this, I can do anything.
Reason #3: "It Sounds Good" – I have discovered that even if nobody’s around and few people are donating, I still enjoy singing these songs. I like the way they sound and I like the way I feel when I sing them. When the world doesn’t seem to be giving anything back to me, I simply enjoy the music and feel grateful that I can make more of it.
Reason #4: "If It Reaches Just One Person…" This is my favourite Reason, and it doesn’t have to do with selling CDs or becoming better-known. Sometimes I get the feeling that the music is reaching someone--even if that person doesn't show it by saying hello or making a donation. Often there’s something in a hurried, slightly embarrassed glance that tells me that what I’m doing is valuable. I see an unspoken request, a hint of response just beneath the surface, and I sing to that.
Reason #5: "The Next Person Could Give Me Money". It’s like fishing. You never know when a big one is going to come along. You can play for nothing for an hour and then someone comes along and buys two CDs. That possibility of income, however slight, is almost always a Reason to sing another song.
Reason #6: "I Can Write About It".
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I stayed at Wilson about 45 minutes and earned exactly four donations. In that time, I played about 12 songs.
After awhile with no money coming my way, I remembered yesterday's experience of getting disproportionately positive response from a couple of new songs that I wasn't sure were any good. I decided to play the songs again, just to see what happened.
Played one: bingo--a dollar. Played a couple of songs from the regular repertoire, nothing. Played the other new one: bingo again--a toonie this time. Huh. Out of a grand total of $4.50 for the hour, $3.00 came from the two new songs that I didn't think were worth much.
Could this be telling me something? Could this be a Reason?
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