Listening to Myself

It was obviously my ego talking.

When I was asked "Would you like us to record the show?" I said, "Yes!" And when they said "How about you edit it for us?" I replied, "Sure!"

The road to obscurity is full of self-created potholes.

One of which is having to listen to your live performance, rather than simply basking in the knowledge that the concert was a big success and that everyone seemed to love it.

Today, after spending two days listening to myself (and laughing and cringing by turns) I'm feeling humbled and surprisingly grateful. I've been reminded that I'm likely to make mistakes and have "off" moments not only in the lowly subway corridor, but in a prestigious venue with all the lights on me. Although I'd like to choose which venue I'd prefer as a training ground, I'm not in charge. I will be plunked right down in the place where I need to be, just in time to fall into the pothole.

Ironically, many of my songs are concerned with the acceptance of imperfection, in myself and in my relationships with others.

Naturally, I want to sing them perfectly.

In my songs, I reassure myself that I'm okay the way I am.

And I find myself wishing I was "better" than I was.

When I record my songs, I re-record them until they sound the way I want. I edit out the flaws I'm least comfortable with...and keep in the ones that I think seem stylish. (It occurs to me that other recording artists are doing the same thing...which must be good news for recording studios.)

Tonight, at our children's music lesson, the teacher told them: "There are no mistakes".

As I overheard her saying that, I realized how many times I'd semi-consciously heard and dismissed it. "Oh yes, that's an encouraging platitude, appropriate for children," I'd think. "Yes, yes, 'there are no mistakes'...except for [annoying stage habit/botched guitar chord/wobbly vocal delivery]."

Needless to say, the imperfections that seem so glaring to me are likely less noticeable to others. It's our own flaws that inevitably come to light. I can cling to them (and beat myself up) or hide from them (by reciting the evening's glowing reviews). Or I can listen to them, observe them, and accept the fact that they exist. I can start to see "mistakes" in another light...as an integral part of the design of being human. Then I can move forward, knowing that even this awareness won't insulate me from the next hurdle I'll surely trip over.

Tonight I'm grateful for the opportunity to listen to myself as I am, and to embrace that person who is still growing.