Emphasis on the Now

I almost sat paralyzed today before typing. Political discourse is no longer discourse. Yet, I wanted to focus on an aspect of my life, and the period of time I get to experience, by talking about something dear to my heart.

Growing up I wanted to always speak. To learn and then to talk about it. I think it was 3rd grade when I realized that one thing that I wanted to keep close to me and precious was singing. Singing is cathartic, but its more important then that. Sometimes you have conversations where a brief mention of music comes up before fading away. That or someone will state at some point that they don’t see the purpose of singing.

I sometimes have trouble communicating. As verbose as my writing can be at times, in person it changes. I have to think carefully, I usually cannot ever interject appropriately in conversation. Yet when singing that changes. I think, emotionally, it changes. I can just let a swelling of emotion build far greater then any conversation. I can change my relative meekness in life into a crescendo of powerful vocals. That’s not to say I can’t give expression in conversation, or that I cannot talk in depth about a subject, but rather that I communicate better through song.

Usually in performance auditions you’re not expected to complete the song your choosing to audition with. I didn’t expect to either when I auditioned for a local play. I was given lines first, and some time to give some improvisation. When it was time to sing, I didn’t really think about length or a stopping point. I simply assumed that the director and playwright would stop me. So I sang a Disney song, Evermore. Looking back, I think what happened was my own emotions telling me what I needed to do. Just let go; Sing and don’t worry about how it sounds or how you move. Fidget, blink, close your eyes, let your voice crack. Just sing.

They didn’t stop me. I completed the entire song, belting out lines and almost shaking from the fear and emotional release. When I was done, there was a pause. It’s a cliché, but it did truly feel as if time was stuck in that perpetual pause. The response to what I had done was simply “Wow.”

I was given a part. I sang. I performed. It was excitement, it was nerves, it was an outlet, it was a comforting normalcy. I enjoyed myself, and knew that I was going to hold onto singing for the rest of my life. In front of others, or simply to myself in the car on long rainy days when a day has led to tears and frustration.

I just exist, and let go.